A   MAGNUM OPUS

It was a cold Sunday morning in Connecticut, 2007, 20th December. The soft pink couch placed at the angular nook near the fireplace looked inviting. Preparing a cup of hot sizzling coffee, I sank into it with a thin wrap covering my icy feet. The aromatic black coffee lifted me on an inspirational journey into another world. It was then my eyes leisurely fell upon the large family portrait hung in the centre of the wall above the fireplace. Strew my husband in a white flannel shirt, me in a red pullover and pants; and my one-year-old son, Albrett, clinging to me like a baby monkey.  For a moment it captivated me; taking me away in time and space; stimulating a bunch of memories, many pleasant and a few disturbing.

Stirred emotionally, my thoughts raced to those moments that fervently touched my heart time and again. At sixty-eight, I was not all healthy and good. Before I lost myself to the complexities of age and disease, I decided to capture those special moments in white and black.   

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               It is about my son, Albrett; a sparkle lit my lustreless eyes as my lips uttered his name.  Like the fresh smell of lemongrass, a few reminiscences shot afresh from the capsule of my ageing mind.

After a long pause of twenty years, I sat at my desktop to put them down verbally. To recapture a few of them, I cruised into the realms of my ripened memory strands; it took me back to the most important day of my life, when I first felt the presence of Albrett, in my arid life.  I was pregnant! It finally had happened after a traumatic wait of ten solid years!

I still remember every bit of that day distinctly. It was a Sunday. As I tried to roll over on the bed, I felt Strew’s strong hands around my waist.  Delicately he turned me, caressing the part that saddled our child; a typical mix of Strew Fleming and me, Andrea Fleming. His loving touch over my inconspicuous bulge filled me with boundless joy. I hugged Strew passionately; glittering tears cascaded down my cheeks in a free fall.  I wept, I laughed; each overlapped the other in a strange, unusual manner; the experience amazed me!

The joy of becoming a mother, a wholesomeness I had never known.

Albrett made my onward journey to motherhood a beautiful experience. The surprise kicking in my abdomen sack, at times harsh and at times soft would leave me awake the whole night.  Lying close to Strew, his hot breath upon my upturned face, I envisaged my child in the canvas of my mind; just like an amateur painter, every stroke thoughtfully made.

The most awaited moment arrived. I was wheeled to the emergency. Bouts of pain left me breathless and pale. White coats flocked me, a few doctors, and residents.   I freaked at the beginning, but my anxiety to see my child surpassed all.  I screamed I wriggled; each spasm virtually made me feel my baby’s endeavour to exit.  The last big push did it. The room echoed with musical cries; it flooded me with new magical vigour.

“It’s a boy!” The words amplified my ecstasy.  I looked at Strew, contentment writ large upon my pale face. He smiled; he bent close, his hands gently parting my dishevelled hair fringing my narrow forehead.  A light kiss upon my parched lips said it all.

I waited drowsily to see my baby’s first glimpse; to feel its softness against my skin.  After a hard fifteen minutes wait, the nurse placed him next to me.  I observed mesmerised; its half-closed eyes, its tiny palms and feet delicately crafted, epitomizing innocence, all strung into a single braid of pure magical completeness.

Henceforth every moment became blissful. We christened him Albrett; his name became our heartthrob; his smile our breath.

 It was Albrett’s 8th birthday. It was August 24th. The next day was Albrett’s birthday. Elaborate preparations for the party kept us busy. Blue coloured balloons hung freely from the entrance to the hall. Albrett stood in the centre watching them distastefully.

“Do you like them? Call your friends for the party tomorrow.”

His high-pitched reply stopped me midway.  “No, I don’t like the blues, I love pinks.” He ran away to get his favourite toy, the speaking Barbie doll.”     

Perturbed by his answer I continued with the arrangement.  Floral decorations, conical feathered hats, and flashy goggles in a tray made it complete. Holding the last chocolate tray in my hand, I unconsciously kept arranging and rearranging them; Albrette’s last words kept rebounding.

