....
Marcus had inherited a
sufficient amount of his line’s ‘desire to please’ to feel sad at his father’s
disappointment. Every time he touched
the traditional guitar, every time he touched paint to canvasere, every time he
put words together on the composer, he was aware of the waywardness of his
brain and emotions. He was in a chronic state of reining himself in and endured
a constant state of tension. He feared he would eventually succumb to suicide
like others of his kind. He was clearly a poor design. A misfire. What would
happen to him when he was fully grown? Would he be able to take on the duties
and privileges of his rank? What kind of women would accept someone like him
into a pair-bond?
Jonathan was the only one of his peers who understood,
Jonathan who had mastered the art of deception. Jonathan suspected he came from
a line of old actors, who could take on the characteristics of their
environment without difficulty and without compromising their inner selves.
Their behavior was just a cloak they donned for the occasion, and the
assimilation was seamless. This ability came so easily to Jonathan that he
tried to impart the skill to Marcus, without success. Marcus always knew he was
playing a part, donning a falsity.
“It’s not that hard, Jonathan would say. “Look—see that guy
over there? You’re him. Get into his skin. Feel the simplicity. It’s just a
surface layer. You don’t need to know anything else. Just stay at that level.
Feel on that level. Talk on that level. Play with it a little. Before you know it, you don’t even have to
think about it.”
“I can’t do it for more than a few minutes. It exhausts me.”
“Just keep practicing. Try it with different people. You’ll
get the hang”