The Drawer

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Hey, my name is Jessie and I would like to tell you about what happened in the past five years (in 2020). This happened in New York and by the time I hated my school art class and my dad was okay with me hating it. Once I remember, I woke up badly. It smelled like dead meat everywhere in my room. Looking over the room it looked like It hadn't been cleaned since the 1990s. The door was old, my roof had a problem so water kept coming from up. My room wasn’t the room you can wish for and the same applied to our house, it wasn’t the best but it was still good. That was because we were facing a lot of problems in our family, some financially and others were about my health. I was just not like any other teenagers in my city, some said I had the worst life but I made the best of it. That morning, I woke up, grabbed my bag, went down the house, and saw my dad and mom arguing. Now that's kind of strange and rare in families but in mine, it happens most of the time. They are always arguing that every time I see them they look like two thieves who are fighting for what they just stole. Good enough, they loved each other so I was cool with it. Going to school, I held the hand of my dad and he took me there every morning. He always slept working for a cleaning company night in order to raise more money and be able to pay for both my school fees and health problems. So Every time he grabbed my hand in the morning it felt like he spent his night playing with snow. Not to mention that his shoes were so wet that we had to clean them every time before going to school (especially in winter). He was a hard worker. That's one thing I knew about him. He also cared for people. He helped the needy with the little that he had. At home, he kept cooking a lot of food in order to give some of it to the needy but my mom disagreed with it so he had to hide it from her. It was a little bit right to do, but we also had nothing much to eat so I kind of agreed with my mom about it. My mom knew how to cook, her food tasted fine like ice cream compared to my dad’s. I liked it when my mom cooked. It looked like one of those special meals done by the big tv-shows cooking chefs. I was always on time for lunch and dinner when she cooked. Both my mom and dad liked old 90’s music. It sounded good for them, but horrible for me. It sounded like those songs played in horror movies. They kept trying to make me like it but they failed. I liked more hip-hop rap music, some like Polo g’s. It helped me when I was drawing and I would sometimes feel what he was saying in his songs. As I said my dad liked working, he worked hard as I said before and that was because money wasn’t his friend so he had to run after it every day. He really didn’t like my art so I had to show him the good side of it every day. He had no stable job because he kept changing hoping for a better salary. His heart is always accepting people no matter what condition they are in or what they are. He was loved by the neighborhood and was always the one chosen to lead the meetings. And when there was an activity to be done or if there was a problem, he would be the one in charge. Happiness never left him. He always had the joy on his face showing love and compassion which is why no one hated him apart from his last job’s people that he left. People were sick of seeing him changing jobs all the time. They called him Mr. Job. He did things on time though he had so much to do. Organized he wanted me to also be the same way and throw out my arts because they looked like dirtiness to him and useless. Once, I got sick due to the weather. I had to go inside a room because outside it was windy and it affected my vocal cords for a reason. Standing in the library I started drawing


thinking of what my vocals would be like in an image. I drew a kid that looked exactly like me holding his vocal cords in his hands and I realized I had a talent. Since then I have been drawing limitlessly. I put my feelings in the drawings. It was a passion and talent at the same time.

I had some health problems, and that was the only thing that kept mom and dad working all night to raise money for me to be able to go to India and get operated on to fix my vocal cords. My vocal cords are disorders, so I would lose my voice sometimes when speaking or start coughing. It seemed okay at first until the doctor told my parents that if it continues I might lose my voice and I may not be able to talk anymore.

