Chapter 14 #2
His eyes widened, and he dropped his hands, both curled into fists, to his sides.
He had learned from the streets and had been told as a boy by his grandmother never to take a bag or a box or a bottle from someone without first knowing with total certainty what was in it.
The wrapped item that Theo had offered him was suddenly sinister, as welcome as a venomous snake.
Kendrick’s face became tense and cautious, his body defensive.
He stared at the object in Theo’s hand as if it were a mad dog on a tight chain.
Then his eyes darted in every direction.
He finally looked back at the befuddled old man.
“Who are you? What do you want with me?”
Kendrick would later wonder why he did not run away at that moment.
Theo’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter confusion. Until that moment, it had never occurred to him that a wrapped package might evoke suspicion or have the appearance of a sting or entrapment. Kendrick knew about such things.
Theo hastened to put the young man’s mind at ease. “No, no. You misunderstand. Please. Look.”
Theo peeled back the plain brown paper as quickly as he could, then held up the portrait in both hands.
The young man looked hard at the picture, only once taking a glance around to be assured of his safety. His hands gradually relaxed, his eyes focused, and, without knowing he’d done it, he took a step toward Theo.
Kendrick had seen the portrait once, from across the room at the Chalice.
He had been struck by the likeness the face bore to his own, but he could not imagine it was really him being taken seriously by a real artist. He had never gotten near enough in the Chalice to conclude that it was, indeed, himself.
He did remember someone taking a photograph of him in the coffee shop one day. It had made him uncomfortable, and he did not fully understand what the purpose was.
But now, up close, he could see that someone had taken great effort and given painstaking attention to every detail, every line, every shadow in his face. Someone had deemed him worthy of their time. Worthy enough to be matted, under glass, and framed.
Theo gushed with apology. “Mr. Kendrick, please, please forgive me.
I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Kendrick nodded.
Theo asked, “Have you seen this before?”
“I’m not sure.”
The frown and the furrows receded from Kendrick’s face. He leaned forward and gazed at the portrait cradled in the crook of Theo’s arm. His eyes were bright with wonderment. He remained silent, as did Theo, for a matter of seconds.
Kendrick studied the drawing.
Theo studied Kendrick.
“It’s yours if you’d like it, Mr. Kendrick. I assure you, I mean no harm. It is simply a gift.”
Kendrick received it delicately. His head bobbed as if to exhale words that were stuck in his throat.
Theo broke the silence. “You like it, yes?”
Kendrick nodded. He finally looked at Theo. “Why are you doin’ this? Who are you? How do you know me?” Theo returned his gaze, soft eyes above a closed smile.
“Mr. Kendrick, I’m an old man with a long story.
And I don’t know anything about you except the portrait.
I moved here recently and saw your picture at the coffee shop one day.
” Theo nodded toward the Chalice. “I saw all the portraits there and was told they were for sale. I don’t know where the idea came from —maybe heaven?
— but I wanted you to have your portrait.
In fact, I hope to give all of them away.
So, I bought yours — did you know your name is on the back?
— and I wrote you the letter and, well, here we stand. ”
Kendrick listened intently. His countenance, while relaxed, still tilted toward apprehension.
“Mr. Kendrick, do you know the saying, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive’?”
Kendrick nodded. His grandmother had quoted that scripture verse to him many times.
Theo leaned in. “I tell you, it’s true.”
Kendrick’s eyes were fixed on the portrait. Finally, he spoke “I’m gonna give it to my baby. I’m on my way to see her right now.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“No, sir. My baby. My little girl.”
With those words, “my little girl,” sweetness overcame any lingering distrust that Kendrick might have felt toward the old man. He smiled, eyes and mouth, at the prospect of giving such a gift to his daughter. “Today’s her birthday.”
“Maravilhoso!” Theo gestured dramatically, both hands shoulder high, palms open and upward. “How old?”
“Eight years old today. I’m going to the hospital to see her right now. The bus’ll be here in just a few minutes.”
Kendrick pointed to a nearby corner, where public transport collected passengers. A small knot of people was huddled at the pick-up point.
Theo’s smile disappeared and his expression changed from one of celebration to concern.
