Breaking the Surface

Breaking the Surface

Noel Laflin

9-8-14

Tom prepared well for his last months.  And although he had just celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday, he knew his days were literally numbered.  He only had eighty-nine, to be exact.

While he still had the energy, he built himself another world in which to escape the ravages of a young body rapidly deteriorating.  The final stages of AIDS had forced his hand into taking action.  But Tom was an artist – so he got to work.

When I saw his final creation, I had to lie down beside him on the narrow single mattress and marvel at the scene to either side of us. For a moment, I felt as if I were aboard the Submarine ride at Disneyland.  Brightly lit electric tetras, cichlids, darters and rainbow varieties swam in quiet procession below and among the waving strands of java fern and moneywort.  Beautifully colored snails and plecos slowly moved across the glass, keeping the view clean, clear and pristine.  Swordtail fronds stood on green tippy-toes in hopes of reaching the surface.   

The only thing missing were waving mermaids.

But this was no ride in Tomorrow Land.  Rather, it was Tom’s idea of creating the most peaceful setting by which to rest for the tomorrows; however few there might be.

And so, the boy had built his sanctuary in the following manner.  He put his small mattress – as Tom was small of stature and took up little space - upon its box spring directly in the middle of his tiny Ojai room.  To either side of his bed he place one-hundred gallon aquariums, butting up to the edges of the mattress.  Each large and narrow aquarium ran the length of the bed, supported by cinder blocks placed high enough so that the bottom of each tank was level with one's body stretched out fully.  The affect was such, that when you looked up and out and to either side, you felt like you were part of this enchanted underwater world.  The hum of the bubblers provided low white noise. The only lighting in the room was that which softly glowed from the tanks.  It was an aquatic heaven for the weary. 

There was a television, VCR, CD and tape cassette player placed at the foot of the bed, perfect for reclined viewing and listening.  A stack of favorite movies, books, tapes and CD’s were near at hand – along with a myriad of pills labeled with near-unpronounceable names.

I spent a warm September weekend with Tom, back in the fall of 1992.  He had enlisted my help with his garden.  Always preparing ahead, as witnessed by his indoor sanctuary, he worried about the ponds and plants out back. He no longer had the energy to attend to his garden. So, I spent two days rigging up automatic misters and soakers, ensuring that the garden could sustain itself on days that he could not leave the house.

My intention was to sleep upon the old couch, but Tom suggested that I lie beside him and take in the wonders and charm of his night-time aquatic view.  The fit was snug as I crawled into the shadowy cave-like dwelling.  But, the dreamy motion of waving plants and gliding fish was hypnotic and I soon succumbed to weariness.  I slept peacefully for the most part.  But the young friend beside me would venture in and out of reality, keeping one foot barely attached to this world while the other tested the firmness of a shore beyond my reckoning. 

Tom took final leave of us, in order to venture on to that other world, on the morning of Christmas Eve, some three months later.

I bet he grabbed the hand of an angelic-looking mermaid and made for the surface, where swordtail fronds basked in the light above.