Page 63 of Theo of Golden

“Theo, I appreciate that you’re such a sensitive man. You have a tender heart.”

“Not tender, Asher. Broken. My expertise in sadness is hard-earned. But I realize more and more that it is a gift. Living with sadness, accepting it, is easier than trying to pretend it isn’t there. It is another of life’s great mysteries that sadness and joy can coexist so compatibly with one another. In fact, I wonder if, on this side of heaven, either one can be complete without the other.”

“You don’t strike me as a sad man, Theo. If you are, you’re good at disguising it.”

As if to prove the truth of Asher’s observation, Theo grinned. The resident sparkle in his eyes rose to the surface. Gleamed.

“Thank you. I hope it’s true. There is no virtue in advertising one’s sadness. But there is no wisdom in denying it either. And there is the beautiful possibility that great love can grow out of sadness if it is well-tended. Sadness can make us bitter or wise. We get to choose.”

“So, I do portraits of sadness?” Asher muttered to himself. “Is that a compliment?”

Theo chuckled. “It is a very high compliment, young man. A very high compliment indeed. Perhaps I am mistaken but, at some point, if we are wise, we must all confront our sadness, our brokenness, our disappointment. I am quite certain that your portraits help some people, in a very tender and courteous way, to ask themselves, maybe for the first time, ‘Who is that person? What do I know to be true, really true, about that face?’… Asher, we are masters at masking our sadness, but deep down inside, if we are honest, we know that there is an unsatisfied longing deep inside all of us. Your portraits invite people to be alone and quiet and truthful with themselves; to admit the longing and to discover the goodness in their sadness. Maybe?”

Asher held his peace, oblivious to the presence of customers around him. Narrowed eyes and wrinkled brow expressed his keen concentration.

“Asher, please don’t misunderstand me. You don’t draw portraits of sadness; you draw portraits of people. Sadness is only one part. There is beauty and gladness and playfulness too. It’s all there. In elegant proportion.”

Theo directed Asher’s attention to the portrait of a forty-ish young woman on the wall directly in front of them. She was smiling. “Do you see it, Asher? There is something, mostly in her eyes, that hints at something other than happiness. Do you agree?”

Asher knew the woman in the frame. He also knew her painful story. “Theo, I wish I had an hour to talk about this more but I’ve got an appointment in just a few minutes. Let’s talk about this at the studio one day next week. But here’s a question before I go. What about the child? That one there?” Asher pointed to the beaming face of a young boy.

Theo looked. “OK. That one: no sadness. But draw him again in thirty years.”

CHAPTER 36

The relationships of Theo and Mr. Ponder as landlord/tenant, consultant/client, and confidant/confider remained steadfast during the Golden year. But after the first few weeks had passed, their status as peers and business associates evolved unmistakably into a friendship.

Theo was grateful for his younger acquaintances — Shep, Kendrick, Basil, Simone, Asher, even Lamisha — and was honored they had adopted him into their circle. But there was much about their world that he did not understand — technology, music, social media, virtual reality, digital everything. He was an old man and an old soul, out of step with the gadgetry and zeitgeist of the times.

Having one person, an almost-contemporary, with whom he could be unguarded, someone with whom he could speak freely about his past, a confederate and co-conspirator with whom he could quietly carry out his desire to be helpful, an intellectual equal with whom he could discuss a wide range of topics and questions, and a source of information from which he could learn about the city and its people — all meant that Theo often made the inconvenient walk from his apartment to Mr. Ponder’s office.

The current of respect and fondness ran in the other direction as well. From the start, Mr. Ponder opined that, in Theo, he had met a superior, a mentor, a rarity. His knowledge of the man’s background only affirmed that opinion. He was happy for any chance they might have to spend time together, and his small workload easily accommodated Theo’s spontaneous visits.

Mrs. Gidley had been instructed to allow those visits whenever possible. At first, she was not a fan of the arrangement. To her sense of propriety, there was something undignified about unscheduled, unannounced intrusions. But soon enough, she learned to bend the old protocols.

It might happen, for example, that Theo would walk into Mr. Ponder’s office, fresh from the Chalice, open book in hand, and ask Mrs. Gidley if he might have a minute with the consultant. Permission granted, he would walk to the second floor and enter the hallowed space thusly:

“Mr. Ponder, may I read something to you? I wonder what you think about this bit by Mr. Tolstoy.”

Or:

“James, can you explain about the farmers’ strike in India? I read about it in the Times this morning. Do you think their grievance is valid?”

Even when Mr. Ponder could offer no answer or insight to Theo’s questions, they enjoyed ‘good talk’ together if only for a handful of minutes.

As the friendship between the two men deepened, Mrs. Gidley detected a subtle but notable change in Mr. Ponder’s demeanor. He was still the serious, dignified man of business he had always been, but there were flashes of cheerfulness and energy that could only be attributed to the old man’s influence.

It was not unusual for Mr. Ponder to leave a magazine article, a newspaper story, or a book excerpt on the secretary’s desk with a note:

Please make a copy of this for Theo. We talked about this topic yesterday, and I think he might be interested in what this writer says about it.

Or a request:

Please remind Theo about the chamber orchestra concert on the 18th. Mention that they’ll be playing Copland.

Or:

Anita, please send flowers to Theo for his birthday next week. Maybe something native to Portugal. Arrange delivery with the florist.