It was hard for me to go through that especially because I was bullied at school due to sickness. A guy called David kept bullying me with his group which made me hate school. Sometimes they kept saying “ Hey Jessie, how are you, dear vocal boy” it made me angry but I had no other choice than to be strong and pass through that every time I am going to school. Every time I tried to search and talk to those people who experienced the same as me through bullying. I knew it was hard for them so I just wanted to say sorry to them and encourage them though I was also passing through it. Saying some kind and motivating words to them made me feel better every day because I also felt motivated by what I am saying. I always thought of building an anti-bullying campaign in case I get as rich as planned. Passing through schools, homes, hospitals, and every area of the city where there are students teaching them how bullying is bad and maybe it would reduce and children would try to fight it. At school, I was a quiet kid whom some took advantage of. I was almost as innocent as a born baby. I never wanted to see the bad side in someone even when it was totally viewable. I wanted to make everyone my friend so I kept thinking of only good things about them. Yes, they liked me and I had some friends, although some, like David, kept making fun of my health issues. My grandmother always told me I was the nicest kid she has ever seen and I shouldn’t hear what the world will tell me so I kept it off my mind. She told me if she had to choose another husband and choose the type she would choose my type. My mom taught me how to be kind and patient with others which I always did and everyone seemed to like it. One day I passed down the road. I saw a hungry man walking. It hurt me so much that I had to give him my food and drink water for the morning. He looked dirty full of dishes as if he entered a dustbin searching for food everywhere. I felt the pain in his eyes. It looked like some baby’s eyes requesting milk. I went over to him, sat, and started talking to him. He told me how he had a good life that turned out to be that bad due to a car accident that made him lose all his family members. After hearing all his story I gave him all I had including my week’s pocket money, it was so sad that I went thinking of it. I had to do work for other students in order to regain the money but I had no problem with that because I knew, I used the money for a good cause.


Talking about money, I had my art teacher who gave me money to buy candy every Saturday morning. He was a good guy though he was talkative he seemed nice. His name was Mr. Henry Dobbins. He seemed to like my drawings a lot though I hated the art class. He told my parents I had some potential so he asked them if he would be giving me some drawing classes at home which my dad did refuse to the financial status we were in and he didn’t believe my drawings would make sense to people or will give me some income to the family. He said, “ you keep drawing for absolutely no reason, you should be working on getting your true potential rather than drawing these things that do not exist”. After all, I kept drawing thinking of some things, places, people that do not exist just to hear my mom say it is nice but when I would check my daily drawing at night sometimes I thought of what my dad said and I believed it in some ways. I never wanted to give up on my drawing part so I kept drawing every time I thought of something. My mom liked my drawings so she secretly worked for a cleaning company 30 hours a week to be able to pay my art teacher. She believed one day she would pass by one of those galleries and museums and see my art hung up. She wanted me to pursue my dreams which were becoming one of the richest professional artists. I had some ideas of places that I would go sell my different art to. Some like one that I drew of two birds on a date on the Eiffel Tower eating ice cream, was supposed to be sold in Paris or in Italy once I become a professional artist. One of the other people that kept motivating me so hard was Mr.Henry, he kept telling me about how I will be the richest guy and how my house will look like. He liked my drawings a lot. He had this little shocked and happy face that made every time he saw my new drawings. He was amazed. He liked going with some of my good drawings every time he came home, something I never would understand. I kept asking him why, but he would always look down at my face, kneel, smile, hold my hand and say “ you are a talented boy, and one day, one day you will be the greatest artist in the country. I am taking your drawings just to make sure that they are in a safe place for you. In some years from now, these things will be having the same price as some Lamborghinis in the city.” I always was very motivated to draw more after hearing him. My mom liked when Mr. Dobbins was teaching me. I had to go to his home for lessons for dad to not notice and we always told him I am at a friend’s house which he didn’t care about since mom knew about the house. He smelled nice. He had some good perfume like one of those Paris men’s perfumes, my mom would joke sometimes telling me to get some smelling lessons too. I loved art, it was a passion, love, and the world to me. It was the only thing that made me express myself freely. I remember this one time my dad refused me to draw for the weekend and told me to go do some other important stuff that will bring income. The night he told me that I drew a kid trying to enter a colorful world but his leg is stuck in a net. It expressed my world ( my passion for drawing) and how my dad held me from it. The world had this more colorful side behind it and the net was from the other side of it. What I meant by that drawing is that if I was to enter that world that was drawing and get deeper inside it. I would reach the good side( brighter side). The brighter side would be the side at which I am a professional artist and am rich and there are no financial issues or health problems. That is what I meant by bright. It seemed like a normal


