Date: Thu, 15 Aug 2002 14:23:02 +0000
From: Ben nobody <ben_sc@hotmail.com>
Subject: Berto" Roses XXXXVIII-Beginnings

Berto's Roses

By Ben

Part XXXVII

I do not know why, but it is so. I do my best artwork when I am depressed.
And, believe me, I was depressed-deeply depressed. I was in mourning; I was
helpless to do anything about the horrible events of the past twenty-four
hours.

I had a few hours until Ricky would get to the house. I knew sleep would be
impossible, and I had cleaned up the debris from the storm earlier. I
walked numbly into my studio and picked one of my larger canvasses I had
shipped from Chicago. I placed it on my big table and turned on my
computer.  I found my favorite digital photograph of Berto in the rose
garden and began to sketch onto the canvas.

My eyes watched as my hands, seemingly on their own, reproduced the lines
and shapes of the photograph in near full scale. I opened my new paints and
applied the earth-tone pigments to my well-used palette. Starting with the
adobe wall background, I applied the paint to the canvas, mixing and
blending as the fine sable brushes work across the prepared canvas.

The painting began to take on life. I was able to capture, with my brush,
what I had with my camera.  Berto's youth and exuberance began to take on
almost three-dimensional form.  I painted from my heart; I painted from my
pain and sadness. My love for this young man flowed down my arms and was
manifested upon the canvas in a way that I would later not remember and
scarcely believe.

Time past without me noticing. The orange light and long shadows of early
evening caused me to look up from my now finished creation. I carefully
picked up the wet painting and set it up on a large easel against the wall
next to the door. I stood in the middle of the room and just stared at it.

Perhaps it takes an artist to understand the feelings that overcame me as I
looked at what I had done. It isn't conceit, or false pride when an artist,
be they a singer, dancer, songwriter, poet, or one whose gift is visual art
can look at their performance and know, with certainty, that that which was
produced through them is magic. Something higher, more perfect, directed
the brush, the step, the voice, the mind to create to a level that it's
amazing to oneself.

	It turned on the lights and began cleaning my brushes and putting
away the paints. I glanced from time to time at the painting. It was
complete dark outside and I realized, with a start that Ricky would be
arriving at any minute with Carla and Berto. My hosting skills
automatically took over and I went to the kitchen and began fixing some
light food, in case anybody was hungry.

	I was not looking forward to this. At the same time, I needed to be
with theses people. They all have suffered loss, and even greater than
me. I, at least, had not lost a parent in the tragic accident. And Ricky
had lost his beloved Jose as well. I didn't know what to expect, I didn't
know what to say. I felt so inadequate. I fussed around in the kitchen then
made sure the bed in Berto's room and two other rooms had fresh linen and
that the bathrooms were stocked with soap, shampoo and towels, etc.

I looked out the window for the millionth time and saw the front end of the
limousine drive through the gap in the wall and into the carport. The
driver got out and opened the passenger door. I saw Ricky's head rise above
the door as he emerged. I ran to him and we embraced. I held him tightly
and felt his arms pulled around me as well. I just held him and gently
swayed with him.

"Oh, Ricky. I am so sorry, my friend. I wish I could bear your pain for
you." I said softly and kissed the top of his head as I hugged him. He
looked up at me with brimming eyes, then closed them and the tears spilled
out and down his handsome face. I kissed his eyelids then held him to me
again.

"Ben?" came a small feminine voice from inside the car. Ricky turned and
handed Carla out. "How are you, Ben? She asked me. I was overwhelmed with
her concern for me at a time like this. I shook my head and said, "I
honestly don't know right now." She nodded her understanding and took me
into her tender arms. I held her closely and knew that she was the one with
the strength. Carla would hold it all together and get us all through this.
It was she who would be making the decisions about memorial services and
what must be done to honor the lives of those we all held so dear.

I peered into the darkness of the car and asked, "Where's Berto?" Carla
turned toward the interior and reached out her hand. She began withdrawing
it and I saw Berto slowly emerge. Only it was not the Berto I
remembered. It was not the Berto I had just finished painting on the canvas
in my studio. I was shocked and concerned at his appearance.