Strew, a busy cop hardly had time for family. He worked in a Crime branch in New York. Putting it straight, Strew was never there for Albrett, and Albrett missed him a lot.

Albrett from childhood had a great fancy for mimicry. He sat glued watching mimicry shows on the T.V. He loved imitating female characters only.

Unwillingly I worried about his likes and dislikes. His flair for sissy stuff made him vulnerable to daily bullying.  He never gravitated towards machine guns and monster tricks; was always oriented towards baby dolls. Yet I never curbed his fancy for girlie stuff; I assumed it to be a kid’s privilege. 

From the age of twelve, Albrett recognized there was a distinctive difference between himself and his buddies at school. “I feel different,” he kept saying this to himself. In early school, he slackened in his studies.  With my constant support, he soon grew up into a confident child like any of his other friends.

In his teens, surprisingly he never had a single girlfriend, unlike his classmates.  He kept thinking, “I am not like my friends? Why are my likes, my priorities different? I do not crave the fun they have with girls. I have an attraction for boys!” The growing phase posed Albrett with many unanswered questions. It was rather quizzical. But he never shared his feelings.

Soon he graduated and was a teaching professor in an eminent University. He had position, looks, money anything that one could aspire to in life. But an unseen vacuum slowly nibbled him from within; the dumbness of being different; of feeling different. 

He soon realized that he walked, talked, looked, and acted like any straight guy you see out there, probably even more masculine than most of them; but he had no special girlfriend. He found his sexual attraction was with the same sex. He was a straight man stuck in a gay man’s body. This took him on an emotional roller coaster every time he thought of it.  He needed time to accept himself; to understand his feelings in a macro way. He hated living a double standard life; it proved cancerous, damaging his very existence.

Slowly he withdrew from me; I felt something was wrong.

I never expected anything serious, still, my concern grew as a mother. I expected Albrett to talk to me someday. I waited, each day dying down, and a new day born.

It was a weekend. The biting cold was a perfect mismatch for a swim, yet Albrett dashed to take a plunge into the freezing waters.  Seizing the opportunity, I hooked to his computer to peek through his emails. I had seen him browsing the net for hours together. Fishing through his mails, I got hold of one which was rather strange. It read as, “Waiting at the apartment, missing all the love play!”  The signature read as, “David Speck,” typed at the bottom side. The mail left me confused; it made no sense to me. I was intrigued to know more.

I stood contemplating; the heavy breathing from behind made me swirl around.  Albrett stood perspiring badly; the pool water failed to conceal the beads of sweat upon his tightened forehead.  I stood stock-still; my gaze held him, anticipating an explanation.

His eyes hard, stoic held mine; “I am gay! I am in a relationship with David,” he blurted with no reservations.  

For a moment I felt I heard him wrong. “Come again, I misheard you.”

“Yes, you heard it right, I am gay!” he said enunciating his statement

I looked at him for a second passively, but I felt my insides exploding. I felt my world tumbling. Quickly, in the pretext of more light, I walked away from him to pull the window strings. I never wanted Albrett to read the chaos on my face. I stood there, my back facing Albrett trying to stabilize myself. The revelation sucked me; I gasped; I held the dark crimson drapes struggling to stay on my feet. Bitterly digesting every word, he spoke, I felt nauseated.  It felt like I was lying on a thorny cactus, a million spikes poking into me. My palpitations mounted rapidly; I felt I would collapse.

“No panic,” cautioned my sixth sense, “Albrett needs you now.” Slowly, my jittery nerves calmed down as I counted from ten to one.  I tried pulling myself together.

“Mum, are you O.K.?” His question startled me.

The concern in his voice helped me to turn around. “Yes, I am fine, my boy.” Luckily my voice had no tremors and jitters.

Slowly reaching him, I took his strong hands into mine; I pressed them reassuringly. A pulse of understanding connected us.