drawing to people but I saw something different from it. My mom understood it and was very surprised and impressed by the creativity behind it. The only bad thing was that there was something holding me back ( my dad). That made my mom feel bad for me after I drew that, but after all, it was fine for me. I mean yes I felt the pain before but all that pain went into that drawing, I feel better every time I draw what I am feeling and bring it up to my face. I see what the pain means to me in an artistic way and that is what art meant to me(being able to express yourself into art) that was real art. On the other side in order for me to get some real touching art I needed to feel pain, I needed hate, disappointment, and many other things. I just needed to feel bad and express it in the drawings, they were like my best friend. The only thing that I wouldn’t leave and wouldn’t in any case. Art is me, I am art. As I said before I hated my art class, I hated the way they wanted me to draw what they wanted when I am not feeling it. On the other side, I knew the art class was very helpful for me if I wanted to be an artist. Once my mom had to go work a few more hours for the cleaning company to cover up her friends and we delayed to reach my class. My mom was very stressed about taking the time of Mr. Dobbins. She kept thinking of how he was waiting for us and she was so pissed about it she even didn’t allow me to get a drink on our way to class. Arriving at Mr. Dobbin’s house we found his front door opened which was weird. His door had white drawings of animations, he was a fan of naruto so it had some of his drawings around it. His house was a white good looking house. He really loved white. The room we used to study from smelled well as if he kept spraying the room 24/7 entering the room I smelled some other perfume type. I stepped on the brown carpet that was in front of the room we studied from and heard him talking to someone else. I waited outside the room for my mom to come so that we would enter and talk to him. Entering the room we were surprised by what he was doing. He had some of my drawings in his hand and was selling them to a gallery owner from London. When we asked the gallery owner he said he was giving it out for around five thousand dollars. Surprised, my mom held my hands and told me we should go. Mr. Dobbins gently made a smile towards my mom, kind of disrespectful. My mom got mad, turned three steps and approached him and slapped him hard in his face, and said “ You should be ashamed”. At that time I was so confused about what just happened in the room, not like I didn’t get what happened but I never thought of such. Going back to when we entered the room my mom screamed “Dobbins” you would see the shock, hate in her eyes. I looked at my mom first waiting to see what she would tell Mr. Dobbins. I remembered all his motivation and all the good acts that he did for me and it wasn’t clear. “Mr. Dobbin?” I asked myself.

We stepped out of the room. On the stairs, there was this white new carpet that my mom gave Mr. Dobbins for his birthday. My mom took it and threw it outside and screamed “you don’t even deserve this”. We entered my mom’s car and it was so cold I felt myself freezing. The weather and what just happened weren’t matching that day. I felt anger, hate, and many other things for Mr. Dobbins.


After entering the car it took us around 30 minutes to get home due to the traffic. Reaching home we found my dad sitting in the sitting room, he had this red old looking chair that he liked to sit on every time he is from work. He was reading a 1980 newspaper which was weird and that bad smell in my house that I was used to in my house was disgusting that day. In fact, everything was wrong to me. I just needed to sleep or draw, just anything that would help me relax and chill my emotions. My dad saw my mom entering the house crying and me who ran into my room at the exact time we entered. It was weird for him, he was wondering what happened. We had these mouses on the roof of a house, I entered my room, started drawing and I heard them moving which disturbed me, I stood up gently, breathed 3 times and threw the drawing up to them and started kicking everything in my room. This was all to chill my anger. My dad came in, stopped me with his hands, and told me “what is wrong Jessie?” Who bullied you? Tell me what happened”. I cried and hugged him hard but still wouldn’t tell him. I never wanted him to scream up to mom after what just happened. He went down running on the silver stairs and asked mom what happened. I went out of my room to see what my mom would say. After dad reached in front of mom he asked what was wrong with all of us. Mom looked straight into his face, gave me a look that said something like go. It was like a warning look, she looked at me first (straight in my eyes) then turned her eyes left looking at the green door behind me that used to pass from to reach his job earlier. In my head, I said it was time to fight my dad and tell him what he is doing right and bad. On the other side, I knew he would be angry, angry because we never told him about my art class with Mr. dobbins. After a lot of thinking about what I should do, I decided to go up to my room and watch what is happening from there. Stepping on the carpet I saw my mom telling dad to take a seat. She then told her about my art class with Mr. Dobbins. After a moment of silence hit in the sitting room. My mom expected my dad to be mad, she was confused about what just happened since he kept quiet. Dad then stood up and told mom “ you should’ve told me if Jessie has something he wants that much here for him, not like am a demon or his dream fighter, am the dad”. Mom then knelt in tears and told him “ I thought you would be against it, and that would be sad for Jessie so I just had to work hard to pay extra for his art class. It was hard, yes! But that is what he likes and I would die for him to get up to his joy”. Mom and dad had much to say. I had to go off the room and they would come and talk to me once it was fixed. I was scared about what dad might tell mom. A moment later dad knocked on my door and told me “get out Jessie, time to fight for your dreams”. After hearing that I made a soft smile, it was like the world just Turned on my side. Normally I never expected dad to tell me such a motivating sentence about my dream he always thought I was for something else. Yes, he did believe in me, but not in my art. I stood up, made three steps towards my room’s main door which was an old door. I opened the door and then heard the mouses on the roof making a crazy noise. My dad made one step and hugged me and said “even the mice are celebrating” we all laughed with my mom and that was one of my favorite moments from the year. Looking straight into the eyes of my father I saw another person, the drawing that I had made about him become unclear. It seems like now believes in me. For a moment he reminded me of Mr. Dobbins when he would motivate me to draw more, but I decided to not think about it and stand as a man in front of him. Speaking of fighting


