Behind Blue Eyes

All in all, Tori couldn't deny it was a pleasant, traditional service. Her father had been given a lovely send off, probably far nicer than he had deserved and certainly better turned out.
Tori loved her father, but had often wondered whether she was the only one. Her mother had left him when she was just a young child and after that there had not been any other love interests. As for friends, she wasn't aware of any, he certainly didn't talk about any or even partake in any social gatherings that she was aware of.
It brought about the question, why were there so many people in attendance? Kenneth had passed away suddenly at the age of just 45 years, there had been no previous health scares or warnings; he simply collapsed whilst on a morning run through the local park.
This meant the majority of those in attendance were most probably work colleagues or family members, likely just thankful it wasn't them who formed part of that unfortunate statistic of middle aged men meeting an early, unexpected demise.
For the most part, the service was quiet and respectful. At one point in the service, the vicar had mentioned the turn out saying, “I'm sure Kenneth would be humbled and flattered to see such a great turn out today, to say farewell to a much loved father and friend.”
It was this statement that made Tori give an involuntary, loud snort of amusement, causing the entire church to go silent. Tori dropped her head in embarrassment, and took a tissue to her nose in pretence that she had sneezed.
The truth was that her unfortunate interruption would have been the only part of the service that her father would approve of. Her father would have hated to see so many people in attendance with their fake grief. The fact that not only did Tori disrupt such a sombre moment, but also received a series of disapproving stares and grumbles would have certainly amused Kenneth.
Tori remained silent in her pew for the rest of the service, musing over her absent father and how he would have responded after witnessing such a farce.
The service ended with music chosen by Tori, much to her mother's disapproval. It was Behind Blue Eyes by Kenneth’s favourite band, The Who. The lyrics were hardly appropriate for such an occasion, but this added Tori's amusement, a joke only she and her dad shared.
At the wake she was introduced to a huge number of strangers, all offering their condolences and other false platitudes. Had she have paid attention to their words she may have been able to confirm exactly where this community of mourners had derived from, but today was her day to grieve for her father and nobody could take that from her.

The following day Tori took her friend Thomas to Kenneth’s apartment to look through some things before the remaining items were taken away for recycling. It all felt very rushed to Tori, but her mother had little interest in hanging on to any remnants of a man for whom her love and affection had died away many years before he did.
Tori had stayed at her father's apartment on countless occasions in the past, despite the tiny size it was her second home with a wealth of memories. Tori knew every part of every room and yet opening that front door knowing he wouldn't be on the other side to greet her filled her with dread. This was the reason for Thomas’ company, a friend from college as well as neighbour, he had always been supportive of Tori throughout their childhood and adolescence. He also knew her father and whilst Kenneth didn't exactly view anybody with particular affection, he seemed to tolerate Thomas.
Hesitantly, Tori entered the cold apartment, slowly closing the door behind her. She paused for a moment and looked around. For a moment it appeared that the room was covered in snow, there was a blanket of white over everything inside the living room. Tori felt herself shiver with cold, her fingers suddenly felt numb as if frozen.
“Tori! Are you OK?” Thomas interrupted her thoughts and suddenly Tori was back in the living room of her deceased father. Whilst it wasn't exactly Mediterranean temperatures, there was no snow anywhere to be seen and her fingers had regained their feeling.
“Right. Where shall we start?” asked Tori with forced enthusiasm.
“Shall we do the bedroom first?” Thomas suggested.
“You know that's pretty much just a box don't you? There's barely room for the bed in there, let alone anything of value.” Tori mocked.
“Even better,” responded Thomas, “that'll be a quick one to tick off the list.”
“OK, you start in there and I'll do in here.” Tori looked around her at all the memories she had gathered under this one roof. And now she was about to spend the next hour picking out trinkets that could in some way represent the sentimental value of the last 15 years.
Tori's thoughts were disrupted by a shout from the bedroom. Thomas had already begun his mission with eagerness, but forgotten one subtle part of the task, “What exactly am I looking for?”
“You what?” Tori replied.
Thomas’ head appeared through the door, “I mean there's a load of stuff in here. Most of it is probably junk, but is there anything in particular you want me to look for?”
“I don't know.” Tori paused realising she hadn't made any plans on how this exploration of her father's apartment was going to happen. She had no idea what she was looking for, did he even have anything that held any sufficient value to her?
She took a moment to think it through as Thomas’ head disappeared back into the room. “I guess any photos or sentimental looking stuff. He used to be into art when I was young, so any paintings or drawings would be nice. I don't remember seeing any, but Mum said he sold a few pieces so. He must have been quite good.”
