John Cena's Arc

Chapter 12 of 12

Cena woke on the couch at first light. The TV was still on, the sound low. He shut it off and sat up. His shoulder pulled tight when he turned his neck. The house held the same quiet it had held the night before. He walked to the kitchen and made coffee and stood at the window with the cup in his hand. The street outside was empty. He had nowhere to be. That was the problem. He went upstairs to change. On the landing he stopped in front of the wooden gallery his charity had sent him after the last event. Eight framed paintings, all Pinehaven work. A fox. A deer on a road. Birds he did not know the names of. Local hands had painted them. He had hung the piece up and never looked at it. He looked now. The frames were plain wood. The signatures in the corners were small. He thought of the four names he had carried into the council hall months ago. Teachers. A nurse. A firefighter. A kid who had won a science prize. He had used their names to win his own stone. He had not gone back to any of them since. A truck pulled into the drive. Triple H climbed the porch steps and knocked once. Cena let him in. Triple H looked at the coffee pot, then at Cena. "You slept down here." "Yeah." Triple H poured himself a cup. He leaned against the counter. "Bret said you'd be like this." "Like what." "Done." Triple H drank. "You're not done." Cena set his cup down. "The stone's up. The match is over. What am I supposed to do." Triple H did not answer right away. He walked into the front hall and looked at the wooden gallery on the wall. He tapped the frame with the fox in it. "Who painted this one." "I don't know." "You should." He turned around. "Council seat opens next month. Not mine. Second one. Arts board wants a name people trust. I told them yours." Cena stared at him. "I'm not a councilman." "You spent six months learning how that room works. You made them approve four names besides your own on paper. You did the work already." Triple H set the cup down. "Say yes or say no. Don't drift." Cena looked at the gallery again. The fox. The deer. The bird on the branch. Names in the corners he had never read. "I'll say yes," he said. "On one condition. I want those four names from the marker put forward first. Before mine ever meant anything." Triple H nodded once. "I'll tell the clerk today." He left. Cena stood in the hall a long time. He took the fox painting off the wall and turned it over and read the signature on the back. Then he picked up his phone and called Bret Hart.