him, my mom said gently and softly while crying “ what should we do now” dad replied bringing her straight into his arms while looking at me “it’s time for justice”. We went into the sitting room and my dad started calling Uncle Joe ( the lawyer ) and told him about it. Uncle Joe was pissed off by the story that he came home the next day with a judge for my dad to make a deposit and that was the time we started fighting Mr. Dobbins. Entering the house they came dressed professionally, driving in a nice black range rover. They looked like two agents from the secret services, all in white with some ray band’s glasses, my dad was annoyed by that. The other problem about this fight was that Mr. Dobbins had the money required to fight us but we had nothing. When my dad was signing the contract they asked him to pay for the deposit but he had no money. He looked straight into uncle Joe's uncle, looking like he needed help. Uncle Joe made a soft cough and told the judge he would pay for that. Mom smiled softly again, it was good to see those smiles in my family. We were about to go through something big but we were all together and that is what mattered. On the other side, we all were scared. None of us showed the fear physically but it was a little bit off into the eyes of everyone. I would sit towards the window that has a view down the streets, see the kids playing and I wanted to be like them ( be free to live without any struggle). It was then that I made some fake imaginations about the courtroom, I thought of it as red and dark like in horror movies but there was no monster, Mr. Dobbins was the monster and the judge supported the monster. It was all about him winning. No image of me winning in my head all was flue and scary, I even dreamt about it. The judge then read the deposit and said “ Once we have the order to check Mr Dobbin's house we will inform you what we found there but other than that we will all meet in five days in the courtroom on Monday.” everything then became scary. I looked up to my dad and he seemed like a lost man in his thoughts. He became an overthinker that day, but we couldn’t tell cause we all were the same. Scared to fight, but the family joy kept us motivated. Five days later it was a sunny morning Uncle Joe came to pick us up in his good looking black range rover. Stepping in the car, it smelt like a new car with perfume everywhere. Around the sits, it had some snacks to it and the sits were made in pure leather. I would feel it when touching it. It felt good to slide my hand on and worm. We drove up to the courtroom and stopped by the front gate. Getting out of the car my mom was dressed like an Indian, good looking with a good smile and a chain that my dad offered her on her birthday. But behind the smile, you would see some sort of fear which was the same for my dad and me. My dad was also dressing gently, a full black suit and some sunglasses that he bought from a grocery store. He was looking like a spy. Overall, he was smelling good. I don’t know which type of perfume he used that morning but it surely worked. On the other side, uncle Joe was looking serious, no fear in his eyes and no pity. He looked like he was going for a war, I guess that is how he is supposed to be standing for his job. He was also dressed well, almost the same as my dad but his suit was blue and his glasses were expensive and were shining more. We all took one step out of the car and waited for the court to open. The black suit my dad had was not really fit for that day since it was sunny. The sun was hitting