“Really? Why’d he stop?” Thomas called out from the bedroom.
“I don't know, she wouldn't say exactly. Apparently he was talking about exhibiting some of his at at one point. But then something happened, he changed! His relationship with my mother deteriorated, he withdrew from all his friendship groups and he just gave up on his art, selling all his paints and materials.”
“When was this?”
Tori paused thoughtfully, “I was about 2 or 3 I think. Too young to remember any of this, but Mum has given away snippets her and there over the years.” With that, her voice faded as she glanced at the television to see a small framed photograph of her wearing her football kit. She must have been about 10 years old and was holding a small, golden trophy. It was the year she had been voted player of the season and her father was incredibly proud.
Tori felt a small smile appear across her face as she gazed at the delighted expression of the girl looking back at her. Her blue eyes shone above her bright red cheeks and broad, toothy grin.
She remembered that feeling when her name was called at the end of year awards ceremony; the elation and surprise at being named the best player over the entire year. It was an incredibly proud moment, both parents had been there, one of the only times in her life that her parents had willingly been in the same place at the same time.
Tori's thoughts were suddenly interrupted again by a loud shout from the room next door.
“Woah!” came the call of a very excited teenage boy who had clearly found something he shouldn't have. “Look at the size of those?”
“What have you found?”
“It’s pictures, but I'm not sure if they're the sort you're looking for.” Thomas laughed
The following day Tori took her friend Thomas to Kenneth’s apartment to look through some things before the remaining items were taken away for recycling. It all felt very rushed to Tori, but her mother had little interest in hanging on to any remnants of a man for whom her love and affection had died away many years before he did.
Tori had stayed at her father's apartment on countless occasions in the past, despite the tiny size it was her second home with a wealth of memories. Tori knew every part of every room and yet opening that front door knowing he wouldn't be on the other side to greet her filled her with dread. This was the reason for Thomas’ company, a friend from college as well as neighbour, he had always been supportive of Tori throughout their childhood and adolescence. He also knew her father and whilst Kenneth didn't exactly view anybody with particular affection, he seemed to tolerate Thomas.
Hesitantly, Tori entered the cold apartment, slowly closing the door behind her. She paused for a moment and looked around. For a moment it appeared that the room was covered in snow, there was a blanket of white over everything inside the living room. Tori felt herself shiver with cold, her fingers suddenly felt numb as if frozen.
“Tori! Are you OK?” Thomas interrupted her thoughts and suddenly Tori was back in the living room of her deceased father. Whilst it wasn't exactly Mediterranean temperatures, there was no snow anywhere to be seen and her fingers had regained their feeling.
“Right. Where shall we start?” asked Tori with forced enthusiasm.
“Shall we do the bedroom first?” Thomas suggested.
“You know that's pretty much just a box don't you? There's barely room for the bed in there, let alone anything of value.” Tori mocked.
“Even better,” responded Thomas, “that'll be a quick one to tick off the list.”
“OK, you start in there and I'll do in here.” Tori looked around her at all the memories she had gathered under this one roof. And now she was about to spend the next hour picking out trinkets that could in some way represent the sentimental value of the last 15 years.
Tori's thoughts were disrupted by a shout from the bedroom. Thomas had already begun his mission with eagerness, but forgotten one subtle part of the task, “What exactly am I looking for?”
“You what?” Tori replied.
Thomas’ head appeared through the door, “I mean there's a load of stuff in here. Most of it is probably junk, but is there anything in particular you want me to look for?”
“I don't know.” Tori paused realising she hadn't made any plans on how this exploration of her father's apartment was going to happen. She had no idea what she was looking for, did he even have anything that held any sufficient value to her?
She took a moment to think it through as Thomas’ head disappeared back into the room. “I guess any photos or sentimental looking stuff. He used to be into art when I was young, so any paintings or drawings would be nice. I don't remember seeing any, but Mum said he sold a few pieces so. He must have been quite good.”
“Really? Why’d he stop?” Thomas called out from the bedroom.
“I don't know, she wouldn't say exactly. Apparently he was talking about exhibiting some of his at at one point. But then something happened, he changed! His relationship with my mother deteriorated, he withdrew from all his friendship groups and he just gave up on his art, selling all his paints and materials.”
“When was this?”
Tori paused thoughtfully, “I was about 2 or 3 I think. Too young to remember any of this, but Mum has given away snippets her and there over the years.” With that, her voice faded as she glanced at the television to see a small framed photograph of her wearing her football kit. She must have been about 10 years old and was holding a small, golden trophy. It was the year she had been voted player of the season and her father was incredibly proud.
