Empty Destination

A Story by Krista Everson

A young artist finds himself living off the streets after losing his wife to cancer and his home. He is offered a job from a private investor. Greed rears its ugly head.

We live in a culture engrossed by consumption of all kinds: technology, money, food, and material possessions in general. We are conditioned to believe that these consumables satisfy our insatiable appetite in achieving more because we think more is better.

Shel Silverstein beautifully addressed the nature of the relationship between giving and receiving in “The Giving Tree” about a young boy who visits the tree wanting more from the tree as he ages; in the end, the tree had nothing left to provide and the boy as an old man just wanted to sit on the tree stump and rest.

The point is: the more we want, the more we expect and the less grateful we are. We are consumed by the consumables until there is nothing left to consume.

Meet Randy. A brilliant, young artist living on the streets of Los Angeles. Randy does not meet the stereotype of the typical homeless man. He’s clean-cut, articulate and well-mannered. He does not drink nor partake in recreational drugs. He simply wants a job. He simply wants a place to live. Randy’s deck of cards, as one may assess, is a little rough. He lost his home two months ago followed by the loss of his wife due to cancer. Depression reared its ugly head after he lost his wife; nothing seemed to have mattered. His work at the design firm was sloppy; Randy was eventually terminated. He spends most of his time painting portraits of the Los Angeles metro area and its essence during the day and night.

People passing by Randy were intrigued by his work, but not enough to offer a job opportunity. Months had passed and his luck remained unchanged. Randy leisurely walked by a couple of shops and stopped for a moment to view the weather report on the television that was on display at TVs and Appliances.

“…And this just in…be prepared for some heavy showers and 40 mile per hour winds…”

“Great, just great…” Randy grumbled to himself.

Dark clouds danced through the once blue sky. The warm air quickly turned cold. Thunder roared in the distance. The rain poured. The wind picked up speed. Randy’s paintings flew across the once busy streets of Los Angeles. Not a single vehicle moved. There was no sense of motion to be felt other than Randy’s anxious brain. His paintings were demolished.

Randy walked and walked until he could find shelter. He eventually found a small alleyway tucked between two very large bank buildings; he rested there for the night, cold and wet. Chills trickled down his spine. The wind never ceased to die down.

It was 8:00 in the morning. The glaring sun brightened the alleyway. Randy felt no motivation. He woke up briefly and then drifted off to sleep. A sudden nudge awoken Randy. He figured it was a nudge that took place in some sort of dream state; he paid no mind to it…until he felt another nudge and then another nudge.

“Wake up. Wake up. Wake up, “a voice bellowed. “You want a job or not?”

“Huh?” Randy rubbed his eyes.

The stranger asked again, “You want a job, or not?” He stared at Randy impatiently.

“Yes, of course! What would I be doing?”

“Well, “ the stranger continued. “I’ve noticed your art work and I’d like you to paint for me, design my website and assist me in auctioning off art work specifically for private businesses.”

“Wow, sounds…”

“I have a guest house you can stay in until you get back on your feet. We’re going to get you cleaned up and get started. Everything you will need to produce your art is at your disposal in the guest house.”

Right around the corner appeared a shiny black limousine. A driver exited the driver’s side and opened the backdoors, waving at us and holding a welcome sign with our names on it. We boarded the limousine. “Drink?” I declined. “My name is Charles, by the way. And you are…?”

“Randy. Pleasure to meet you, Charles.”

While Charles was enjoying a few Bourbon and cokes, Randy was gazing out the window enjoying the scenery as we were driving to his place. He saw a sign entering Beverly Hills. Charles lives in a beautiful home; it’s not just an ordinary home…it’s a mansion located on a beautiful hill with an impeccable brick road leading to it, and of course before entering this palace, we must first pass through the gate. Fancy. Never have seen anything like it in my life, Randy was thinking to himself. He figured he may as well enjoy the ride. Ride? Or is it a dream? If it is a dream, Randy will enjoy it anyway.

Charles showed Randy to the guest house. Amazingly, it is a size of a regular modern home…say about a three-two, approximately three-thousand square feet and has access to a private pool and spa. In addition, there is a basement stocked with all of the essentials needed for Randy to create his art. Randy settled in, showered, and meandered the house. He was intrigued by all the varied displays of art work displayed in the house dating back to the 15th century Renaissance period. A few notable artists caught Randy’s eye such as Jan van Eyck, Hieronymous Bosch, and Botticelli. Randy felt as though he was in a museum (with free admission!). He was thinking to himself, if the GUEST HOUSE looks like a museum, then he could not imagine the main house.

