Twisted immortality

VIII - What's the truth?

Henry sat quietly on to the big chunk of wood, right beside Songkarn. He didn't talk. Songkarn wondered if Henry could possibly guess what he was thinking. About what he thought he knew. He had to be old enough to guess which possible way Songkarn's day would have turned. Why Songkarn was here rather than coming back to the hotel to face him. Songkarn stayed quiet for some more time. Henry didn't try to break the silence either.

"Do you know my granddad?"

"I know of him." This was called avoidance, or maneuvering.

"Do you still remember him?"

"I'm not sure, what are you talking about?" Another one.

Songkarn knew that he wasn't going to get answers like this. Henry wouldn't be spilling the beans that easily. But for Songkarn, after going through the ordeal with his mother, not knowing anything felt like the last thing he was interested in. He had too many questions piled up. No way was he just sitting silently and letting Henry go easily like that. He needed something, anything from him.

So, he took the seven pictures from granddad's box and handed them to Henry. If he wasn't mistaken, Henry's hands trembled slightly when he took them from him. He went through them very slowly. It took him some time. When he got to the last three pictures, Henry watched the one with the two of them for a long time.

Songkarn didn't dare to look straight into his eyes, so he turned his gaze back to the sea.

"I've been having trouble sleeping for almost a year now. I mostly only get peaceful sleep for two hours per night. Even without waking up, sleeping longer periods feels just restless and unsafe. Also, I see these dreams. The dreams are always about a mansion. This house from these pictures. You are in the mansion. At every doorway, serious and forlorn. And there is a room with a painting."

At that last sentence, Henry shuddered visibly. Before that, he didn't make any movement at all. He had looked almost frozen. There had to be something with the painting, which Songkarn had already understood. The painting had to be an explanation for everything.

"But I've never seen it. What's in the painting? I saw only blackness. Henry, what's painted on that canvas?"

Henry didn't react and Songkarn thought that he truly would not answer him.

"You shouldn't know everything about one person, you know... There are so many things I don't even know how to answer," Henry said. "I knew your grandfather. He was a man with golden hands. I called him that. He could turn anything he touched into an art form in itself."

Songkarn was a bit melancholy as he looked at the water. He remembered so little of his granddad. Mostly his big warm eyes. The deep lines on his face. His kind voice. He almost asked about his granddad instead of questions he was interested in first. He hoped he could talk about him later in the future.

"Henry, how old are you?"

"Uhh. Let's say. I'm somewhat older than you." Songkarn snorted loudly at that.

"Well, that's an understatement. Thanks for clarifying."

"Songkarn. Let's go back to the hotel. Let's have a drink and talk there. Not sure, how you're feeling but I want a drink right now." Songkarn nodded. They walked to the car and rode the short distance back to the hotel in silence. When they got back to Henry's suite Songkarn thought something silly and somehow said exactly what he was thinking.

"You are probably too rich to imagine, right? Like more than any man should ever need, rich, right?" He was amazed at the sudden outburst from Henry. The laughing was loud and free. How could a man look so happy all of a sudden? How could a man's face look so beautiful? It's as if happiness fitted him. But he had never felt it. Smiling and laughing seemed to be new for Henry. Did he really stay alone and sad for years? When had he last laughed? Had he ever?