“Are you sure Albrett?” I waited for his answer hoping he wouldn’t repeat the same. He only smiled; a smile that carried more woe than when expressed. His untold answer told me all. Trying to sound positive I said softly, “It’s fine Albrett!  It just needs a bit of understanding.” My made up talks had no impact upon him.

Holding me close, his voice husky, he whispered, “Do not get worked up mum; there is nothing to be undone,” his drawling accent confused me. Placing his strong hands upon my small skinny shoulders, looking straight into my stark painful eyes, “I am fine; I need some time to work on it,” he whispered softly.

His calmness baffled me. Like the stillness after a destructive storm, he walked away tugging his hands in his front pockets; his thin dry lips humming one of his favourites.

With heavy steps, I slowly made my way to the bedroom; I broke down as I closed the door behind. I threw myself on the bed burying my face into the pillow. I wept till no more tears escaped my puffed eyes; I yelled; I cursed my stars. After a stormy outbreak, there was just silence except for my uneven breathing. I decided that I would realign Albrett’s life.

After a week’s labour, I finally chanced to read an article on Joseph Nicolosi, a renowned clinical psychiatrist, popular in restructuring such lives. But would Albrett like that?

Gathering courage, finally, after a fortnight, I briefed Albrett about Joseph Nicolosi. Hearing me out, his eyes thinned, his lips curved ironically as he said, “So he has got a pill and a therapy to make me straight. Talking about myself in a therapist’s office will not stop me from sleeping with guys.”

Cautiously I continued, “Albrett; every person needs a family.”  I stopped uttering no more; his cynical look had its say. 

Agitated by my talks, he paced up and down.   Overwhelmed as if losing control of himself, he walked away fuming, clenching his jaws uncontrollable.

For the next few days, Albrett lived in seclusion. He felt rejected, his mood swings kept increasing; his appetite and sleep remained low; in short, a total mess. Before pangs of depression devoured him harshly, Albrett decided to get away from everyone. Call it cowardice or an act of escape, it did not matter. He decided to get away to Skopelos, an island in the Aegean.

The day before he left, Albrett approached me balanced and calm. Clasping my palms tightly he asserted, “Trust me, dear, I can deal with it. I promise things shall be fine.”  

Not a word more spoken, Albrett left.  Albrett took a flight to Charlotte, North Carolina and then transferred to a flight to Munich, before catching a relatively short flight to Athens in Greece.        

Landing at the Athens international airport, Albrett took a bus, the Flying Dolphin, connected with the hydrofoil to reach his destination.  It took almost 8 hours to reach the place via Konstantinos.

Skopelos maintained a refreshing authenticity; its unspoilt island life, the unpretentious food, quiet beaches, walks through green, all stood a perfect answer to his harassed mind. Taking a small holiday villa, Albrett settled himself at the new place. Breathtaking views of the sprawling pine forests and olive groves reaching down to the sea was worth anything.

The dreamy island, a Greek paradise had everything; the small, coloured pebbles on the beaches looked like gems from a genie’s bottle. One could either get comfortable on a sun lounger, sipping an iced drink with your favourite book in your hand or you can prefer to get away and relax on a single tiny sandy cove lapped by the turquoise sea shared just by a few seagulls. The harbour front seemed the best place to sit back, relax and let the world go by whilst enjoying a drink.

With the freedom to cruise, he spent his time alone here seeking solace, seeking answers.  He wanted to live the life God had chosen for him. He had no complaints; he accepted himself with no resignation; but a false show to the world, to act differently shattered him. After a couple of days, he felt refuelled here.

In this tranquillity, Albrett tried to decode himself; the link to live purposefully, to deliver freely. He compared himself to the bounty nature around. For the first time, he realised nature’s magnanimity; its independence. The sparkling waters inhabiting the vast aquatic life selflessly; the mountain ranges weathered by cold and heat yet standing firm; the weeds and grass growing with dogged determination; none of these was ready to stop; each diligently performing their task unconcerned of the world around; with independence that was marvelling. These channelled messages in a different frequency.

