Chapter 29 #2
Theo shook his head. Basil sat up straight as he continued.
“So, it was heartbreak and rage and just a heck of a time for me. They were some dark days. I took over my sister’s lease and still live there.
My girlfriend is with me now, but for a long time, I was there alone.
Sometimes I’d sit by my sister’s bed and play songs.
Probably sounds kind of morbid or crazy, but those moments were my rescue.
I could still imagine I was singing her to sleep.
Anyway, I’m not sure where the idea came from — maybe it’s like that urge you had about the portraits — but one day I had the thought of singing on the street.
I’d seen others do it and figured I could give it a try.
I knew I wasn’t ready to go back into teaching.
It took a while to figure out the rules of being a street performer — who can stand where and all that — but I finally got it straight.
And it took a while to get used to being ignored by people, but that comes with the territory.
You gotta have thick skin to do this for a living.
You ain’t gonna make it long if you don’t. ”
Ain’t?
Theo took note of the southernism. Ain’t. It was his first time to hear it used. It was a word that played squarely into the sort of stereotypical caricature of the South that Theo had brought to Golden.
In truth, Basil had been a serious student in college and could diagram a sentence with impressive exactitude.
He was capable of the King’s English. But he also knew the patois of the street and was well-versed in the fine points of southern jargon.
There was, to him, something lovable and endearing, even artistic, about the dialect of the Promenade.
He felt no shame speaking and singing in the vernacular of his neighbors.
And then, as if suddenly aware that he had not yet responded to Theo’s question, Basil gave the short answer, two words: “Three years. I’ve been doing street music for three years.”
“Do you only play on certain nights?”
“Most weeks spring through autumn, I play at least three or four days a week, especially weekends. In winter, Shep lets me play in the shop sometimes. I don’t make much money, but my girlfriend and I are pretty low maintenance.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll do this.
Believe it or not, it’s pretty hard work.
My poor dad thinks I’ve lost my mind, and my mom worries about me starving.
I should have outgrown my need for their blessing by now, but what they think still matters to me.
I considered doing some tutoring or substitute teaching just to be able to tell them I have a respectable job. ”
Theo perked up. He knew a little girl who might benefit from having a private tutor. “So, you still teach sometimes?”
“Not yet, but maybe.”
“Do you still write songs?”
“All the time. I don’t finish many. If I had a reason to, concerts or something, I think I would.
But mostly I start them and quit before I’m finished.
I hope someday I can record a few of them, a good recording, just to see how they’d sound with a bit of polish.
In fact, have you seen the guy who carries the cello around?
Simone? I barely know him, but I told him I was gonna write a song for him and his cello.
That’d be kind of interestin’, wouldn’t it?
So, Mr. Theo, that’s me. What about you?
Your letter said you just recently moved to town. ”
Another shout across the median, the same voice as previously, called out to Basil. He waved it off as he’d done minutes earlier.
“It looks like you need to get to work,” Theo said. “Your fans are getting restless.”
Basil chuckled. “If I depended on them for my next meal, I’d be in trouble. But maybe I do need to go. Let’s talk again sometime, OK?”
“Basil, before you go, may I tell you something?” Theo pulled the paper off the portrait and held it on his knees so that it was plainly visible to the both of them. “I want to tell you what I saw when I looked at your portrait.”
Basil said nothing, but, emboldened by the old man’s focus on the drawing, looked at it himself as Theo’s finger touched the glass.
“I saw a boy in the smile. It’s a face that hasn’t forgotten playfulness.
I think children would be drawn to this face.
But I also see a man. There is wisdom here, I believe.
In the eyes. A young, tender heart; a wise, old soul.
That’s a good combination. Wisdom and playfulness.
There is the possibility of a saint in this face.
This could well be a portrait of St. Basil. ”
Basil shook his head at such a ludicrous suggestion.
St. Basil? “No time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve already told you enough to permanently disqualify me from that club.
I hate my brother-in-law. I wimped out on teaching kids in poverty.
I’m living hand to mouth. My mom says I’m living in sin with my girlfriend.
I’m hardly making the world a better place.
They’d have to change the requirements of sainthood a lot for me to ever be one. ”
Theo smiled and patted Basil’s knee.
“Basil, my good fellow, there is a term for ones like us. ‘Raw material.’ Read your Augustine. And remember, heaven can draw a straight line with a crooked stick.”
Though still doubtful, Basil grinned. “I suppose so, but sainthood? Don’t think so. Maybe I’ll just try to be the guy you see in the picture. Wisdom and playfulness?”
Theo patted Basil’s knee again and nodded his old head. “That’s a start. Tender heart, wise soul. That’s a good start. Go sing like that fellow tonight.”
They rose to leave. What started as a handshake became the comfortable and confident hug of two old friends. Basil picked up his guitar case and backpack with his left hand and gripped the portrait, loosely covered with the wrapping paper, in his right.
“Well, Theo, wish me a good night.”
“Yes, yes. May all your tips be tens and twenties.”
“Now don’t get carried away.”
“Then may all your tips tonight fall from heaven. Coins of gold.”
“I like it. Hey, Theo, you didn’t ask me about my name. People always ask about my name.”
“Ha. They ask me about mine too. Let’s leave it at this: You are Basil, and I am Theo.”
A gold leaf fell between them. Another late departure.
The lanky figure took his place on the sidewalk, strummed loudly, lifted his voice, and sang. Theo remained at the fountain, listening to the sounds of street noise before heading west to watch sunset over the river and then returning to Ponder House.