His eyes, once so full of excitement and happiness now held a dull,
haunting stare and seemed focused on nothing. There were dark circles
around them and he had no expression on his face. I held my arms open to
him but he walked right by me and into the kitchen. I looked at Carla and
she shrugged. "He is taking this very hard, Ben.  Give him some time."

I was devastated. Did he still hate me, because he saw me kissing Raul
before he went back to school?  Could it be possible that it was just one
week since that horrible night? I wanted to hold him and comfort him. I
wanted to tell him that everything would be alright. I wanted to be able to
give him his mother back, but that was impossible. I needed him to reach
out to me in his time of grief. I loved him so much, and he wanted nothing
to do with me. This made the pain even worse for me.

I followed him inside and he was slowly looking around the kitchen, then
made his way to the stairs. I followed him to the second floor.  "I made
your bed, Berto. There are fresh towels in the bathroom if you want to take
a shower." I sounded like such an ass.  Berto did not turn into his room as
I expected but continued down the hall and turned on the light in
Manuella's room.

He just stood and stared. I realized that he was looking for his mother. He
must have been holding out some hope that somehow it wasn't true, that he
would find her in the kitchen or in her room.  What happened next broke my
heart in two. He gave a little whimper, and looked at me. His face was that
of a scared, lost little boy. He gave a choked sound and uttered, "Mama."
Then he fainted and collapsed on the floor.

I ran to him and caught him just before he hit and cushioned his fall. I
held his head and kissed him. My tears fell on his beautiful, sweet face as
I said his name, softly, over and over. I rocked him in my arms and was
racked with great sobs. I held him tightly to me, willing his hurt away. I
don't know how long I stayed there with him like that, but Carla found us
there and shook me into reality.

"Ben, Ben! " I looked up at her blurry image. "You must put him to bed,
Ben.  Here let me help you."

"No, Carla, please, let me do it."  I managed to stand and cradle Berto in
my arms, then carried him into his room. Carla pulled back the sheet and I
lay him down. I lovingly removed his shoes, socks and shirt, then drew the
sheet over his still form. I tucked him in and bent to kiss his face. I
remembered the night I had whispered to him and had been shocked at his
sleepy reply.

I started to sit down next to him, but Carla said, "Enrique needs to see
you. He is downstairs in the sunroom."  I looked anxiously down at Berto
and started to protest that I need to stay with him. Carla gently touched
my arm and said, "He will sleep now and I will stay with him. Enrique needs
you now."

As small and as young as Carla was, she was still a force to be reckoned
with.  I started out the door and turned one more time to make sure Berto
was in capable hands. Carla reached a small, soft hand to brush the hair
off his forehead and sat next to him on the bed. I knew he would be fine
with her there.

I found Ricky sitting in one of the large chairs and sipping a glass of
what I assumed was some alcoholic beverage.  He handed me a bottled water
and I sat opposite him in a matching chair. I reached out and held his
strong masculine hand in mine.  We were silent for a time. Then Ricky said.
"We will have a memorial service for them, Ben. Here in Santa Rosalia. We
will honor them and celebrate their lives. At my nod, he continued, "Have
you spoken to Manuella's sister, yet?"

"Oh my God, Ricky! No, I haven't." I was mortified. I hadn't given
Manuella's sister or Carlos a thought.  Truth was, I wasn't even sure I
could have communicated with them, anyway.  My Spanish was even more
limited than their English.

"In the morning, maybe I should take Berto with me to tell them what has
happened." Ricky suggested.

"I don't know if he's going to be in any kind of shape to do that,
Ricky. He went looking for Manuella and when he finally realized he wasn't
ever going to find her, he just collapsed. Carla and I put him to
bed. She's upstairs with him now."

Ricky looked concerned. "Will he be alright?"

"I hope so. Young people seem to be pretty resilient. I think he just needs
time to get through all of this. I'll go with you and show you where Carlos
and his mother live. I'll let you do the talking, though."

"I have had people at the crash site trying to find anything, but the
wreckage was so scattered by the storm that there was little to find. I
have the same man who did Mama's funeral in charge of setting up the
memorial service. When do you think it should be?" asked Ricky.

"I phoned Bob's daughter and I doubt that she would be interested in coming
for it. Nathan is coming in the morning. I don't know who else from
Manuella's family might attend. We can ask her sister tomorrow. What about
Jose's family?"