“I hope she’s OK, your daughter. She’s in the hospital? I don’t mean to be impolite, but is she alright?”
“She got hurt real bad in a wreck. Her mama died, and she been in and out of the hospital since it happened. Her leg isn’t healing right, so they had to do another surgery.”
Theo stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing steadily at the young father.
“I work night shift and stay with her in the daytime. My grandmama works day shift and stays with her at night. My grandmama is sick, too; she’s got ‘sugar,’ but she loves that little girl.”
“Sugar,” Theo found out later, was diabetes.
“Who is the doctor at the hospital?”
Kendrick shook his head. “I have a hard time sayin’ his name. He’s not from here, so I just call him ‘doctor.’ And they change her doctors a lot, so there might be a new one when I go up today. I hope not. But I gotta take what they give me.”
“What is her name, your daughter?”
“Lamisha. But I call her Scooby. She likes to draw.” Kendrick looked closely at his portrait. “Uh, uh, uh. She is gonna love this. He did this with pencils or what?”
“Pencils. It’s amazing, isn’t it? It looks just like you.”
“Shoot, it looks more like me than I do.” Kendrick smiled, even laughed a little. “Well, it can’t look more like me than I do, but it’s something’ else.”
“Mr. Kendrick, I tell you what I saw when I first looked at your picture. I thought, ‘This is a strong man.’ I could see worry and some hurt in the eyes, but still, I said to myself, there is kindness in this face. And now I know it is the face of a good father.” Theo nodded toward the frame.
“Yes, I could tell, this is the face of a man who can do much good in the world. The artist captured it all so clearly. Mr. Kendrick. I’m honored to meet you. ”
Again, not knowing how to respond, Kendrick simply nodded.
He was not used to being praised, especially by those so unlike him, but he didn’t feel that the old man was being patronizing or insincere.
He was relieved to see the bus approaching.
“There’s my ride. It only comes once a hour, so I gotta go.
Yes, sir, my little girl is gonna love this.
” He held the portrait up with both hands.
“Now, what’s your name again? Mr. Theo? Am I sayin’ that right? Theo?”
“That’s perfect!”
“Well, thank you for the picture. That’s really nice. Thank you.”
Kendrick turned and hurried toward the bus stop, a mixed gait of walking and jogging, as Theo stood at the fountain with his hands behind his back, leaning slightly toward the water.
Kendrick boarded the bus, cradling the picture to his chest. He took a seat beside a window. From there as the bus pulled away, he could see the old man standing at the Fedder. Two things dominated Kendrick’s thoughts: Scooby will be happy, and hardly anyone ever calls me “Mister.”
Late that afternoon, there was a knock on the door of room 626 on the orthopedic floor of the Crossway Medical Center.
Kendrick woke from a light sleep, crossed the room, and opened the door.
A young man, a uniformed courier of some sort, stood beside a cart.
It held a birthday cake, a small arrangement of fresh flowers, and a large wrapped box.
“These are for Miss Lamisha Whitaker,” the young man said.
“From who?” Kendrick’s voice was tinged with suspicion.
“I don’t know, sir. I’m just supposed to deliver it. It doesn’t say who sent it. But here’s a card.” The young man handed two envelopes, one pink and one white, through the sliver of the open door.
“Do I have to pay for this?”
“No, sir. Somebody sent it to you.”
Kendrick looked at the envelopes. His name, with “Mr.” before it, was on the white one. On the pink one, in beautiful flowing script, were the words, “Happy 8th birthday, Scooby.”
The next morning, when his work shift was over, Kendrick walked to the fountain, hoping the old man might be there.
He wanted to thank Mr. Theo for the birthday gifts.
The box of art supplies — pens and pencils, paints and brushes, pastels and pads — had awakened a gladness in Lamisha’s face that her dad had not seen since the accident.
Kendrick also wanted to ask again why the man was being so generous to total strangers. Such largesse was unsettling, even a bit frightening. But something bigger, undefinable, gave Kendrick hope that the old man meant nothing but good.
Theo was not at the Fedder. Other than a couple of students, coffees in hand, the benches around the fountain were empty. Kendrick turned and caught the number 37 bus to the hospital.