He’s been at it for some hours now, slowly, carefully placing one card, then the next. I don’t know where he picked it up but all I can do is sit back and stare, oh, and keep Areli and Lavi out of the way. They flung it all to the floor last time though he hadn’t made much progress. It miffed him but I couldn’t help the slight snicker and while he shot me a reproachful look, he still ended up smiling at me after a few moments.
I guess this is his project for the day and I admit it is rather a massive undertaking. It’s something to witness though. I don’t know how many decks of card he has on hand and I assume he bought those when he last went out because I’m pretty sure we haven’t had any cards in the house until today. We don’t play cards, now though, he’s building something and it’s big. He’s breathing slow and careful, his movements just the same.
At first he started his little project in the living room but he realized it was far from quiet enough so he took his cards into his room but he was out of there after five minutes. I assume not enough flat surface. Now he’s in one of the last unfurnished rooms of the first floor, near the back. It’s against two walls of windows and the view from there is just breath-taking. The door is closed but it’s one of those sliding glass doors since I think he was hoping to make this room into something of a sunroom.
I can hear him talking to himself just quietly, concentrating on what he’s doing. It’s half his height now and I leave him be for the time being. I’ll let him decide on when he wants to show me his pyramid-building skills. Most likely when he’s done. With that door closed and the lack of anything in that room, I’m sure that beyond his sneezing it all down, it will be fine and he’ll finish up his masterpiece. Not sure what he’ll do when he is done though. That’s for later.
I thought about taking the boys out for a walk since Quentin is busy but I’m not sure if it would be a good idea or not. It’s honestly wet outside and while I know these cats wouldn’t mind, they’d leave tracks inside once we’d be back. Yes, I do take these cats out on walks, I leash them up with a harness and they love discovering the land that surrounds them. I usually keep them to the oversized yard we have, most of it is badly overgrown and I know I’ll need to do something about it.
Probably call someone to help clear it up to a point. Leave the trees, those are fine where they are but there are weeds and stuff growing, some of it taller than I am and I know it’s probably dangerous to have the cats wander through there so I don’t. I’d like for them to have a play area outside, closed up from all sides but it would be theirs and they could discover what it’s like to be outside whenever they want. We could set up one of those swinging pet doors or something through one of the windows.
I’m not sure what to do with myself. It’s just pure and simple boredom but it’s raining outside and while I usually love being out there, today just doesn’t feel like a rain day. I don’t much feel like drawing. It seems to be one of these days. I could go and have a swim but the thought along brings heat to my cheeks. I can’t help but remember how he looked, absolutely bared to my eyes though I did my best not to stare, it was hard.
He went into the deeper end a bit faster than he expected and he sputtered. I panicked and I went after him. I suppose I might float better than him because he latched on to me, pressed up close and personal and somehow I managed to get us both back where we had footing. There is a slight flat area to the pool, it’s not too large but it’s there, just in the middle of the slope, with water about to my shoulders, nearly, a little lower.
I hear him scream in frustration and I head back towards the back room to check in on him. Half of his construction is on the ground. I guess that’s what we call a false move. Still, all he’s doing now is breathing. His eyes are closed and he’s drawing in air, holding it and letting it out slowly. Calming himself down. He’s not the type to give up on a project, even if it frustrates him though the end results tends to not be as nice as it could be when he gets to that point.
I just watch him a while, until he starts back on his masterpiece and I slip away as quietly as I’ve come. He doesn’t need me there and I might just prove to be a distraction more than anything else. Maybe I should bring out that painting I’ve started of him. It came to me one night while I was just on the edge of waking up. I don’t know why it runs so true but it does to me and I like the look of him in what I’ve drawn so far.
It’s like an olden time sort of time, the materials wrapped about him, the way he holds himself. It makes me think of those old portraits of royalty you see in museums. There’s his tail, lazing behind him, its tip just there, taunting. A few bits of jewellery on him because it felt the right thing to add. His hair is just a little longer than it is now, his skin is just as flawless as he is now and he’s just perfect in my eyes.
I haven’t actually started painting it, it’s all just a big faint sketch on the canvas but it’s there and I mostly work on it when he’s not about to see it. I want it to be a surprise for him and I’m not sure why. It’s just one of those gut feelings. So I mostly paint after I wake up and before he does. So maybe I’ll skip out on that and just try to sketch. I really don’t feel like it but I don’t know what else to do with myself. I’m not tired, I’m not energized, I just feel bleh and I don’t know what to do with myself.
So I do flop down on my bed with my sketchbook and before long I have myself two leg warmers just settled against me and I know I can almost feel at peace, almost feel good enough to stop feeling as bleh as I have. It must be the weather, or something I ate, or something something. I don’t know.
It’s a few hours later before I can hear him stepping back into the main area of our home, he’s bright-eyed and almost bouncy as he appears in my doorway and beckons me without even having to talk to me. I can’t help but feel like he could tell me to jump off a bridge and I somehow would do it. I guess I do have it pretty bad for him. It might be a bit unhealthy, honestly.
He walks me back towards the back room and he stops by the door. He doesn’t open it and I don’t blame him, the cats are with us and the masterpiece he’s done is majestic.
“I have no idea what prompted you to want to build that up but that is massive and just, wow, Quentin, it’s beautiful.” As beautiful as a pyramid made out of playing cards can be but it is, in the way I look at it. He looks pleased as can be, cheeks pink from the compliment and he shrugs.
I might never know what did pull him towards wanting to build that but, for the time being, it seems as though it’s staying where it is, the door close and locked until he decides he’s had enough of looking at it or until he decides on what he’s finally doing with this room. We’re in no rush, after all and life still goes on even if we don’t use all the rooms in our home.