What an amazing life awaits him!

William stepped through the front door into his parent’s house. The decorations were all messed up, but he could feel the presence of his father in the living room, just as he always was, sitting in the middle of the sofa reading yesterday’s newspapers. He was a man who always said that you have to give news a little bit of time to settle in before you give them the permission to fuck up your life.

There was a new wall calendar in the corridor since he last came in and as William walked past, his gaze was stuck on it. This was mainly because he didn’t want to get angry again, not this time.

“Would you like a cup of tea, darling?” sang William’s mom from the kitchen with her beautiful voice. She never let the news ruin her day. The way to do that was to never read it. She was in denial of all the bad things that happened in the world.

William sat down on the sofa, nodding his head onto the beautiful mahogany table in the middle of the living room. He decided that he may as well get on with it.

“I… could I… the situation is that… could I move back in?”

“Of course, honey, it would be great to have you around again.”

Will’s mum’s bright voice shone through as the scent of the tea filled the room with her prompt arrival. Will suddenly realised how bad this idea was.

“Thank you. I’ll help you around the house and we can play board games sometime if you want.”

The calendar was in the back of his mind. There seemed to be a different famous painting for each month. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. What if he would just take it now and leave? He could make a big scene out of it. Show everyone that he still has some tricks up his sleeve.

One of his sleeves accidently dipped into the tea mug. William tried to hide it from his parents because even through he had his doubts, the conversation was going in his favour for the moment.

“I need somewhere to stay, you see, but I might be able to get a different job, I’m sure.”

These reassurances sprung from his mouth toward his parents ears quicker than he was able to consider how false they were. He wasn’t getting a job any time soon. The proof of that was right there, all that was needed was a look at William’s appearance and any employer would say ‘no’. There was also the recent behaviour issue.

“Would you like another cup of tea, honey? We can clean your old room afterwards so you can move in tonight. I’m sure your dad will pick up your stuff tomorrow if you’ll give him your key. No need to tire yourself.”

As his mother walked into the kitchen, William stared his father down. The man hasn’t looked away from his newspapers, not even when given the opportunity to turn his son down once and for all. What was he waiting for?

William’s cheek itched and what started as a minor annoyance became a straining irritation very soon after. If he could only reach it… his imagination went haywire and before he knew it, he was holding the brush again. The last stroke of a brush onto the canvas surface. There it is – the bird who can fly in the sky even though his wings are the size of a brush bristle. And as the bird was small so could a small drop of saltwater drown him.

William’s tear dropped onto the remaining tea leaf at the bottom of the finished cup.

“Honey, here you go, this is a very exotic kind of tea I got in the new shop in town. Tell me what you think.”

He sipped from the cup. He was calm now. He was back in his body. The reality of his condition was back with him. But somehow the judgement was gone. So, what if is he doesn’t have arms? So what if he has to use a straw to drink tea? So what if he was fired because some stupid company didn’t want to pay a writing secretary for him anymore?

“I’m going to find another job, soon, believe me!”

His father suddenly responded: “This time, I believe the resilience in your voice! But you have to understand it is not going to be easy!”

William nodded; he meant it this time. He said those words of false promise many times before and he was used to their sound, but he agreed with the man that raised him that there was resolve in his voice now. He missed such undoubtful self-confidence.

“Can I see it?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course, it’s right there in the corridor, where it always was and always will be,” said his father. There was a patience in the room, unforeseen resoluteness about the moment as William got up from the ground and with the help of his mom opened the door back into the corridor.

He was retaking his steps from when he came into the house earlier that day and every one of those steps felt the weight of years of resentment and regret. And there it was…

“The Appraisal of six-year old Will for his painting contributions to the National Gallery. Wow. I still envy that kid. What an amazing life awaits him,” said William with another tea falling onto his empty sleeve hanging from the side of his body.

His father and his mother filled the house with patience, the same loving patience they had since William’s accident. And even if this wasn’t the end of his depression, which it likely wasn’t, they cherished the moment when their son was believing in himself again.

William continued: “Some could even call him a prodigy, someone of exceptional abilities with a paint brush.”

“That sounds very demanding of someone so young, only just taking his first steps and having to also enjoy his childhood at the same time,” said his mom, trying to imply a jokey atmosphere to the moment. The smell of her tea endorsing the room with comfort.

William looked towards the front door. Maybe this time he will not run away, maybe this young kid deserves better, and just maybe he deserves the support of people who love him even when his biggest talent was ruined through a painful traumatic accident.

“Mum… you’ll find my keys in my left pocket, if Dad is still okay moving my stuff.”