Depiction Predictions

Depiction Predictions

Over the months of interrogation, I… more accurately my butt, became a true connoisseur of fine wood. They must have replaced the soft pine with straight-back oak or hickory chairs in the hope the added discomfort would have me confess sooner rather than later. But I could never confess as I didn’t understand it myself.

The drawings were spread out all over the table- again. Sure I recognized them. I drew them.

“Just the facts, Jesse! Just the facts.”

“It’s going to be a whole lot better for you if you just tell us the truth.”

The truth? I was living in a world of half-truths. I understood the start, but the ending remained as much a mystery for me as it was for the inquisitors.

“We know you did it. We just don’t know how you did it.”

“Premeditation for sure. Lots of planning.”

 “Blueprints for evil deeds. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Fess up, and we might go easy on you.”

Might? That didn’t sound reassuring. Truth be told, they could have stuck needles up my fingernails, rubbed sand in my eyes, hung me up on the rack, pried my eyes open with toothpicks and forced me to watch reruns of The Brady Bunch, and I still wouldn’t have talked. I did it, but I didn’t. How do I explain that?

Doodle #1: Little boy falling to the ground coming off the bottom of a slide. The boy is yelling “Owie!”.

“Ok, Jesse, what’s that?”

“Uh, it looks like a kid and a slide.”

“And what happened to the boy?”

“I dunno.” (Feigned ignorance.)

“He’s hurt, Jesse. He’s yelling ‘Owie’.”

“Oh, yeah. I see that.”

“Do you recognize the boy in the picture?”

“No.” (Lie)

“He has red hair, Jesse.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“How many boys do you know with red hair?”

“Uh…” (Delay and hope the moment passes.)

“Ronald Barnard has red hair. You do know Ronald?”

“Uh, yes. He’s the kid in my class with red hair.”

“Do you know where Ronald is right now?”

“No.”

“He’s in the Nurse’s Office getting his scraped knee bandaged up.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Ronald got hurt on the playground slide, just like the boy in the picture you drew this morning.”

“Huh, that’s interesting.”

“Where were you a half hour ago, Jesse? Were you out on the playground?”

“No, I was in the Library. Ask Miss Jeter.” (Smile, solid alibi having been established.)

Doodle #2: Little girl sitting at a picnic table eating a sandwich. Droppings, labeled “Poop” are falling from a bird perched on a branch above the picnic table.

“Do you recognize this picture, Jesse, the one you drew in art class last week?”

“Yes, I think so.” (To deny would have been futile.)

“Setting aside the inappropriate content for the moment, would you say the bird is … pooping… on the little girl?”

“Kind of looks that way.” (Heh, heh, heh.)

“Well, the same day you drew that picture a bird pooped on Annie Larson’s sandwich at lunchtime.”

“No kidding?” (Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh, heh.)

“That’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, that is odd.”

“Do you own a bird, Jesse?”

Oh, my God, does Principal Johnson think I could train a bird to poop on people?

“No, sir.”

Doodle #3: A large woman with glasses bending over with “Rrrrrp” pointing to the back of her pants; children at desks with “Ha, ha, ha” written over their heads.

“Do you remember this one, Jesse?”

“I got suspended for that one.”

“Yes, I believe you did. You drew that in Mrs. Benning’s class, and that afternoon she bent over and ripped her pants. Again, I don’t understand any of this, but can you explain how you happened to draw a picture of Mrs. Benning ripping her pants, and then that exact thing happened to her an hour later?”

“Why do you think that’s Mrs. Benning in the picture?” (Diversion.)

“Jesse, the woman is wearing glasses, and she’s a fa… a large person.”

“Doesn’t look like Mrs. Benning to me.”

Escape. How could it be otherwise? I didn’t do it… well, I sort of did but the requisite elements of proof would be impossible.

----------

 I’m not exactly sure when it started. I was five years old. I remember we were at a lake in northern Wisconsin on vacation, and I drew a picture of me catching a big fish. Then I caught this humongous bass that night. (Well, humongous in the eyes of a five-year-old.) The next day I drew a picture of my little brother falling into a mud puddle… and he did! Sheer coincidence I thought at first, but the doodles kept coming to life. Whatever I drew, happened.

As a small child, I used the mysterious talent only for kicks and giggles. During my Grade School years, I expanded the magic to incorporate the wonderful world of retribution, inflicting pain and embarrassment on those I didn’t like, people like Ronald, Annie, and Mrs. Benning. I also saw a meteoric rise in my grades as A’s and B’s started appearing at the tops of my tests and homework assignments. The $5.00 bills coming out of my Dad’s wallet for my allowance morphed into tens courtesy of a couple of strokes of my pencil.

The utility of this mysterious power blossomed in high school. Self-serving sketches appeared in record numbers-  me putting in twenty on the basketball court, standing at a lectern on stage addressing the student body as Class President, and in one shameful creation, a girl’s clothes being tossed out of the back seat of my car after the Senior Prom. Life was good.

