Q

Q – The Park Side

The detectives glanced over at Q as they finished questioning the Ice Cream Vendor.

“Him? He can’t help you. He sits here and watches people, draws people and then he goes on his way. Harmless. He’s a mute street artist. And maybe he’s a little touched. Everybody knows Q around here.”

The street vendor was correct on one item only – Q was mute. But Q was definitely not an idiot, he’s not completely harmless (he could be quite the opposite if he so desired) and he already helped. But in his typical fashion, Q let them assume the street vendor was correct. When people realize that Q is mute, they automatically assume that he can’t hear either. Many also lean towards the assumption that perhaps there was some mental deficit as well. He laughed internally at all of this. He was not your typical street artist. Highly intelligent and clever, Q was a straight-A college student and had a passion for drawing.

He didn’t want to get hauled down to the police station. Though he saw the entire robbery and assault go down the day before, and he was actually the one who took the video recording of the incident and sent it to the detective, there was no way he wanted to get involved any more than that. It all happened so fast and guns were confidently wielded.

So, he sat there and pretended to be absorbed in his drawing, hoping this detective was not as clever as the television character Danny Reagan from his favorite show, “Blue Bloods.” He wasn’t worried about the video being traced back to him since he always kept a cheap non-traceable cell phone handy just for these situations. The detectives asked the street vendor a few more questions, bought an ice cream from him, and sent him on his way. It was hot out and a great day for the bicycle ice cream cart business.

The detectives left. They were glad for the actual footage of the incident, but really hoped to find the video-recording witness. The victim was in the hospital with a serious head injury. They wondered if the person who took the video footage was an innocent bystander or if he was a part of the crew. The footage Q sent was clear and helped them identify and apprehend the perps. The detectives didn't like loose ends and the anonymous video recorder was definitely a loose end. On so many cases.

“Hey, are you Q?” A man and his wife timidly approached Q. They had just started eating their ice cream. “The ice cream vendor said we could find you here.” Q looked up from his drawing and smiled. Q had a very handsome face. His light brown eyes and his wide, welcoming smile drew people in immediately. The couple was quickly at ease.

“I was wondering if you could sketch my wife and I. A friend of mine showed me a sketch you did while he was walking and playing with his dog. It was awesome. He said you didn’t charge, but I will pay you $50 for a nice one of us.” They were young and from Iowa, visiting the big city for a family gathering. Q could tell that they were the type of tourists who really wanted a personal souvenir from their big city visit. So he obliged.

It was nothing short of divine intervention from God that they were able to catch Q while they were in town. And Q was a believer. He only showed up in the park to draw once a week, twice at the most, never any set day or time. Other times he would be dressed in his brown or green and blend in with the background. On those days he would sit under a tree, unnoticed, people watching. Taking notes. Capturing crime on video, sending it in to the police. Q was a master of being invisible – as close to being a chameleon as humanly possible. He could be so still and quiet, standing against a tree, and you could sit down underneath that same tree, not knowing that Q was behind it. It has happened. He has had to silently and slowly move away, so as not to scare the pee out of anyone. That has also happened.

Today Q was on a bench near the pathway, dressed in his sketch-day gear, black T-shirt, black cargo shorts, black Sperry topsiders. The backdrop of the lake, bridge and skyline was perfect. Q sketched the couple as they stood leaning on the guard rail. He wrote them a note. “Just stand there and be natural. You can talk.” Q was a fast sketch artist. Instead of black & white, he used color and it was amazing. He captured every detail - their faces, the color streaks in her hair, the waviness of his. The city’s unique bridge and well known skyline was the background. Perfection.

Q used his 9 x 12 inch sketch pad and usually just handed the sketches to those he had drawn on his own, as he had done for their friend. But for those who paid and made a special request, he placed them in photo frames he purchased from the dollar store, for temporary protection as they transported their art.

The couple was amazed at the sketch, the detail and how it was a picture perfect images of themselves. The young man handed Q the fifty, both thanking him profusely (the wife gave Q a kiss on the cheek) and they left excitedly. The wife stopped, looked back at Q and said, “God bless you.” Q smiled and the couple proceeded to walk away. Q looked up at the sun with a smile and felt so blessed.

Shortly after that, Q packed up his supplies in his backpack and headed home. It was spring break and his girl was coming home from college.

There was definitely more to him than met the eye. There were four distinct different sides to Q. Most people only knew one of his sides. He was 5’6”, slender but muscular and very handsome and friendly. His park acquaintances knew nothing about the three other sides of Q. The people in his worlds did not collide. He didn’t plan that on purpose, but he liked it that way. He felt it added an air of mystery to himself.

He made his way through the city park at a casual pace, trying to decide if he wanted to take public transportation or a cab. “Q!” Someone called his name. He recognized the voice. Q rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was them. Again. “Bring your mute ass over here. Ain’t no cops around so your little punk-ass whistle won’t help you." Q didn’t turn around, but he knew they were approaching. Fight or flight. He then saw that one of the thugs was coming towards him, thereby surrounding him.

For the past two years, Q had avoided this group. Petty criminals, they mainly harassed the homeless and street artists – musicians, singers, artists like Q - and would shake them down for any little valuables or change they had collected. They must have seen Q with the couple. Q was a master of avoidance, since a great number of his 19 years had been spent avoiding bullies and fights. Though he did have a few fights, they were few in number because Q was never beaten. His mom made sure of that. She knew that her child, having been born mute, and of small stature, would encounter the worst side of people. From a young age, she enrolled him community programs that were free or had a nominal charge. They were poor, but his mom always found a way. He was in so many programs – self-defense, karate, boxing, weight training. She made sure that her sweet, shy son would not be a victim. His IQ was at genius level, and he was a quick study. He and his mom knew sign language, but his teachers did not. Anytime he had a question in class, he would write a question mark or a Q on paper and hold it up for the teacher. That’s how he got the name Q. He much preferred that to the neighborhood name they blessed him with – “Mute Mike”. In his neighborhood there was Fat Mike, Tiny Mike, Mike the Mechanic… And because Q was the little kid Michael who couldn’t talk, he became Mute Mike. Until school, that is, and then his name became Q.

So now, once again, Q was facing bullies who underestimated him and felt they could take something from him. Q dropped his bag and ran full force towards the one thug who was closest to him. “Yeah, come on punk,” the thug yelled, not knowing what he was asking for. As they collided, Q went low and elbowed the thug hard in his stomach, knocking him down and out of air. Q grabbed up his backpack just before the rest of the guys reached him and took off. They were stunned; the unexpected quickness and ability with which Q took down their friend gave them pause.

As Q disappeared into the crowd, he smirked and thought, “They don’t even know.”