Painting Pictures
They sat side by side, their knees almost touching but not quite. Bam’s brown, curly hair touched the side of Ville’s face, tickling it and he giggled softly. His own dark hair was pushed back behind his ears and away from his face with only a few strands falling in front of his crystal green eyes, of which Bam was staring into intently. Bam spoke, his deep, raspy voice echoing around the small room the two were sitting in.
“What is friendship?” he asked, a puzzled look spreading across Ville’s pale face.
“Something special held between to people,” Ville answered uncertainly.
“Paint me a picture,” Bam replied, not showing any signs in his face for or against the answer Ville had just given him.
“But I have no p…” Ville started, confusion showing in his eyes.
“Not with paint,” Bam cut in with an unnecessary solemness in his voice “With words,”
Ville stared at his feet and the tattered shoes they wore for a long while before glancing up into Bam’s baby blue eyes and speaking.
“There are two people, sitting beside each other and talking. Not about anything important, just pointless chatter. They don’t know each others problems or fears; they just listen to each other ramble about the blueness of the sky or the greenness of the grass. They understand each other in this moment although they understand nothing about each others futures or pasts. When they leave, they hug each other and even if they never meet or speak again what they held between them in that moment meant something to both of them. That is friendship,” Ville concluded.
Bam nodded quickly, brushing away the hair that had fallen into his eyes. He glanced about the small room and the bits and pieces it contained; the small memories of past birthdays and Christmases or the happy moments frozen in picture frames. He turned back to Ville.
“What is happiness?” Bam questioned, his expressionless face doing nothing to calm Ville’s somewhat unsettled nerves.
“A way of looking at things,” Ville ventured slowly “Moments in life when everything seems right”
“Paint me a picture” Bam said, his voice holding no expression.
Ville sighed and began
“There are two people sitting beside each other and they are friends. One of them likes the other but is too afraid to tell them about it. The mood between them is happy and innocent. Even though the other person doesn’t know how the first person feels they take the other persons hand in theirs and smile at them. For the first person, that is happiness,” Ville ended.
Again Bam nodded as if to agree with Ville’s answer but not wishing to further the topic. His eyes looked up and down the person that sat beside him. He was thinner than Bam, yet he seemed strong in his own way. Looking away from Ville, he glanced around the room once again, looking at the border of gold heartagrams that ran around the top of the wall. After sitting in silent for a few more moments he again asked a question.
“What is love?” he asked
“Why?” Ville pleaded, not wishing to play his little game any longer.
“Paint me a picture” he requested, a softness buried in his forceful voice.
Ville looked at Bam unhappily, but continued on to answer him anyway.
“There are two people and they are friends, no, not just friends, more than friends. They care deeply about each other and completely trust and understand each other. They are sitting beside each other and they don’t have to speak to know they are both thinking about each other. One smiles at the other and then they both lean over and kiss each other. That is love,” Ville finished.
To this, Bam responded, not in words but his actions meant just as much. Gently he weaved his fingers into Ville’s and smiled at him gently. A smile also spread across Ville’s face but it didn’t stay there for long before Bam kissed it away. After several moments that felt so much longer than they were, Bam pulled away. He then put his arms around Ville, hugging him tightly before turning and leaving the room. A silent, happy tear slipped down Ville’s face.