The Colors of Levi

“Where’s the fire starter?” Levi’s mom hollered in the crisp air as she scrambled to search through one of the many bags that had shuffled around in the RV during the road trip to Pine Haven Campground—the same one they went to every year for their family reunion. He stared at the dark oak giants towering them and couldn’t remember if he brought one or if he was supposed to buy one on his way over. The smell of the oak wood mixed with the disturbed dirt and campfires across the campground distracted him. He could hear neighboring campers walking by, chatting about the nearby lake. 
    “I don’t know, Mom.” He answered as he walked by her and picked up his turkey sandwich. He looked and noticed the clouds forming above them, clearing away the beautiful sky from moments prior. He faced her and pointed up to the sky, drawing her attention to the absence of birdsongs in the trees. The addition of gloominess that hovered between the clouds penetrated his clothes like raindrops. He felt like the clouds. He was trying to be happy but doing so seemed like at task. It was the first year his grandpa—Levi’s favorite person in the world—was no longer with them at the reunion. 

~ ~ ~ 

“Levi, try mixing blue and yellow.” His grandfather said. It was the first time he had painted with a brush. The way it felt in his hands, how the sun penetrated through the sheer, white curtains, and how his grandfather looked at him with kindness.

He glanced up into his grandpa’s eyes, full of wonder. The colorful canvases, the brushes stained with paint, the shapes that found themselves to be anywhere and everywhere. He looked down at the floor and saw how beautiful it was. His mom would have told him it was dirty, dried paint splattered across the floor. It was as if the wood boards were created that way. 

Little six-year-old Levi mixed the sky-blue and sunflower-yellow paints together, watching the magic happen as the two colors combined to make green. His excitement wanted to escape him. He wanted to dip a brush into all the paints and splatter them everywhere. The energy he felt made his heart want to do cartwheels and backflips.

“Grandpa,” he stared up at him. 

“Yeah, Levi?” 

“I wanna paint like you someday.” He smiled and imagined himself creating a beautiful masterpiece. Someday he would be able to paint as well as his grandfather. 

“You know what? You can have this studio when you grow up.” He patted Levi’s shoulder. 

Levi imagined what it would be like to have it all to himself one day. All the tools at his fingertips, when he had more skills, and when he could do whatever he wanted as a grown up. 

~ ~ ~

The smell of a newly lit campfire drew his attention to the action behind him. The crackle of the flames made everything glow around him. He pondered what it would be like to be immersed in such a setting more often. The backdrop of the sky against the lake and framed with trees looked like live artwork itself. He didn't really used to notice these things, did he? It almost seemed as if time forgot about him and propelled him from a little child to a 22-year-old in a matter of hearbeats. When he was young, he would find sticks and branches to make forts out of when he went camping. A campground was a kid’s imaginative playground. Now, he sits and watches creative birds building their own forts amongst the trees.

He glanced at his mother and noticed her dress that she was excited to wear, purchased just for the reunion, had soot on the ruffles of the skirt. Did she notice? What else didn’t she notice? He didn’t understand how everyone was acting as if everything was normal. Grandpa was missing from their lives. Nothing was the same now. 

When they finally did arrive to the spacious field that held white tables and chairs, he saw many people he recognized but didn’t remember most of their names.. He walked up with his parents and two older siblings, all who seemed to do a lot better at social gatherings than him. When people approached them to greet his family, they seemed to be going through the motions and no one truly cared, which was a usual experience for Levi—rather, it was expected. Before his grandfather passed away, he would always go directly to him and talk with him for the entirety of each family gathering, big or small. Now his familiarity was gone, like the wind swept away the leaves. But he was determined to try to still enjoy time with his family. 

As the party and food settled, Levi went back to the snack tables and felt a buzzing in his back pocket. I thought I turned my ringer off? He glanced behind him and gave his mom a look, signaling that he had to take an important call—a conversation he wished didn’t need to happen. “Hello, this is Levi Johnson,” he answered in response to his lawyer on the phone, not ready for what could be said on the other end of the call. He gritted his teeth and fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. His art studio couldn’t close—it was the only physical thing left of his grandfather, and he had to keep it open in his honor. 

