The Hawk: Part Six

  Stirring from sleep, Seth could hear Laurie’s inhalations. Seth wasn’t sure how many days Laurie had been in Miami; in one way time had ceased to matter from the moment Seth spotted Norah’s tattoo. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d received it, although he knew those numbers had been issued in Poland. He’d read so much about Auschwitz, the name seemed arbitrary. She’d never said where else she might have been confined, not while they made love at various motels or while walking through the Myersons’ neighborhood as dusk turned into the darkest night. Yet those digits were unique to her. Her name was Norah Wasserman and for the rest of her life her history would be displayed in green ink, never erased by time.

  Yet now time moved along in a blinding fashion, which was different to Seth’s previous lapses into depression. The tattoo had become a fixation for him, and while initially he’d tried not to stare at it, it had been impossible to ignore. For after the party, Norah didn’t attempt to hide it, or she hadn’t around him. Seth never asked if she wore sleeveless dresses during the day, but her arms were bare every evening they walked together. And on the nights he took her to a motel, after they were behind the locked door, she wore absolutely nothing. They made love countless times, but Seth’s attention wasn’t merely focused upon her sensuality. Once again he had access to why and yet…. How often had he traced over those numerals, but Norah hadn’t spoken. There was nothing for her to say, other than whispering his name as if he might forget it. For a while he had; shock therapy had erased a vile truth, but the tattoo had reminded him of why. Seth blinked, the overhead light was bright. Then Laurie cleared his throat, making Seth flinch. Laurie scraped the chair legs against the tile, but that sound didn’t bother Seth. He knew it troubled Laurie, then Seth shook his head. He wanted his cousin to go home. There was nothing more Laurie could do.

  Initially Seth had been surprised to wake again in yet another hospital. He wasn’t certain how doctors had revived him, but at least his mother wasn’t there, he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted this to end, because it wasn’t going to stop any other way. Norah couldn’t soothe his mind, her tattoo wouldn’t be forgotten, and Seth was tired. Never before had the end beckoned so clearly, and while suicide might be immoral compared to the tattoo, death was the only manner possible for Seth to not have to think anymore. He’d spent all of his adult life hiding from why and what did it matter now; the tattoo was permanent, he couldn’t sculpt, and here was Laurie once again trailing after him. Seth smiled, feeling so much older than his cousin. He’d felt older than Norah too, another quandary. He felt…. “Laurie, go home,” he muttered. Then Seth took a deep breath. The oxygen settled within his chest in holes desperate for air. Yet, as he exhaled, guilt and emptiness overwhelmed. If Laurie did leave, Seth would have no one to consider.

  Laurie smiled, then shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere unless you get off your keister and kick me out.”

  Seth smiled, but the pain associated with that mirth was crushing. He didn’t try to hide the agony because Laurie thought he knew the cause. Laurie had spent much of…. Was it yesterday or the day before, but then time truly held no meaning. Laurie had told Seth many things, much of it related to why Seth was in that hospital, and that once he was discharged, Laurie was going to take him to a place where doctors could properly care for him. Was Laurie aware of how many times he’d used the word properly, like he’d found a cure? But there was no cure, because now Seth remembered. As Norah would die with her tattoo, Seth would never forget why he’d enlisted, and there was nothing Laurie could do about that either.

  Now Laurie grasped Seth’s left hand. Laurie’s skin was warm, but then it was hot all the time. Why had Norah come to Florida in summer, Seth wondered, then he closed his eyes. She was here now so he could…. She was his way out. Seth just needed half an hour alone. He would reopen these wounds and…. Laurie offered a strong squeeze, which made Seth ache. Why wouldn’t Laurie let him go, why did he feel so responsible? There was nothing Laurie could do, damn him. But Seth was too weak to take back his hand and while he hated admitting it, Laurie’s grip was calming. Seth had never wanted to hurt Laurie in this process. But pain and loss were relative, because Norah had never asked for her tattoo, and sometimes Seth wondered if she felt as he did. She had survived, but why?

  Suddenly Seth shivered and managed to wrest his hand from Laurie’s. The blue barn again popped into Seth’s head, a painting he loved, but no longer wished to consider. Why had Eric painted it, not that Seth wondered how; it had been another of Eric’s flights as a hawk. But when he was again a man, why had he chosen to depict that particular scene? Seth ached deeply; he had refused pain medication. But the soreness of his arms had nothing on the wrenching within his chest, bound in the love he felt for Laurie and the guilt. And for how easily it seemed that Eric could excise his demons by placing them on canvas. And how beautifully he had done so; how many were truly aware of the outstanding majesty of that blue barn and all who were held safely within it?