both him and me. My dad then went to a nearby house to get some refreshment. The judge did not take that much time to arrive but according to how the stress we were it took an eternity. The jury finally came and at the same time, Mr. Dobbins was coming after him. In his good looking black ferrari. We had to enter the court. My mom first hugged me tight while crying and said “don’t worry this one is ours”. My mom seemed like she was nervous so my dad pulled her back and said “ don’t fear him, he is just some criminal ass hiding behind his personality” We entered the court all good looking, it had like a thousand lights in it. I had never seen something like that before, it was new for me. It smelled like brand new clothes everywhere, that smell that you want to keep smelling till the day ends. It was just amazing. Walking on the red carpets, It felt like I just landed in one of those celebrities shows. I walked slowly smiling holding my mom as if there was a cameraman recording me. It was all good but we weren’t that many in the court. On the other side It was all fresh as if we are the first people that stepped in it since it was built. I reached my chair and took my seat. On my side I only had some family members that came to support me including Uncle Joe's kids. Looking on Mr.Dobbins side he had some great artists that came to support him including some gallery owners and art managers. He also had some journalists recording him. His lawyer though looked old and somehow confused. When I asked my dad he told me he was the best lawyer in the city he then slowed down his voice and told Uncle Joe “Look who is there” Uncle joe made a soft serious look towards the place where my dad’s finger was and responded “I know” he looked back and said again “we are fucked up” at that time my dad then looked up to me and made a soft smile, he thought I never heard his conversation with Uncle Joe. The jury then hit his small wooden hammer and said time to start. Uncle Joe and Mr. Dobbin’s lawyer who was apparently called David Bievenu stood up and joined the front part. The lawyer talked about the laws and what should be done in the court some like no one should speak unless given the order. He then asked Uncle Joe what he was accusing Mr.Dobbins for. Uncle Joe took a serious look at the jury and said “ This man standing here is a thief, a traitor and many more that you can’t think of him.” He then took a deep breath and talked about the whole story about how me and my mom caught him selling my art, the jury then stopped him and said who was he selling his art to? Uncle Joe a little bit confused said “ They don’t know the name sir, the just saw his face and due to the shock and hate they left as earlier as possible to go and think about it” Mr. Dobbins then asked to talk and the lawyer gently allowed him to speak, he stood up and then said “I was selling one of my own arts that day, the boy and the mom entered and ran away. It was strange because I didn’t know why. As a matter of fact the mom assaulted me,slash, slapped me and went on crying. It was a very strange day I can say.” My mom angry as she was she stood up crying and insulting Mr. Dobbins, she told him “ You are an asshole, you out here stealing from kids calling yourself an art teacher when you cannot even draw.”


Thinking of how my mom liked Mr. Dobbins and how she just insulted him just became strange to me. It seemed like I was in the middle of the war and I have to fight it all alone with my family. Back to when my mom was insulting Mr. Dobbin, the jury stood up tapped once on his table and said “quiet madame, you are making things worse. As we can all see you even have anger issues, we are here in the court to solve the issue not fight for it.” Mom then looked innocent cleaned up her tears and Uncle Joe took his time to speak and said to Mr. Dobbins “do you have any proof of this woman here slapping you?” Mr. Dobbins gently smiling took off one of his memory cards that were in his pocket, normally as I knew him he never used to carry any memory cards so I knew something was wrong. Mr. Dobbins stood up, went and put his memory card in his laptop and turned it to the jury and said “Here it is.” At that moment most of my family members become worried looking at mom. She was eye open to the laptop same as dad but Uncle Joe looked a little bit shy. Mr.Dobbins played the video and moved away to talk to his lawyer who was laughing at us. The jury then asked my mom if she remembers doing that and she said “yes I do sir, but…” The jury then answered her but what? Mom looked up to Uncle Joe who knocked his head and she said “nothing, I did it.” The whole courtroom screamed “ooooooooh” they said. Some even started whispering about my mom and our family and then the jury stood up and said again “ silence” he took his seat and said “bring in the drawing” two police officers entered while they are carrying one of the drawings I had given Mr. Dobbins and put it in front of the court. The jury said to me, ``Do you recognise it and I answered loudly and confidently “yes, sir.” He then repeated the same thing to Mr.Dobbins who answered the same way as I and added “Where did you get it? Who were you selling it to?and how can I be sure of that?” Mr. Dobbins said “ I drew that drawing last December (2019) and I have my signature on it. I was selling it to Mr. Put who was going to expose it both in Paris and London. I was with my own dear lawyer here when drawing it at a macdonald restaurant and here are the receipts of our dinner as two hat day.” Confusing as I was everyone started believing in Mr. Dobbins, it was like he had planned everything and the battle was already his even Uncle Joe turned up to us and said “ are you sure that is your drawing?” I said yes and the jury requested sometime to confirm all that Mr. Dobbins said. At the time he came back he said to jessie’s family “we are sorry to announce that this drawing was never drawn by jessie, we don’t have any proof from you but as Mr. Dobbins stands today and he had all the required proof to show that this drawing is his”. It was sad, we walked away in tears after hearing that , all this meant nothing, the part of Uncle Joe paying and his money that went for nothing. And I had to change my art class but not even sure if dad might allow it after all this. I looked up to mom walking slowly out with Uncle Joe but never so dad, turning back so dad screaming to the jury.