Tori felt a small smile appear across her face as she gazed at the delighted expression of the girl looking back at her. Her blue eyes shone above her bright red cheeks and broad, toothy grin.
She remembered that feeling when her name was called at the end of year awards ceremony; the elation and surprise at being named the best player over the entire year. It was an incredibly proud moment, both parents had been there, one of the only times in her life that her parents had willingly been in the same place at the same time.
Tori's thoughts were suddenly interrupted again by a loud shout from the room next door.
“Woah!” came the call of a very excited teenage boy who had clearly found something he shouldn't have. “Look at the size of those?”
“What have you found?”
“It’s pictures, but I'm not sure if they're the sort you're looking for.” Thomas laughed
“Oh God.” Tori's heart stopped for a second and she dropped her head in disappointment, both in her dad and her juvenile companion. “Is it porn, Thomas?”
“You could say that.” He then gave another outrageous laugh, “Yikes! I don't want to know how she's able to do that!”
Tori shook her head. She couldn't help feeling a little amused, after all he must have had a lonely existence at times. Maybe a little self love shouldn't be scorned, but there was no time for this now.
Tori could hear Thomas laughing out loud in the next room. “Thomas! Please leave my dead father’s pornography alone and stay focused on why we’re here.”
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you, but you might want to take a look at this.”
“Eww! Why would I want to look at my dad’s porn? Just leave it where it is and I'll stick it in a bin bag later.”
All of a sudden Thomas’ tone changed. The juvenile giggling vanished and a much more serious tone emerged. “Tori. You've gotta see this... It's not porn!”
“What do you mean? What is it?” Tori was relieved, but also a little apprehensive that this was some sort of trick or joke; but the change in Thomas’ voice was unmistakable and couldn't be ignored.
“Seriously Tori, hurry up. You've gotta see this.”

Tori entered the room and saw Thomas sat on the bed staring at what looked to be an A3 sized sketch pad.
“What is it?” Tori asked.
“It’s your dad's sketch pad. Well I’m guessing it's your dad’s.” He turned to face Tori as she entered through the doorway and he handed over the sketch pad.
Tori opened the pad, took a look and then frowned. “OK. I get it.” She growled. “So he did a bit of life drawing in the past. I’m guessing there are some pictures of naked women in here are there? A few naked butts and tits? You’re so juvenile!”
She was about to throw the pad back at Thomas, but he waved his arms urgently as if trying to gesture to a speeding driver. “No! It's not that. Look again.”
Tori’s arm paused. “What is it then?”
“Look, he did do a little bit of life drawing, but actually they're all above the shoulders only. Not a single boob to be seen. But that's not what I'm talking about, turn through the pages, past the few of you as a child.”
Tori did as suggested, albeit suspicious of where this was leading her. “OK. What am I looking for?”
“You'll know when you see it. It's kind of hard to explain, it's at the back...”
Tori turned the pad over and opened the last page. Thomas paused as he saw Tori's expression change immediately. Her cheeks tensed and tears started to fill her eyes. “Is that?”
Tori had become fixed on a particular sketch, it was of her father. He appeared to be lying on the floor, wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
Thomas launched forward to comfort her. “Do you see it?”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Tori asked, trying to hold back the tears.
“Don't you see? Your Dad drew this. He drew his own death.”
“Oh my God! You're actually enjoying this aren't you? My dad is dead and you're excited!”
“But don't you see how incredible this is? Your dad died whilst he was out running didn't he? And look what he drew. How did he know?”
“Are you saying Dad was some sort of fortune teller? That he predicted his own death and then drew it?” Tori scoffed.
“I don't know. But you can't deny there is no other reasonable explanation. Did he ever tell you about this?”
“Nothing. As far a I knew he gave up art when I was little. I put it down to his separation with my mum.”
“Well, if that's true, he either carried on in secret or drew this over ten years ago.” Thomas responded trying to maintain a calm, calculated tone.
“Where did you find this?” Tori asked.
Thomas looked over to the wardrobe. “It was over there, underneath the wardrobe. It was covered in dust as though it hadn't been moved in years.
“That's impossible,” Tori responded adamantly as she flicked through the other pages. There were multiple pictures of her growing up; from baby pictures to one of her playing football. Even one of her in her prom dress.
She couldn't deny her father had incredible talent. It was like a photo album, the sketches had been made with impeccable detail.
Tori felt overcome with regret; she had never seen any of her father's art before. She had never asked and her father had never spoken of it. Maybe if she had he might have been encouraged to pick up where he'd left off. She had never realised how talented he was, but more that that, she had never made an effort to find out. Tori sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on how he would have felt had she have been able to tell him how amazing his art was.
