People Don't Change

“One time, John. You gotta try it one time, man.” John rolled his eyes as he does usually.

“People don’t change Philip, I'm not going to come with you” Philip twirled his keys and pursed his lips. Usually, he continues to bark at John for a bit while longer. This time something was peculiar. Philip made a move for the door. He stopped with one foot on the concrete.

“If you come with me right now, I’ll never ask you again.”

“Well… shit” John muttered as he unglued himself from the sofa. Ten minutes later they were strolling through damp and poorly lit alleyways en route to a nondescript location. Philip said he couldn’t say specifically where they were going. John reckoned he didn’t know where they were going anyhow. He cringed as he stepped over hypodermic needles and other filth. The alleyways featured lots of trash, a few transients, and lots of “art”. The bricks laid in the walls were uneven, but one wall boasted a well-done graffiti of a naked woman. John did a little rubbernecking. Being an aspiring artist himself; he could not help but enjoy the artwork. He also enjoys looking at nude women, and who could blame him.

“That’s Jessica Speedwagon, the sexiest girl of our generation.” Philip continued as they strolled. “I’d reckon that actually adds value to the building. Are you getting inspired yet?”

“I’m inspired to paint quickly so I can get out of here” John grumbled. They finally reached the end of the long alleyway. Philip slid a milk crate underneath the window at the end of the corridor. He then used it as a stepping stool. Blinding light poured down on them through the window. Philip eclipsed it, then disappeared into the yellow haze. John begrudgingly followed his lead. He stepped through the window; the setting was like something out of a novel. There were ruined brick walls in all directions and the ceiling was open to the elements. Straight ahead was a remarkably flat wall framed by pillars that supported what remained of the building. It was perfect for a mural. Disregarding the fact that they were on private property and graffiti is illegal in the city. John approached the wall. Philip reappeared behind John.

“Here you go.” He handed John his bag. The transfer produced the familiar clank of spray paint cans. “I’ll work on the pillars, so the wall is all you,” he said with an ear-to-ear smile.

They went to work. “At least it’s not all bad,” John thought to himself. He googled a reference image, then found himself immersed completely in his art. It’s been a while since he had gotten off his ass and created something. The air smelled of aerosol and paint. Rays of sun draped the wall as they worked. The only sounds were soft footsteps and paint-can ambiance. An adorable stray cat even stopped to say hello. John’s attitude improved as he continued to paint.

Then they heard a car door. Then footsteps coming closer to the building's natural entrance. John and Philip looked at each other in fear as the door creaked open. “What’s going on here?!” It was a police officer. He had the uniform, aviators, mustache, and all. They had been rumbled. 

John’s inner monologue had nothing to offer except, “Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit! What if I go to jail? What if I get kicked out of school? 

“Run!” Philip yelled. They sent spray paint cans across the room towards the officer; accelerated across the room and disappeared out the window. Mr. Officer was not far behind. The Building shot out humans like a Pez dispenser. Up ahead was a split in the alleyway. “Go left!” Philip turned the corner, then John, then the cop. One after another, fast and furious. Up ahead was a fire escape. The kids used their superior cardio strength to gain some ground up the stairs. Back and forth they circled up and up. The rooftop revealed a panoramic view of the city skyline. 

“This is no time to enjoy the view,” John thought to himself. They pressed on across the gravel-covered roof. Philip was still in the lead; he sprung off the far side of the roof circumventing the seven-foot gap that went down several stories between buildings. John’s heart was pounding, thoughts raced through his mind. “Maybe I should just let him catch me.” the gap was approaching. “What if I fall? I don't want to throw away my life.” His mind told him to stop running but his body was already in motion. His foot planted on the parapet and he launched into the air. Time almost stopped for John. At that moment he realized that he had nothing to lose. His life was hanging into balance but the outcome did not seem to matter. He was an artist, yet he made no art. He was a student, yet he did not learn. He was alive, yet he did not live. But he wasn’t ready to call it quits. Time sped up once again when his feet hit the gravel of the adjacent rooftop. The officer stopped at the gap. The two-way radio on his hip broke the silence. “Squad car 182 we got a 1505, 920 North Fir street” 

“10-4, squad car 182 is on its way.” He replied, still gasping for air.

 “Sorry kiddos I’ve got some real crime to fight” He turned away and started walking. 

“You are not going to try to arrest us?” John asked. 

“I was never going to arrest you. I just like playing James Bond once in a while. Stay out of trouble ok!” And with that, he was gone. John and Philip grinned at each other, had a quick laugh, then made their way down to the Marina. Perched on a similar rooftop, they let fresh ocean air and the glow of the setting sun conclude their tumultuous day.  

Weeks later John learned that Philip was the one who called in an anonymous tip to alert the police that day. He didn’t speak with Philip for a week or so. Philip didn’t blame him, but he knew he would come around. Although his devices were extreme, Philip thought it would be healthy for John to experience something wild. And It was. When a man looks at his past, he is either comforted by the fact he has lived the right way, or it fills him with regret. The moments that John's life hung into balance filled him with regret. But this wake-up call made him want to live the right way. Soon enough, John cherished the memory of his alleyway chase scene. Of course, he eventually came around and is still friends with Philip to this day. 

Now years later John stands there once again. The golden glow of the light. And the wall so perfectly framed. This is the place where his life had changed years ago. Now he is a successful muralist, and he even runs his own business: John’s Murals. Apparently, he has no spare creativity for naming things. But today his goal is to finish what he had started all those years ago. It’s a strange sight indeed, to see a professionally renowned painter doing graffiti. But that's what John wants to do today. You are probably wondering now: what amazing graffiti went unfinished for so many years? Well… John just couldn’t bear to leave a half-finished nude of Jessica Speedwagon, I suppose. You could ask any of his friends, and each will tell you the same thing. John has come so far, but he hasn’t changed at all.