  Now Seth struggled to sit up, he didn’t want that image in his mind. He wanted this to end, his life and Laurie’s devotion and…. “Get me out of here,” he said with as much strength as he could. Then he laughed. “Oh God, just leave. Please, I can’t take this anymore.”

  As Seth looked up, Laurie was merely a foot away. They stared at each other and Seth wanted to cry. His cousin’s green eyes were awash in tears, which poured down Laurie’s cheeks, falling onto his collar. Laurie grasped Seth’s hands, not bothering to wipe his face. “I won’t leave you.”

  Laurie’s plaintive voice made Seth shake his head. “You can’t do anything. Whatdya think you can do, huh?”

  Now Laurie stroked Seth’s face. “I can’t leave, okay?” Then Laurie chuckled, finally brushing away tears that still fell. “I’m stuck to the goddamn chair.”

  Seth stared at his cousin; Laurie wore shorts, maybe he was telling the truth. “Wear pants next time.”

  “Too hot,” Laurie smiled. Then he leaned back. “Do you really wanna die?”

  Seth nodded, then gazed at Laurie, who had never spoken so blatantly. “You know I do. Don’t know why I keep screwing it up though.”

  “I don’t think God wants you dead.”

  Now Seth stared long and hard at the man beside him. “God huh?” Seth snorted, then gazed at the wall. “God doesn’t care about….”

  “Seth, why are you still alive?”

  No one had ever asked him that question, although Seth had certainly pondered it. But he never attached any sacred purpose to it. He had no assumptions to his continued state of being, fragile or somewhat manageable, artistic or plebian. He looked back at his cousin, a man with so many reasons for joy. Stanford was at the top of Laurie’s list, then his work, their family, the Snyders…. Seth had to include those people because of Eric’s paintings at Caffey-Miller as well as the blue barn. And the hawks, so many hawks, but Laurie didn’t know about those. If he did, maybe he’d be in the same state as Seth, one step away from….

  “I don’t know why I’m still here. I don’t wanna be.” Not even the blue barn soothed the pain anymore. Once that canvas had been shipped to Europe, Seth had felt a disconnection, the first time he’d noticed that particular ache. Maybe being on the same continent as that painting had eased Seth, but now it was far away, all those people inside returned to soil they never imagined again revisiting. Then Seth laughed. He was crazy, his life was ridiculous. Men didn’t turn into hawks; they killed people in death camps or on battlefields. Laurie’s devotion was irrelevant, nothing meant anything, all life was….

  Again Laurie had gripped Seth’s hand, but this time Laurie grasped with purpose. “I can’t let you die. Too much’s been wasted. If you really wanna end it, you’re gonna have to do it after I’m dead. Maybe that’s unfair, but damnit, I will not sit back and let you kill yourself. I love you too much and I know you’re still in there. You have so much to give, to do, to….”

  Seth had closed his eyes long befo
re Laurie stopped speaking. The urge to create was like a blocked memory that surprisingly still flickered. For the last few years that gleam had been associated with the barn, like Eric was holding it, alongside the rest, for safekeeping. But Seth didn’t feel that spark anymore. Norah’s tattoo had been like a mirror, making Seth feel sick inside. He felt that way now, considering all she had suffered alongside what he had inflicted. Then Seth blinked; those months in Minnesota had been a brief reprieve, Eric’s two paintings a balm upon Seth’s parched soul. And on his scorched mind, which had enabled him to fashion the figurines within the hospital. Seth gazed at his hands, which weren’t covered in gauze. How had these appendages been used for such contrasting tasks, to create and to murder?

  Opening his eyes, he looked toward his window. Several small birds perched upon the sill outside, pecking along the building. “Laurie, who knows I’m here?”

  Laurie looked startled by the question. “Uh, just family. Why?”

  “Only our family?”

  Laurie raised his eyebrows, but so slightly, Seth wasn’t sure Laurie realized he’d done it. “I talked to Eric Snyder about it. I think he was gonna tell Sam Ahern.” Laurie sighed, then flashed the hint of a smile. “I’m sure they told their wives. But other than them and whoever Mom and Aunt Wilma told, I can’t say.”