Foreclosure…? He froze and the word rang in his mind when it ran from Mr. Warner’s lips. A possibility of a foreclosure? No… No, It couldn’t be. “Sir, I don’t understand. I thought I was in the clear and guaranteed I would be okay for six months.” Foreclosure…? It continued to get louder than any other word mixed in their conversation. “Thank you. I appreciate your time.” Levi tried his best to avoid the tears and put his phone in his back pocket once more, silencing the ringer to avoid more heartbreaking news. Foreclosure…? 

He shuffled his feet along the dusty ground and walked towards a nearby pine tree, anxiety filling his chest. He felt a sting in his body—the same way he felt when he heard the news of his grandfather’s passing. A situation out of his control and darkness clouding his vision. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, was there? Just darkness. How would he be able to carry on with the rest of his family reunion with this bad news hanging over his head like another death in the family? He traced abstract shapes in the dirt with his foot as his eyes darted from one thing to the next. He could leave. Everyone would understand, right? Or maybe they would resent him for leaving his family for something that could be put off until the work week started? 

The sound of laughter rang with annoyance in his head. The layered conversations created even more disturbance in his mind, mixed with anxiousness and fear. 

His mom walked back to where he was at the tables, putting her hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing, bud?” She looked up at him—looking up ever since he grew taller than her in the tenth grade—and he could tell she wanted to make all of his problems disappear. 

“Can we talk?” Levi spurt out before he even had the chance to think about his words. Her expression changed, clearly preparing herself for bad news. He immediately wished on all the stars, trees, and pebbles of dirt on the ground that he hadn’t said anything, not here at least. He swallowed hard. Levi wanted to run, just run away from it all. He could tell she read his eyes and knew to go on a walk together, away from everyone else, so that they could talk more privately. 

“What’s going on, honey?” She asked when they were out of earshot and crossed her arms to protect herself from the cold that danced its way between them, weaving through their legs as they avoided stepping on rocks. 

“I got a call from Mr. Warner, and he said Grandpa’s building may be foreclosing.” He mindlessly drew shapes on the surface of his jacket with his fingertips, erasing a light layer of dust that flurried up as they walked. He put his hand over his heart to see how fast it was beating—quicker and quicker. He never forgot that sound of his grandfather’s heartbeat and the beeps of the monitor during his last days in the hospital room. Those final moments that he saw his grandfather were his most painful yet cherished memories. Looking up at the unpaved path, he realized they had stopped walking. 

His mother held onto him tightly. She said, “I’m always here.” That was the phrase she had said to him, at least as far back as his memory would let him recall. Those words had never been wrong. She was always there for him and he didn’t doubt that she would be now. He needed this.

During those tender moments, Levi saw the sun setting. It was another one of God’s stunning masterpieces in the sky. Usually when he found a scene he wanted to paint, he would closely examine all the details and capture it in his mind or take a picture of it, but he felt like this space in time was just meant for observation. He almost felt as if his grandfather had something to do with the beautiful artwork in the sky. 

As his corner of the world grew darker, flashlights and campfires lighting the campground, he heard word that there would be fireworks. He had grown to love fireworks. The colors, the spark, the surprise of it all. The way they would light up the sky and he would feel in awe every single time, like the way he felt when his grandfather would paint and how he felt when he would lay a brush dipped in paint to a canvas. He understood what it meant to appreciate art enough that he could create meaningful art. Each brush stroke was like he was creating his own. world. Each sparkle in the sky made the trees look up and drew each creature’s attention. Maybe someday the world would see him half as good as they admired the moon, or maybe not. 

~ ~ ~ 

“It was nice to see you, Levi,” someone said as they hugged him goodbye, which was an interesting phrase since they hadn’t talked all weekend. 

“It was great seeing you, too.” What was her name? She didn’t really feel like family. Sure, he saw her once a year, but he only ever remembered seeing her chatting with other women, drowned in gossip, away from the rest of the crowd. Kind of like he did with his grandfather… But her family was leaving a day early because her husband had to work the next day, apparently. Couldn’t I leave early then, too? The fact that they got to leave early and they were respected for it didn’t make any sense to Levi. 