Dad was saying “ My kid had a dream, a goal to reach with his art and even his health and wealth problems never stopped him in this. His goal was to achieve it. I never really believed in him until I heard his drawings can be stolen and given out by an art guy to take it to london or whatever.” he cried and said to the jury “ you will let this end here and you are letting a criminal free and killing the dream of a kid. My boy is talented and I am sure he can prove all this to you” he knelt and said give him a chance. Jury talked to the people around him and decided to put his documents back. He coughed and said “ the kid has 30 minutes to draw this.” Dad slapped my back, pushed me and gave me a pencil box that I don’t know how he got it. I sat and started drawing. Putting my pencil on the paper I was drawing gently, while drawing many things came up to my mind. It was a dream to have the audience but no in the court rather on a stage. I cleared my mind and said to myself this was the moment I was waiting for “ to prove it.” While drawing I felt the pain, the pain from seeing my dad crying for the first time, the pain for seeing him believe in me. The pain of my life, the life I have been going through. All those people that use to bull me and slap me came in my head that day, I was drawing slowly, not fast enough to finish I heard my dad screaming but I was out of the world. Is it about my talent, dream, tears, pain, life, goal, nothing at all. We all set sometime free to think about the world when things get hard but things always go back as to how they were before. What is the matter of drawing if I am going back in that miserable house room. What is the matter of struggling in life to get a pool that you will not even swim in? What is the matter? I took a small look at my family while they were screaming at me to hurry up and everything looked like it was in slow motion. I saw my mom motivating me in tears, something that I have never seen before. That day, that specific time I understood what was the matter. It wasn’t about being rich but making it for your family. The money,fame and everything that I wanted would be nothing to me without them. I don’t want a big house for myself. I want my mom to rest in a big house that can peacefully set her free of the world and hard times. I don’t want to see those tears, pain in my family. I want a life, just like others. I don’t want to try to live but I want to live. The 30 minutes then came down with my eyes closed. I had done a copy of the exact drawing. In my drawing there was an eye that I used to put in, the eye meant “ see closer” this would tell me that if anyone saw my art I would know if he really admired it and took time to watch it. It was an eye for an eye. You see the art the artist sees you through it. The jury then bought an art/drawing inspector. He checked on the drawings and said “it is the same” that sentence remained in my head and I can’t even remove it, it was wonderful to hear. The inspector then asked Mr. Dobbins said something that he drew in the drawing that was hidden and as confused as he was he laughed saying “nothing”.


The jury asked the inspector to judge and say whose drawing. The inspector stood up and said “I have never seen a talent in my life,there is something, something hidden in this art, it is called eye for an eye, the person who sees the drawing sees the artist’s work and the artist sees him though it. This kid here, talented as he is the owner of the drawing. He knows what was in the other one that made it special and he used it in this one. Only the artist who drew the drawing is the one who knows where his eye for eye is unless you check two of his same drawing because they form a full eye together. The kid standing here is ​The Drawer. His​art is poured on this paper, thousands of drawings I have seen before. Here is my favorite drawing.” The jury took his seat and ended up with a conclusion of Mr. Dobbins paying a bill of a million dollars to my father and both him and the person he was selling it too had 3 years of prison for lying in the court. Getting out that room, days and days after that felt better. I was in the most famous articles and any of my drawings was being sold for above a million dollars. Most people called ​The drawer​/ the kid whose art drowned in the courtroom It was good to feel the feeling of achievement, seeing the people that you love laughing and happy, offering them what they want and fulfilling their needs. My mom, dad got a new house on the beach, they decided to stay in westbrook, connecticut. I was still in the city. I had to continue my work and make sure my art is being given at a good price. I had to go back to India and get the operation. It was a good ending in my worst year. But that was just a year, there is still more to come from my life. I am the drawer, the kid with a dream.


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