Jesters in the King's Court

40” X 30” X 2.25”

Acrylic on Canvas

Here I am in art class sitting at a long row of tables. The assignment is to draw the person sitting directly across from you. So, I am busily sketching Lynnette, but I’m much more interested in the girl sitting next to her. Lynnette is nice and pretty, but there’s something about Andrea that sparks my interest. Her smile warms my heart like a lazy summer day.

Like a jester in the king’s court, I tell jokes and silly stories whenever I’m around her, so I can hear her intoxicating laughter. But immediately as I think she might be taken by these antics; the jokes and stories fade away. I’ve become insanely serious, as if love has cast a solemn spell upon me.

Over the next several weeks Andrea and I exchange notes. Before long the notes stop coming. Then one day, outside of class, Andrea hands me a note and walks away. This is typical for her these days. Sometimes I think she’s avoiding me on purpose. I eagerly open the letter, which is written in pencil on a sheet of ruled notebook paper and begin to read it. Soon my glowing, happy face turns to cloudy sadness.

If you’re mad at me for the way I’ve been treating you, I don’t blame you, because I know I’ve been treating you like dirt and I’m sorry.  I hope someday you forgive me. But I just don’t like you as much as I used to. You’ve changed. Do you remember when I said in that note that I had liked you for a long time? I liked you before you liked me. I could talk to you easily, and I had a lot of fun too. That’s the way I like you. Then when you started liking me, I was happier than I’ve ever been. Then I realized that you weren’t the same super fun person that I really liked. I don’t want you to get the idea that I hate you because I don’t, and I never will. I only wish you weren’t so serious and could still joke around a little because every time I talk to you, I mean try to talk to you I get nervous and start to not like talking to you. I don’t know why but you are the only boy I have trouble talking to. Please don’t hate me and I hope that someday it can work out for both of us, but I know you’ll never like me again after this, but I will always like you as a friend. Especially the way you were.

I fold up the note, put it in my pocket, and walk into the classroom. Once I was a jester in the king’s court, now I’m sitting in art class, staring at the floor, thinking about what a fool I was.