Buzz buzz. He felt his phone going off in his pocket again. He knew it would look rude to take a phone call. His car wasn’t parked too far away—Buzz buzz—he could take a call in there without it looking bad to everyone else. He gave a look to his mom, signaling the importance of the call, and glanced toward his car. Levi started walking as if he had to quickly grab something from his car. He wouldn’t have much time before Mr. Warner would be sent to voicemail.The tall grass made it more difficult and the snap of sticks communicated to his brain that his feet hurt. Buzz buzz. He answered the call and muted his microphone for the last few seconds while he got into his car. 

Levi unmuted the microphone. “Hello?” Please, please, please… If he was told that his grandfather’s personal art studio was gone for good, he was about ready to stand in front of the studio’s doorway, chain himself to the pillars, and protect it from anyone trespassing its grounds. 

After a minute of what seemed like sentences that were created to stall, Mr. Warner said, “The foreclosure will be happening in a week.” Silence cut him. The pain of his grandfather's death just continued.

“No, no. You don’t understand, sir. This can’t happen. It can’t.” Thoughts of people tearing out his grandfather’s legacy and treating it as some old regular building on the street prompted him to reach into his pocket and take his keys out. He was leaving. Levi needed to save the last thing left of the person who meant the most to him. He didn’t have a choice at this point. He didn’t care about acting happy for everyone else anymore. 

“Mr. Johnson, I can’t talk for much longer. My office will be closing in an hour and I have some things to finish up. The foreclosure is final.” 

This stopped Levi. He stared at the field in front of him, keys in hand and ready to start the car. If his grandfather was here, he’d know what to do. He always had the right words to say, and knew how to comfort a severed soul. He could have solved this. 

Levi could leave right then and there. He didn’t have anything important back at the RV. He could pick up the rest of his belongings at his parent’s place at a later time. He made the decision; he was leaving. “Mr. Warner, I will be in town in about forty-five minutes to further discuss this. I understand the urgency, and I will do whatever it takes to keep this place.” He had already explained his story to the man. Immediately after the call, he texted his mother and told her the plan. There was no stopping him. 

He sped out of the campsite. Couldn’t people see his passion for the place and for art? As he gripped the steering wheel, his thumbs would mindlessly create shapes on the wheel, gliding across the dark leather and helping him cope with the chaos in this heart. 

A stoplight turned red—one known for its extensive time showing its crayon-red side—just in time for him to stop. No.. This can’t be happening. Not today… He could already hear the office door closing behind Mr. Warner as he headed home at the end of a long day. 

Why couldn’t life work out as well for him as the rest of his family’s lives? They weren’t rushing around to pull things together. If his grandpa was alive, Levi wouldn’t have been in this situation. He wanted to scream, yell at the sky. Why did everything have to get so messed up for him? 

When he pulled up to the office building, he saw Mr. Warner outside, walking to his car. “Mr. Warner!” Levi needed to get his attention. He saw the man’s head turn. This was his shot, his only chance. He swiftly opened his door and looked over it to make clear eye contact with his lawyer. Closing the car door, he shoved his keys and phone into his pockets. He probably didn’t have to run, but he felt the rush and the adrenaline wouldn’t let him slow down to a normal pace. “Mr. Warner, I need to talk to you about the foreclosure.” 

“I’m done working for the day, Mr. Johnson.” He was clearly trying to get home, done with work for the day. Levi could tell he wanted to keep walking to his car and put off the foreclosure. He probably put in a lot of hours and work into his week already. 

“You know my story, Mr. Warner. I have to keep the place.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands at this point.” 

“Is there anyone else I can talk to?” He needed to make progress with someone. 

“I’m sorry, Levi. You could talk to your bank, but I've done all that I can.” He stopped and exhaled. His work day wasn’t done, and Levi noticed he was exhausted. He took out his phone and started scrolling, tapping, and typing. “.” He executed a few more actions on his phone. “I just sent you the number  for the REO officer at the bank.” 

His heart stopped—not like the way it did when he heard of his grandfather’s passing, but like when inspiration strikes him . Somehow the sky seemed brighter. The end of the tunnel held a lit match that led to a brighter and more hopeful future. “Thank you so much.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you’ll be able to get it back, though. I tried everything I could.” His lips straighten and stared at the ground, shaking his head. His business attire didn’t look like he could head off to a congratulatory wedding but rather a funeral. 