College was easier for me than for most. “Your business here is learning” was eclipsed by the insurance policy I always knew rested comfortably in my back pocket- a quick trip to Vegas, a sketch of me sitting behind towers of chips at a blackjack table, and I would be financially sound for life.

My love life was the envy of every guy on campus. I could have any girl I could draw. And then…

Marnie. Beautiful, wonderful, the sweetest person I had ever known. She was a friend of a friend. I met her at a wedding, and it was love at first sight. That very night I placed a sheet of paper on my kitchen table and pulled out my box of colored pencils. I needed to put us in the perfect setting. I wanted something special, romantic, for our first date. A picnic next to the river or a day at the zoo seemed more “special” than dinner or a movie. Lunch between classes? Study date at the library? Nothing seemed to fit the magnitude of the occasion.

I settled on the zoo. I drew a crude depiction of me standing in front of the County Zoo sign and prepared to do the best sketch of Marnie that I could do from memory. The pencil was inches from the paper when my hand froze. Some strange but powerful force kept me from putting Marnie in the picture.

I would find the love of my life through some magical doodling? How would I ever know if she loved me? I was cheating. I wouldn’t be the knight in shiny armor winning the heart of the maiden. I’d be the caveman bagging his mate by force, physical or otherwise. I couldn’t do it. I would find love the old-fashioned way.

I got Marnie’s number from our mutual friend.

“Hello. Is this Marnie?”

“Yes, this is Marnie.”

“Hi, Marnie, this is Jesse. I met you at the wedding Saturday night.”

“I’m sorry. Who is this?”

“Jesse. We met at the wedding reception.”

“I’m sorry. I really don’t remember. I guess I met so many people that night.”

This was crushing as we spent a fair amount of time together, and it seemed there had been some serious chemistry between us.

“Your friend Steve introduced me to you. We sat at the same table.”

“Sorry, it doesn’t ring a bell.”

Oh, my God, this wasn’t going well.

“Well, I was just wondering if maybe we could get together sometime.”

“For what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe we could check out the County Zoo some afternoon. I hear they put in some new exhibits this year.”

“Oh, God no. I hate zoos. It’s animal cruelty. They should all be shut down.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I never really liked them either. You’re right. Maybe something else, like a picnic by the river.”

"A picnic? Are you serious?"

 “Yes.”

“I don’t think so.”

“How about dinner?”

“No.”

“A movie.”

“No.”

Oh, no. This couldn’t have gone worse. Awkward? I just set a new benchmark for awkward. I should have just done the picture.

“Well, ok then, maybe I’ll see you around.”

I had relied on the mystical powers of my simplistic drawings for my entire life. I was incapable of coming up with a Plan B.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Jesse. Did you ever talk to Marnie?”

“Yeah, I talked to her.”

“How’d it go?”

“Not so good. She didn’t even know who I was.”

“Bummer.”

Steve came up with my only surviving course of action. It wasn’t a solid Plan B, but it was a Better-Than-Nothing-Sort-of-a-Plan. I would just happen to run into Marnie wherever and whenever I could, and woo her with my charming personality. Steve gave me the best info he had on Marnie’s schedule. I went from mystical shaper of events to stalker.

Library.

“Oh, hello. It’s Marnie, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Jesse, from the wedding. I called you one night last week.”

“Oh, yes. I remember you calling.”

At least she remembered that.

“Well, fancy meeting you here. Do you mind if I join you at this table?”

“Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t. I have trouble concentrating so I always study alone.”

“Well, ok then.”

Student Union Cafeteria.

“Oh, hi… Marnie. It’s me, Jesse, from the wedding. It’s a little crowded in here today. Could I sit at your table?”

“I was just leaving. You can have the table.”

“Well, ok then.”

Coffee Shop.

“What a coincidence! I run into you again. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“Well, maybe a nice frappuccino and a scone or a sausage biscuit?”

“I don’t think so. I was just leaving.”

“Well, ok then.”

Strike one, strike two, strike three. All was lost.

I sat at my kitchen table that night, staring at the sketch of me at the zoo and the box of colored pencils. I just need to add her to the picture, and the dream would come true. It might not be right, but she was so beautiful, and I knew she would be the love of my life. It was all there for the doodling. 

I struggled with it for hours, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. I would not find true love by conscription. I tore up the sketch, threw it in the trash, and broken hearted, went to bed.

As I was leaving my apartment the next morning, I saw a sheet of paper had been slipped under my door. It was a sketch of a man and a woman standing at the entrance of the County Zoo. It was beyond puzzling. My mind went into autopilot as I felt some strange force pulling me out the door.

When I arrived at the zoo, sketch in hand, I was shocked to see Marnie standing there with a warm smile.

“Marnie? What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“I don’t understand. I…”

I remembered the sketch in my hand.

“Did you leave this under my door?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. The picture…it’s…”

“Me and you, Jesse.”

“What? You and me? You wouldn’t even talk to me all those times I tried to spend some time with you.”

“I needed to be sure you wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with you, so I didn’t put you in the picture until last night. You see, Jesse, you may not believe this, but I have this special power…”