Hieronymous Bosch's "The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things" caught Randy's eye. He could not stop looking at the painting and experiencing it on an unimaginable emotional level; it seemed as though the painting was speaking to him in a way he was never spoken to before. The human condition is indeed complex, interesting and also very frustrating, as shown in this painting and this is why Randy was enthralled and taken into a different journey he has never experienced: human follies depicted through a fervent nightmarish lens.

Greed, through Randy’s eyes, was the most dangerous deadly sin on many different levels, as it signifies the birth of human corruption and the desire to want therefore creating a vast array of emotions such as jealousy, anger, hatred and anxiety. Little did he realize, this very sin is exactly the slippery slope that was soon going to adversely affect Randy’s reputation.

Charles entered the house and provided a long list of tasks for Randy. Charles was in the middle of negotiating a contract with Medical General to design their new ward, updated with all the bells and whistles for wealthy people who can afford hospital services that almost seemingly feels like a resort and spa, but for the sick. Of course, this is huge albeit Los Angeles is the center for the rich and famous. Randy was eager to start on the project. He spent hours in the basement drawing different designs and conceptualizing this new, forward-thinking hospital. After several drafts, Randy chose the perfect one and presented it to his boss. This new ward is going to be beautiful; eight stories, 880 square feet suites equipped with private baths on marble and jetted tubs. Each suite included a tablet to shop, order food, listen to music, and request in-room spa services. Another interesting feature about the suites is that each one is unique; not a single suite looks the same and the art work and furniture arrangement is different. Randy had an “Ah-ha” moment. Each suite will have a name. Charles was very impressed with Randy’s draft and immediately scheduled a meeting with the revenue director at Medical General at 10:00 sharp on the next morning.

Charles and Randy met with Daniel Hollingsworth, the revenue director at Medical General. They presented their proposals over a cup of java for about an hour, which seemed like an eternity to Randy. His mind wandered when the meeting turned into financial jargon, “budget,” “projected dollars and sense”, and blah, blah, blah. “Well, “ Mr. Hollingsworth started to say, “I do not see why I would not grant you the contract. Your design is flawless, and I like your train of thinking. Congratulations!” He shook hands with Charles and Randy. “Oh, before I forget, let me cut you a check.” Mr. Hollingsworth cut the cut for an obscene amount of money; Randy could not believe his eyes. Did he just make double his annual salary after just one hour of sitting? He sure did!

Randy went on a splurge and got fitted for 5 different types of custom-made suits. He bought 5 different styles of Italian leather loafers, a Louis Vuitton briefcase, Armani sunglasses, 3 different pairs of jeans, 10 button-down shirts, a couple of Argyle vests, and several pairs of socks. When he returned back to the house, Randy changed and then decided to go out and get his hair cut followed by treating himself to sushi for lunch. He can certainly adapt to this lifestyle.

The work for Medical General was just the beginning of Randy’s success and reputation. Every day, he is offered new design jobs and he has accepted each and every job, therefore maintaining a very busy and hectic schedule. Channel Six News News featured Randy, “Meet Randy, a young, innovative artist of many kinds; Randy is changing the face of design.” Several world-renowned designers emulated his designs. There was rarely a day when there were under 200 E-mails in his mailbox and his phone never stopped ringing with inquiries. The phones. Randy was thinking to himself that the incessant ringing was going to cause him to develop Tourette’s Syndrome. Since he was featured on the news, Randy was always greeted by strangers with smiles and questions, “Randy, how did you find yourself from rags to riches?” Randy smiled, “I’m a self-made, motivated man who, against all odds, found a way in this crazy world.” Charles grimaced when he saw the news. His blood boiled. He helped Randy get back on his feet and define himself as not only an architect, but a celebrity. Come to think of it, Charles recalled Randy never thanked him for his generosity and hospitality.