Albrett felt liberated here; unconditionally he became a part of the unruffled nature; he learnt immensely by being a part of it; the green valleys, its pine-covered mountains, the salty breezes and the extraordinary crystal waters all pacified his agonised mind.

In this seclusion, Albrett discovered the pervading truth; the truth that eluded him.  He heard his inner voice, “Each of us stand designed for a purpose. God has created you different from others.  You are special; respect his creation. You can do much more than others. The energy within you is abundant; direct your energies in the right way. To make this happen, your inner peace, your inner wellbeing is very essential.”

Albrett’s battered mind now synchronised with the spoken truth. He perceived he was on the right path; this eased him and helped him to move ahead.

These thoughts firmly crystallised, Albrett returned home with a different outlook, a definite purpose. His new outlook pacified the unspoken fears of the Flemings. His dynamic approach to life infused hope in them.

 Albrett set ahead with a definite goal. His passion for mimicry soon became his purpose. He spent the next six months mastering the age-old art under a master who was proficient in it. He learnt from his master that, “the art is double fold; an imitation of the manner of people’s speaking and a reproduction of gestures, of the concerned persons.” Synchronization of both was what he taught Albrett.

With this in his pocket, Albrett organized his shows. The money from these shows was spent on the upbringing of homeless kids.  In his free time, Albrett gave many theatre performances; they were astounded and greatly appreciated. His mimicry carried a fine flavour of humour and subtle art of expertise. His performances attracted huge crowds. He came to the social front as a versatile performer.

Albrett found perpetual joy in offering free entertainment to patients in hospitals, children in particular. Their joy moved him to tears. His own life, its lapses disappeared like the receding waves in an ocean; it condensed to a speck, insignificant amidst the beautiful creation. He idealised that one cannot stop the waves in the ocean of life, but one can learn to ride them and be triumphant.

He had a chance to perform at the Grammy Awards. His show won a lot of applause.  It was here that evening before the large audience Albrett proclaimed openly, “I am here to share a few secrets with you. Well, I am gay and I have nothing to hide, I am who I am. One day I felt I had nothing to give myself and those I loved. But I stand different today; the divine joy of giving and sharing.”

He stopped his eyes looking beyond as if assimilating his underlying emotions.  When he spoke his grave voice abruptly silenced the intrigued audience, “Being gay has given me a deeper understanding of what it is to be in the minority.  It has been uncomfortable at times, but it has given me the confidence to be myself, to follow my path and to rise above bigotry and polygamy. It has given me the skin of a rhinoceros when dealing with the world at large. It is a part of social progress to understand that a person is not defined only by one’s sexuality or gender but one’s integrity and achievements. “

Albrett made his last statement to the still audience, a question that always bothered him, “What have I done for others? This question has challenged me several times. I realized that by being within the shell, I tend to lose out on many matters. This has led me apart, standing before you as a renowned artist.  I am doing my part however small, to help others. My explicit talk here is for people who are struggling to come to terms with themselves and to recognize and appropriately advocate their hidden energies.”

He concluded by saying, “It is we who can pave a sunlit path towards better living, better understanding and better sharing, brick by brick. This is my first brick.”

The proceeds so collected from his shows is till today apportioned to a trust, called “Albrett Child Foundation” for the well being of the children around the world.

I am proud to say that my son shows no signs of slowing down in his quest to raise funds for homeless children by sharing his incredible mimicry with the world. His enterprising spirit has become a model to many of the minority groups in America.  His realization at Skopelos wove his future intricately into a masterpiece of humanity, love and sacrifice; he is indeed a magnum opus of the Creator! 

 “When God solves your problems, you have faith in HIS abilities; when God doesn’t solve your problems, He has faith in YOUR abilities.” I truly believe in it.