Levi knew the odds were against him, but if there was anything his grandfather taught him besides the arts, it was to never stop trying. 

“I’ll reach out to you when I’m back in the office on Monday.” He looked Levi in the eyes, wishing him the best. 

Levi raced back to his car and instantaneously called the number, hoping to connect. “Hello? This is Levi Johnson. I'm the current owner of the art studio that is about to be foreclosed on Cardinal Street in Anderville. I was told I should contact you. Is there anything I can do to prevent it from foreclosing?” 

“Hi, Levi. My name’s Arthur Pictor., and I’m currently handling your case. Regarding your question, at this moment there isn’t anything you can do. I’m sorry.” 

His grandfather deserved to not be forgotten. He would fight for him. He would do anything to keep his grandfather alive. “Are you sure?” There had to be something. 

He was still in shock from everything happening. Sitting in his car in the parking lot of the law firm, the sun shined brighter but he started to feel darker. The world could easily move on without him, regardless of his issues. He tensed up  and leaned against the leather seat. It felt hard and cold, .like the lake water. His heart stung, preparing for another loss. What would his grandfather want? There was no answer. There was no other option but defeat. Leaving him feeling helpless and with no direction but to succumb to the overbearing burden of grief. 

~ ~ ~ 

After crying himself to sleep the night prior, he awoke to the sound of his phone ringing, and an intense buzzing against the bedside table. The screen lit up that corner of the room, signifying a notification of a phone call. He reached over and discovered it was his mom. 

“Hello?" His tired voice made itself known for the first time that morning. 

“Hey, Levi. How are you doing?” That's right. She hadn’t heard anything after he left for the law firm. 

“The studio is gone. I can't do anything.” It was hard to exhale without breaking down and crying. He hadn't even noticed that the sun came up. The blinds barely gave any indication of the time of day. His clothes smelled of campfire from the day before since he never changed out of his clothes and collapsed in bed. 

She didn't respond for a moment. He realized for the first time that she also had to process the loss of her father's studio. She was strong for him. He appreciated that. “Sweetie, do you need anything? Do you want me to come over?” 

Did he want to be around another person? Could he deal with that? “No, I think I’m good, but I do think a talk would be good." She was good with heart-to-heart talks. They continued to discuss the issue and his thoughts on the phone. She reassured him that the outcome of the studio didn't change the relationship between him and his grandfather. 

“Are you bottling it all up or are you painting?” 

Painting? How could he paint at a time like this? That wasn't even an option. It would feel better than trapping his emotions inside, conflicting and battling to overcome one another. 

“I’m just in bed." 

“Honey, it’ll be okay.” He knew that he should paint, even if it was just black paint smothered across a canvas. 

Their conversation came to a close and he stared at the paintings his grandfather gave him. Maybe he should paint. It could be something small. Art was his coping mechanism, so why would he avoid it as if it would hurt him? Levi walked over to his set of paints and picked up a paintbrush. He dipped it into cardinal-red paint and then touched it to the canvas. 

The glide of the paint-loaded brush made his posture relax. This was home to him. He pictured the fireworks lighting up the night sky, reflecting off the water, and let the brush dance along the canvas. He watched as the bristles created layers of brilliance, like how his grandfather seemed to do so effortlessly.   

As he stepped back to view his artwork, he noticed that the hours passed as if they were like seconds. He loved how the firework appeared to glimmer in the sunlight that streamed through his windows. 

Grandpa, I know you’d be happy if you were still here. I just wish you were here. He added his finishing touch—a bird in the sky. Ever since his grandpa died, it was his way of including him in every piece of art. This piece may just be his favorite of his own work.

It was okay to feel sad sometimes. Art didn’t always have to come from a place of happiness, because all emotions could lead to a marvelous story of color.

~ ~ ~ 

This is just a short story I wrote for one of my classes, and I thought I'd share it here. I also thought I'd just have it all in one post instead of separating it. So, I hope you enjoy it! 

~The Inspired One