91. Interview with Catherine D’Amico: Part 13

26 June 2011

– When did things get complicated? [Cathy scoffs] When were they not complicated?

– The first time I really realized something was off about Tony’s—I don’t know—sanity, was the afternoon I first saw his art. Even though, I kind of believe he wanted me to see it all.

– He wouldn’t have just left the paintings and drawings out next to his bed like that if he didn’t want me to see, especially knowing I was coming over. He could have hidden them, the same way he had for all those months before that. But when I showed up, there they were, and they were beautiful. I mean, breathtaking.

– There was one of this woman sitting on a meadow staring at the sun.

– I mean, it looked like a photograph, that’s how good the detail was.

– When I asked him about it later, about the picture he’d had to use as a reference, he told me he did it from memory. And, I mean, when I found out even later that the woman was Louise, I was a little upset that she was that deeply embedded in his mind, I admit. I am a jealous person in certain situations. Who isn’t? But it was hard to look at those pictures and feel anything but awe.

– They were amazing. He was an artistic prodigy.

– I decided to show one to my aunt at her gallery, as a surprise to Tony. My aunt loved it, even though she got all pissed off at me for not telling her about Tony earlier. She’s kind of dramatic sometimes.

– Anyways, she immediately asked if there was more of his art, which there was. Dozens of pieces. It seemed that all Tony did in his free time since moving down here was paint and draw.

– He had a stack of blank canvasses under his bed in his motel room, sketch paper stacked on the bedside table, an easel set up next to his bed, and a bunch of paint and sketching pencils and charcoal. And I mean, that stuff costs money, high quality supplies. Between his unstable financial situation, the money he spent on painting materials, and his motel fees, it’s a wonder he had anything to eat.

– I seriously don’t know how he survived off of what he made doing jobs with the Mexicans. But he never complained about money, and he always seemed to have exactly what he needed.

– Because I know he wanted more, and I figured he’d be excited for the chance to move up a little through my aunt’s gallery. The people that visit there, they’re not known for being cheap. Tony could have made something out of his hobby, even though I think now that even in that beginning phase it was more than just a hobby.

– Well, I went to Tony and gave him the good news. Told him my aunt wanted to have a showing for him. I was so happy, I remember, I wanted to show him this wasn’t just a…I don’t know. A fling. It was such a weird feeling I had around him in the beginning, like I was back in high school again, way too ecstatic for a twenty-four year old. I loved and hated the feeling, but I couldn’t control it. So when I told Tony about my aunt’s offer and he flipped out on me, I couldn’t do anything but cry about it. I felt so stupid. I still do whenever I think about it actually. Like I’d really screwed things up.

– It’s weird, because part of my mind like, screams at me still that I didn’t do anything wrong, that Tony was just being a prick. But then there’s this other part that’s like…he just wanted to live his life. And I kept pushing him to go outside of his comfort zone.

– Yeah. Really crazy stuff. I’d never seen him act like that before. And, I mean, he apologized later, sure, but by then it was obvious there was something wrong with him. Normal people don’t act the way he did all the time: constantly staring off into space, edgy, ready to snap at the slightest sign of distress. He’d be happy sometimes, but it was like he was bipolar or something.

– Like this one night, I remember we went out drinking with a couple of friends from my job. We went to this local spot out by A1A, live band, drink specials, really cute place. Me and Tony danced and it was sweet—he could be really sweet sometimes, don’t get me wrong, even though that just made it worse when he wasn’t—and everything was going perfect this night until some guy came over and brushed up against me.

– Like one of those purposeful brushes, you know? Grabbed my ass a little, standard asshole behavior.

– The place was pretty crowded, so the guy acted like he just bumped into me accidentally, but it was obvious he meant to do it. The way he smiled when I turned around, it creeped me out. And, I mean, that was disrespectful on his part, sure, but it’s South Florida. You’ve got to expect that type of crap around here. Gentlemen don’t really exist anymore. I’d expect Tony to know that, sometimes, things just happen like that. You brush it off and ignore it. I was with him, not this other guy, you know?

– But no. Tony snapped, pounced on the guy and started, just, beating him. Punching him in the face, slamming his head into the ground, making all these growling noises and stuff. I mean really, really angry stuff, way angrier than the situation called for. And, I mean, I couldn’t really understand why he’d act like that.

– The thought was sweet, sure, like he was protecting me. But it didn’t even seem like that after a while. More like he’d been looking for an opportunity to just rail on somebody.

– If I hadn’t known the bartender there, asked him not to call the cops, Tony would have gotten arrested and his cover would have been blown and then what? But no, Tony didn’t think that far ahead. He just snapped.

– Yeah. I mean, I was already in love with him by then. I didn’t really have a choice.

– We couldn’t hang out with my friends after that night either, and hanging out at home with Tony just made me see even more that something was wrong with him.

– It was around that time I threatened to end things if he didn’t talk to me. I think I really scared him then. He didn’t want to be alone. Nobody would in that situation. He told me everything that night and I cried with him and then I convinced him that Les Palmer could be a prosperous painter even while Tony Stephens hid away. He believed me. I believed me.

– I didn’t know what it would lead to, I swear. I just wanted him to be happy.

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