“You OK?” Thomas asked as he lay on the floor rummaging underneath the wardrobe.
 Tori snapped out of her thoughts, “Some of these must have been done more recently. Look at this one of my prom dress, he got everything spot on. Are you suggesting he predicted that? How could he know?”
“I don't know, but looking at all this dust, the things under here haven't been touched in years, including that sketch pad.”
“But how could he have got all this detail? He didn't even see me in my prom dress.”
Thomas seemed to ignore that last question. “Look, there's another one under here.” He gave a faint groan as he struggled to reach his arm under the wardrobe. “Got it!” he announced and then returned to Tori clutching another sketch pad in his hands.
The pad was almost identical to the previous one. A thick layer of dust had settled on the cover, which Thomas proceeded to brush off with his hand.
“How do you explain that?” Tori asked holding up the picture of her wearing her prom dress.
“Wow! It's even better than a photograph.” Thomas paused for a second and took a look at Tori before returning to the sketch. “You know, I’ve never noticed how blue your eyes are until now.”
Tori took another look at the image, she hadn't noticed until Thomas mentioned it, but all the images had been black and white except for her eyes, which her father had coloured in blue to reflect the colour of her own eyes. Tori smiled, “Yep. Same colour as his. I think it was the only thing we had in common when it came to appearances, I look much more like my mum.”
“Strange. You know, they say that the older child is more likely to look like their father. Apparently something to do with him not rejecting them.” Thomas perched himself on the edge of the bed beside Tori and opened the sketch pad in his hands.
“Well, that wasn't the case with me, and I’m an only child.” Tori responded and turned the page of the pad she was holding.
“Woah. That's you isn't it? Looks like you're graduating University.” Thomas exclaimed.
Tori leant across to view the picture as it rested on Thomas’ lap. “Let me see that.”
It was true. The picture was undoubtedly her, an almost identical expression of elation to that of the ten year old in her football kit. This time she was older, wearing a mortarboard graduation hat and clutching a scroll of paper proudly in both hands.
“When did he do this?” Thomas asked.
“I've no idea. But this hasn't even happened.”
“And look at your hair!” Thomas declared loudly. “This is definitely you, but you look older. Your hair is different, I've never seen you wear it like that.”
“That's because it's underneath a mortarboard. How often do you see me wear one of those?” Tori was trying to dismiss Thomas’ insinuation that her father had somehow seen into the future, but even she found it hard to explain. The drawings seemed so perfectly detailed.
Thomas turned the page over and  again stopped in amazement. This time it looked like a sketch of a happy couple getting married. One was clearly Tori, the familiar broad, toothy smile beneath her blue eyes. She looked to be wearing a light coloured suit with cravat. Stood beside Tori, was a beautiful girl with long, elegant eye lashes and curly, dark hair with flowers tied into it. A girl neither Thomas or Tori recognised.
“And who is that?” Thomas jested, his eyes almost popping out of his head.
“Well, the one on the left looks like me.” Tori replied.
“Ha ha!” Thomas responded sarcastically. “You know I mean the other one. I don't recognise her. Who is it?”
“What's the matter? Jealous?”
“Of marrying you? Behave!” Thomas mocked. “But clearly your dad is convinced somebody is crazy enough to do that, and it looks like this is that girl. So, who is she?”
Tori stared hard at the image of the happy couple. Initially she tried to place the face of her supposed future partner, but nothing. Where had he come up with this person? Was it somebody he knew? A chance meeting? An assortment of features from multiple people? Whoever it was, they were too perfectly detailed for them to be entirely imaginary.
Thomas waited patiently for a response, but soon realised it wasn't coming. “You know, one thing is certain, it was clearly drawn by your dad.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?”
“Only a father would draw their child a partner about 3 or 4 leagues above them.”
Tori swung her arm at Thomas in playful offence, but with more force than she had intended. “What are you saying?”
Thomas failed to anticipate the assault and took the full force of the strike across his chest falling back off the bed and landing on his backside with a thump.
“Ow!” Thomas whined unsure whether to complain about the pain in his chest or his bruised backside. “I just meant the girl in the picture is stunning, you are seriously punching above your weight with her.”
“Well it sounded like an insult.” Tori responded. “And I’m still not convinced that it wasn't one.” She then looked down to see her friend crouched on the floor in pain.  “You ok down there?” and she reached out a hand.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll get myself up thank you.” Thomas pulled himself to his feet with a disgruntled groan and dismissing the offer of assistance with disdain.
The sight of Thomas stood clutching his injured arm whilst simultaneously rubbing his bruised backside was too much for Tori and she found herself laughing uncontrollably.