Ricky shook his head sadly. "No they will not come. They stopped talking to
him when he was at university and became my lover. I called them and told
them what has happened, but even that did not soften their hearts."

"Then I guess we don't have to wait for a long time for people to get here,
so it should be soon. Are you sure you don't want to do this in San
Augustin? It is the Don's home, after all."

Ricky looked up at me with a sad smile on his handsome face. "Papa was born
in Santa Rosalia. He owed much land here as well. He moved himself to San
Augustin when he was a young man. Many of the people here knew him and held
him in high esteem."

I nodded my head in understanding. "Are you hungry? I made a few things to
eat. You and Carla and your driver may have anything you want. There are
plenty of rooms for everybody, too."

"No, gracias, mi amigo, but I am not hungry. I will just sit here for
awhile and then go to bed. You look like you could use some sleep yourself,
Ben."

I did feel dreadfully exhausted. "Yes I could. I am going up to check on
Berto and then I'll head out to my bed." I rose and gave Ricky a hug and
kissed his forehead. "Buenas Noches, my friend."

"Good night, Ben. We will take care of the details in the morning."

I trudged up the stairs and saw Carla sitting in a straight-backed chair
next to Berto's bed. She held his hand as he slept. It was a beautiful
scene and in happier circumstances I would have gotten my camera and
captured such a loving tender moment. It was plain to see that Carla loved
him. How could she not? I knew just how she felt.

I cleared my throat softly and she looked in my direction. "He seems to be
sleeping peacefully, now." She told me.

I leaned over and touched his thick, soft hair. "There is some food in the
kitchen for you and your driver. I am sorry, but don't know his name. And
rooms are ready for you as well."

Carla gave a small smile of appreciation. "Gracias, Ben. I am not hungry,
but I will see to Paco. Why don't you say good night to Berto and try to
get some sleep?"

"I will." I said and Carla left the room.

I looked down at the sweet angel boy-man on the bed. "Oh Berto," I
whispered. " I am so sorry you have been made to go through this. I promise
that I will make sure that you are taken care of. You'll finish school and
become happy and prosperous, just like Manuella wanted you to. And you will
never lack for love."

I ran my fingers through his hair, then bent to kiss his cheek. He had soft
stubble growing there and I felt it on my lips. He needed a shave. He also
needed a haircut, I noted. But all of that was unimportant at the moment. I
tucked the sheet around him and made my way to my studio.

I stripped of my clothes and let them just fall to the floor. I crawled
between the sheets and inhaled their fresh, clean scent. I wondered if I
could make them smell this way-the way that Manuella always did. I
remembered her chubby cheeked smile and the way she used to wail to beckon
Berto. A single tear slid down the bridge of my nose. I would miss her
terribly. I looked up at the starry sky through the large windows. "I'll
take care of him, Manuella. I promise." At some point, I just drifted off.

	I heard a hushed voice calling me. "Senor Ben, Senor Ben..." I
looked up and saw a tall, slender silhouette in the open doorway of the
studio. "Senor Ben?"

	"Berto?"

	"Si, it is me, Senor Ben. May I please sleep with you? I do not
want to sleep alone, tonight."

	"Of course, Berto. Come here." I lifted the sheets and he crawled
in beside me, turning on his side and rolling up into a near fetal
position. I wrapped my arms around him and he snuggled his back into my
chest.

	"What is to become of me, Senor Ben? Will I live with mi Tia and
Carlos?  What about university?"

	"The university is all taken care of. Bob made sure of it a long
time ago.  As for where you will live. That's up to you. You can stay here
with me if you want to."

	That seemed to satisfy him as he pulled my arm more tightly around
him.  We spoke no more that night, but later I could feel him softly
shaking and heard him sniff. I knew he was finally crying, working through
his grief.  I just held him and comforted has best I could. I fell asleep
with Berto in my arms.


I found I needed a period of "mourning" myself after the demise of some of
the story's characters.  That's why it took so long for me to
continue. Thanks for your loyalty. Much more to come.
  Please write to me at ben_sc@hotmail.com. If you haven't read any of my
other stories, check them out under the "Authors" link. Look for "Lyle
Benton".