  Seth nodded, then gazed back at the birds. “How did Eric take it?”

  Laurie didn’t answer immediately and Seth kept staring at the window. Laurie cracked his knuckles, then sighed. “He was pretty upset to be truthful. I haven’t spoken to him since. I should call him, although there’s not much to add. Stan’s probably talked to him in the interim.”

  Seth nodded, still keeping his face from Laurie’s view. Seth wore a crooked smile, his thoughts somewhat mischievous. Never before had he pondered such a notion, but what if one of those creatures wasn’t merely a bird? Would Eric fly all the way to Florida, could he even? “Laurie, what month is it?”

  “What? Um, June, I think.” Then Laurie chuckled. “Could be October for all I know.”

  Now Seth turned to face Laurie, finding a twinkle in his cousin’s eyes. The brightness teased, as if daring Seth to match even a fraction of the hope Laurie carried. How could he be so optimistic, Seth wondered. But if not for that expectation, Laurie wouldn’t be sitting there. He’d have gone back to New York by now. Seth didn’t lament his mother and sisters’ absences; they’d had the good sense to stay in Brooklyn. This man had flown all the way to Miami, but would he be the only one?

  He would on a plane, Seth permitted. Then Seth cracked a smile, he couldn’t help it. “Laurie, what’d Eric say to you, about me, I mean.”

  Laurie inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “He said that he and Lynne were praying for you. And that he wanted to be kept informed. I really should call him. Stan doesn’t need to play intermediary.”

  “What’ll you tell him?”

  Now Laurie smiled. “What should I tell him?”

  Seth stared at his arms, then to the window, where now no birds waited. He kept his gaze there, but spoke forcefully. “Tell him….” It was a gamble, Seth accepted, maybe not worth Seth’s time. But perhaps he owed himself, and Laurie, one last chance. And while Eric couldn’t actually tell Seth how he painted the blue barn, wouldn’t it be strange to see a hawk appearing wherever Seth ended up next. Could it happen, he wondered. “Tell him the truth. Or tell him whatever you want, I guess.” Seth shivered, then looked at his cousin. “I really don’t know him, so whatever you feel’s best.”

  “I think you know him better than you let on. He certainly knows you well enough. He knew the figurines were yours right off the bat, although he had no idea you’d done them so young.”

  Seth nodded, then closed his eyes. He could recall the day he formed those sculptures, probably in the same manner that Laurie always claimed he remembered the day Seth was brought home from the hospital. Maybe Seth’s recollections were more acceptable; he’d been a teenager at the time, but many memories were lost due to shock therapy. However the man and woman, she in her skirt, he with that bad foot, were indelibly woven through Seth. He’d created them in a brief flash of exuberance, like a master’s hands were using his. Other beautiful pieces had followed up to the time when Seth decided to enlist. He couldn’t recall the other figures, but that one couple he would forever remember. The day he forgot them, he sighed, would truly be the end of his life.

  He opened his eyes, seeing one small bird on the sill. If Eric came, Seth wouldn’t be at this hospital. Would Eric find him or would he locate Laurie, then follow him to wherever Seth resided. Was it fair to take Eric from his family, but none of this held any rational claim on equity. All of it was madness, it was….

  Laurie now blocked Seth’s view of the window. He knelt between the bed and wall, grabbing Seth’s right hand. “You still have the power to create. I know it was years ago, but that hasn’t been lost. It’s trapped here, where you are. I just want you to be free.”

  Laurie had placed his hand on Seth’s chest, bringing a fleeting peace to Seth’s pounding heart. Seth wanted to nod, he did wish to be…. How could he ever know real peace? Yet years ago he’d been happy; he could recall that sensation like it was yesterday. Those hands upon his, invisible to all, had gently but purposefully molded dead lumps into living people. Had the same hands been laid upon Norah, in Auschwitz, keeping her alive?

  Seth shook, but wasn’t aware. He wept, but had no idea. Only Laurie’s hug told him something had altered. Laurie now sat on the mattress, his arms like those guiding hands, but Laurie’s embrace held together an actual human being. Seth continued to tremble, now wanting to beg Laurie not to call Eric. But Seth couldn’t speak, so deep were his cries. The bird remained on the windowsill, seemingly unbothered, until one loud howl drove it away.

  Chapter 117