“Hey, there's no need for that. I'm really hurt over here.” Thomas protested, but his words were downed out by Tori’s laughter. In some ways it was nice to see her laughing, especially considering the circumstances that had brought them to this point. What did it matter if that laugh was at his expense? Thomas was happy to take one for the team, though he couldn't deny he would have preferred it without the pain.
It was as he watched Tori continue to laugh her heart out that he spotted the sketch pad on the floor; it had clearly fallen with him. He looked down to see it had opened on a new page, one he didn't recognise.
Thomas bent over to pick up the pad and as he did so, the image came into focus. To the onlooker, it took just a matter of seconds for him to realise what was depicted in this sketch, but to Thomas time stood still as he felt a cold, sharp pain shoot through his body.
“No! It can't be! Why would he?”

As quick as a flash Thomas swept up the sketch pad from the floor and slammed it shut before Tori could register what was happening. With no words of explanation he stormed out the room holding the pad out in front of him as if evicting an unwanted guest.
“Thomas?” Tori sat stunned on the bed. He had always been a bit of a drama queen, and certainly not the most resilient to pain, but this seemed a little different to a simple case of being over sensitive. There had been a sense of urgency in his disappearance.
What had happened? Tori wondered. Had her laughter really caused such an outburst or was it something else? She wondered whether she should follow him out, but the sheer surprise of his reaction caused her to remain seated. She had never seen him react so aggressively.
Thomas’ departure was soon followed by a series of loud noises coming from the kitchen. It sounded as though he was frantically emptying all the drawers of cutlery onto the floor. Tori knew she had to find out what had happened, so she rose to her feet and walked out the room.
“You ok?” she called out as she approached the kitchen. As she stepped through the door, she was met with mayhem; plates, bottles, bowls, cutlery, random food products scattered across the floor. There was a cloud of flour swirling around in the air, like a savoury hurricane.
Thomas was at the centre of the chaos, frantically searching around the mess like a man possessed.
“What are you looking for?” Tori asked, but Thomas didn't respond, he didn't even acknowledge her presence, such was his focus on the task at hand.
What happened next happened so fast Tori could only stand and watch as the scene unfolded. Thomas took hold of a bottle of liquor, most likely vodka and smashed the bottle over the sink emptying the contents into the bowl. He then took a match which lit immediately and flames leapt out from the sink as he allowed the small stick to slip through his fingers.
“What the hell are you doing?” Tori demanded, reaching forward and grabbing hold of Thomas, she pulled him away from the inferno he had just created.
“It’s gone! Now it can't happen right? It's gone!” Thomas just kept repeating himself, he was making no sense and still seemed entirely unaware of Tori or the fact she had probably just saved his life.
Leaving Thomas by the kitchen entrance, she stepped over the mess of broken plates and loose cutlery and turned on the cold tap.
The flames began to subside surprisingly quickly until all that remained were what looked like the soaked, charred remains of an old book – or in this case, a sketch pad.
“What have you done?” Tori asked as she turned around to Thomas.
Thomas was stood in the doorway, crying. His cheeks were red and the tears shone in the light. Tori stepped over the mess and towards her friend feeling a mix of conflicting emotions. Angry at how he had reacted so disproportionately to some silly drawings, and yet sympathetic to the fact what he had seen had clearly upset him deeply.
She approached with caution, unsure how she,  herself would react to his explanation, but knowing that they both needed some kind of recognition of what had just happened.
“Honestly, I never imagined you'd react like that over anything. I mean I'm flattered, but you must know you've got a bit too much dick to be my type.” She gave a gentle smile, hoping her little humorous comment would be received in the manner it had been intended.
Thomas looked up, and gave the first sign that he had acknowledged her presence in the kitchen with a faint smile. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve before replying, “And you must know I wouldn't marry anyone who could beat me in an arm wrestle.”
The two both laughed and the tense atmosphere began to fade along with the smoke from the fire.
“So what's going on? Why that overreaction to just a picture?”
“It wasn't that picture.” Thomas answered. “It was something else. Something I can never unsee.”
“But why destroy it?”
“So you would never have to see it. In fact the whole pad, it was your life waiting to happen. Only it had already happened. And that's not right! How can you live your life if you already know what happens.”
“You mean the ending? You saw how I died?”
Thomas paused, looking deadly serious. “Maybe.” He replied, wiping a tear from his eye, “ But maybe the future hasn't been decided yet. Just promise me ...”
“No!” Tori interrupted. “Don't say anymore. I don't need to know and I don't want to know. My future is mine to decide.”