At the beginning of July, Randy vacated Charles’s house and bought his own mansion in Malibu. He was always adding additions to his new home. The next project was adding an elevator. One Ferrari was not enough, so Randy bought two more Ferraris. One giant lap pool and spa was not enough, so Randy was in the process of constructing another pool and spa. At this point in his life, he really did not need to be working as hard as he did, so he employed two drafters from Orange County and an office manager from San Francisco who was just starting out in the corporate world. Randy hired her because she’s smart and pretty, but mostly pretty. Her name is Felicia. Felicia is about 25, graduated from San Francisco State University with a degree in writing and lives in apartment with 2 roommates. She is a very quiet person and Randy did his best to get her out of her shell. On one evening he took her out to an Italian restaurant in downtown. He liked Felicia, and he was hoping to get to know her more on an intimate level.

Felicia strictly kept to business. She did not give any thought to Randy’s new success and wealth. Success and wealth did not consume her, like it did Randy. She liked him, but not beyond more than a friendship. When they arrived at the Italian restaurant, they were greeted by the hostess, “Come this way. I have the best seat in the house, very private, to your liking.”

They sat down. “I’d like your most expensive champagne.”

“Anyway,” Randy continued. “So, this investor only offers me one hundred thousand dollars for a year contract to, pretty much, run his business. What am I? Crazy? He may as well throw pennies at me!”

Felicia did not utter a word. She was bored and borderline irritated. Randy continued the same topic about money and the injustice of frugality that is stifling his creativity. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Oh, sure. Oh, by the way; I want to buy you some new clothes. You know, you are representing me by working for me and merely being in my company. You clothes are not representative of my values.”

“Okay, that’s it! I’ve had enough! Randy, I liked you before you became this.”

“This?!”

“I’m out of here! And I quit. Goodbye. Enjoy your lifestyle, and the loneliness that will follow!”

Randy sat at the table, finishing the champagne bottle to himself. Charles greeted Randy, “Do you have anything to say to me? Anything?”

“No, not really.”

“Fine then. I’m pulling my entire investment from your design firm and my friends and colleagues will follow suit. Your cavalier attitude just became your downfall. A simple thank you would have sufficed. I helped you. Do you not recall?”

“Fine. Pull all of your investments. I will do just fine.”

Of course, Randy did not do just fine. The beginning of his downfall started when he lost his entire staff and he could not fill any of the positions. Word spread about his demeanor, and Charles helped spread the word like wildfire. Not only did he lose jobs and was losing money, the subjects of the E-mails in his inbox mostly read, “You’re an a*s” or “Have fun losing all your money and returning back to where you started from!” Day-by-day, all his vehicles had been repossessed, and lastly, the bank foreclosed on his home. Randy did not have a single friend. He was completely alone, buried in what remains of his wealth of anxious thoughts. Randy hated life. He kept to himself, cooped-up at home and had to force himself to leave his apartment just to go to the grocery store for the basics, food and toilet paper.

Grudgingly, Randy walked to the grocery store across the street from his apartment wearing plaid pajama pants and an old collegiate hoodie. “The stares,” he thought. All eyes were on him, secretly shaming him for his greed. “The stares, again,” Randy muttered to himself. The room around him spun. He wondered if the stares were actually real or if he was I imagining it. Laughter far in the distance seemed to permeate the floor. All laughs. All fingers were directed at Randy. Randy quickly grabbed a carton of milk, left the cash at the register and ran out the door. These episodic events occurred for months, until it was time to commit himself into a mental institution.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary,” Nurse Shelby greeted. “Please complete the packet, have a seat and I will be with you momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

“So, what brings you here, Randy?”

“I’ve had a very rough year starting with losing my wife to cancer, losing my home and all my possessions, and living on the streets until my luck suddenly changed and I was offered shelter and a job that led to great success until greed consumed me and I lost everything again, and this time around, I had no friends and people hated me.”

“Wow, that sounds very rough.”

“Then I started hallucinating, and so I think? The stares. The laughs. The shaming. I began to wonder if I was just seeing all this because I felt guilty, or if it was all real. This is precisely why I am here. I need a mental cleansing. There is nothing left for me out there. I feel the need to start over, to turn a new leaf, and be content without the desire to want.”

“Very interesting. Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Nurse Shelby escorted Randy to the property; up ahead, Randy noticed two beautifully crafted wooden doors leading to the west ward, where Randy was going to reside for a couple of months. Nurse Shelby opened the doors and let Randy inside. Down the hall and to the right, Hieronymous Bosch's "The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things" was mounted on the wall, and that is when Randy knew he was in good company.