By: Christopher Godsoe
An artist is never appreciated in their own lifetime.....
Steve’s eyes flicked from side to side, tracing a seam in the kitchen tables veneer. Distractedly, he turned his iPod nano over and over in his hands, the two actions unconsciously in sync.
From the table’s perspective, it might have appeared to the casual observer like he was mulling over a plan of escape. And that casual observer wouldn't have been far off.
“Your mother and I are very disappointed in you Steven”
It was always Steven when he screwed up. Not Stevie, Stevie-boy, Stevearoo, or any of the other idiotic nicknames his father often employed, but Steven.
His eyes stopped oscillating and narrowed on his father.
His normal response would be to roll his eyes, maybe offer a witty comeback. As he had royally screwed up this time, he decided that a little restraint might expedite the conversation.
Sometimes you had to pick your battles.
“We really don’t know what to do with you.” His mother contributed.
Great, my alcoholic mother has decided to join the party, and it’s not even happy hour.
He stifled a laugh, but couldn’t stop the contemptuous smirk that his father caught instantly. His father snatched the iPod from his hands and set it down on the counter behind him. The move surprised Steve, as it was a birthday present from his uncle that had arrived Fed-Ex yesterday, and his parents normally didn’t take away gifts that they hadn’t bought themselves.
Apparently this time his father was really pissed off.
He had seen the smirk because one usually finds what they are looking for. He expected an attitude because that's what he usually got from Steve in these situations.
Steve would break something, steal something, get caught smoking dope, and it was never his fault. In this case, he had been caught by the schools video surveillance “tagging” or spraying graffiti along one of the gymnasiums exterior walls.
He had spent about three hours completing his masterpiece, which just so happened to be three more hours than he had spent studying this semester. His grades reflected it, and in turn the attitude he had received from his parents over the flagging grades had been returned two fold.
His father had come to expect no less, and Steve felt compelled to live down to expectations. His therapist called it a "Self Fulfilling Prophecy".
I hope you enjoyed the first few paragraphs of "Judgment Cove-Part 1" See the full first installment in the June issue of On Arts Edge http://www.facebook.com/pages/On-Arts-Edge/168524386534750