Brush Strokes

by E S Karlquist

  If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s taking notes, Todd would have assumed that they were on a date. They’re signing, and Daniel looks relaxed in a way Todd’s never seen him, not even the night they met, when things were going well. He’s laughing, signing in a flurry, and the girl signs as well, only pausing to take notes.

  Wow.

  Though Daniel told him the first night they met that he does a lot of compensating, Todd hasn’t fully grasped what that means until now. This, this is what being around Daniel would be like if Todd knew how to sign, if Daniel didn’t have to ask him to repeat things or focus so hard on his lips to puzzle out the conversation.

  Realizing that, caught up in his own realization, he’s staring openly, Todd’s about to head over to the corner table again, when Daniel looks up. Should he go over there and say something? He looks at the girl again—she’s still taking notes—and decides that it’s not appropriate to disturb them. He nods his greeting. Daniel nods back and then he smiles, making Todd bite his lip as he finally escapes to the table.

  It’s surprisingly easy to concentrate on schoolwork, despite Daniel sitting across the room. He makes it through three articles and jots down a few notes for the questions in the assignments. While it’s still a huge effort for him to learn all the theoretical stuff, it’s a lot easier when he doesn’t have a deadline hanging over his head. Stress makes his brain quit. Knowing his professor, they’ll discuss the articles before the lecture starts, and Todd would very much like to have something intelligent to say. Being prepared for class is pretty big, even for this new Todd, who’s way ahead on schoolwork.

  “Can I sit down?”

  Startled, Todd blinks away the blurriness that come with switching focus point too quickly. There’s Daniel holding a takeaway mug.

  “Yeah, sure.” Todd bunches his notes into a haphazard pile next to his laptop.

  Clearly hesitating, Daniel puts a hand on the back of the chair. “Are you busy?”

  “Nah, I was just preparing for my class tomorrow, and I’m basically done.” He can skim the articles again in bed.

  “Ambitious,” Daniel comments as he sits down.

  “It keeps me from thinking too much.”

  Daniel looks at him for a long moment before nodding.

  “What were you doing here anyway? It’s a bit far from Manhattan just for a coffee.”

  “No, thank you.” Daniel holds up his travel mug. “I already got one for my ride.”

  “Oh, no.” Todd hurries to clarify. “I can see that you have coffee. I was saying that it’s a bit far from Manhattan for grabbing a coffee.”

  “It’s what?” Daniel leans forward, and Todd mentally curses the bad lighting in this place. “Sometimes when I’m in a coffee shop, with so many distractions, and I only manage to get the last word like now, I assume they’re asking if I want coffee.”

  “It’s okay. I’m the one talking too fast and not thinking about how dim it is in here.” Todd clears his throat. “Before, I said: It’s a bit far from Manhattan for grabbing a coffee.”

  Leaning back in the chair, Daniel slides a fingertip around the dents in the plastic lid of his mug. “It was an interview for a school project. She was interested in my swimming. I think I gained a new friend, though.” He clears his throat. “Now I’m waiting for my car.”

  Of course he is.

  “That’s cool. You’re a good swimmer,” Todd says and then hastily adds, “based on the very scientific research I made from going to one of your meets.”

  Daniel grins. “You’re right. I am good.”

  “Cocky,” Todd mutters, but Daniel’s grin only grows wider.

  “Did you have a good time on Saturday?” Daniel asks then and removes the plastic lid to take a sip from his coffee. Todd wants to ask if he’s completely missed that there’s a hole in the lid for that exact purpose, or if there’s another reason to why he removes it. He doesn’t.

  “I did,” he says. “Did you?”

  “Sure. We continued to a club.”

  We.

  Todd closes the lid to his laptop and immediately regrets it. There’s so little between them now. “So I heard. Was it fun?”

  “It was a good night out. I like dancing.”

  Todd doesn’t think that’s another one of Daniel’s jokes about his own hearing loss, but he isn’t comfortable enough to ask. He’s saved from replying at all when Daniel’s phone lights, vibrating on the table.

  “My ride’s here. Thanks for the chat.” He stands, puts the lid back on his mug, and gives Todd a smile. “See you around.”

  Watching him go, Todd resists the urge to pinch his arm. Did he just have a somewhat normal conversation with Daniel?

  He repeats Dad’s words to himself as he packs up his things. Someone would be interested in the gallery’s space no matter what. The finances aren’t adding up, and they can’t keep the place. They’re two different things. Daniel just happened to be the guy who wants the space.

  While it sure does suck that he might lose a safe place and Mrs. Floral might lose her dream soon if things don’t get better, it’s not Daniel’s fault.

  Sighing to himself, earning a concerned look from the girl reading at the next table, Todd puts his laptop in his bag and heads home. Before bed, after he’s tried—and failed—to concentrate on his articles, he writes a couple of messages to people in school whom he knows are very talented artists. He’s twitchy with anxiety afterward, but he’ll take it over the bad conscience from not doing enough.

  When he crawls under the covers, his body is as heavy as though he’s run five miles and he’s unable to stop the what ifs. They stick longer tonight, possibly because he talked to Daniel today and it wasn’t awful.

  In an attempt to silence his brain, Todd grabs his phone from the nightstand and hovers over Evan’s name—and chickens out.

  Tomorrow, he’ll call tomorrow, after dinner.

  Chapter Four

  When Todd sees Daniel again, he’s trying to survive midterms, and the people around him seem to be competing about who’s stressing the most. Mela has been isolated. Todd might’ve done the same thing if it wasn’t for the gallery. Some days he hates going to work, and others he’s grateful for an excuse to busy himself with something non-academic and see people for a change. Thursdays are his opportunity to breathe and get out of his own head for a bit. For a change, the kids are quiet, focusing on their projects and raising their hands whenever they need his help. Maybe they can sense that something is bothering him. Jamal is still there after everyone else has been picked up by their parents, one by one.

  “Wanna help me clean up?” Todd asks, when Jamal has finished putting everyone’s pieces on the wall. It’s an uneven row and a little low for a grownup to look at them properly, but he’s been so careful with every single one.

  “Mom’s working,” Jamal says, not quite meeting Todd’s eyes the way he usually does when she’s late.

  “I know. She’ll come pick you up as soon as she can. Sometimes hospitals get busy, you know?”

  She works in the E.R. where sometimes she can’t get away on time.

  They clean the room and put away the supplies in the storage room. They’re running low on a lot of things lately, but it’s not the right time to ask Mrs. Floral to buy more.

  “I really like art,” Jamal says, when they’re sitting at the front desk having hot chocolate. It’s been almost an hour, but Jamal’s mom called a few minutes ago, apologizing profusely and promising that she’s on her way.

  “Me too. What is it that you like?”

  Jamal sighs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know. The colors. And that you can make anything you want.”

  For a second, Todd thinks he’s looking at himself at the same age. “That’s true. What’s your favorite thing to make?”

  “Haven’t found i
t yet. Every time you teach us something new, I think I’ve found it, and then there’s a new thing again.”

  He knocks his elbow against Jamal’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pick a favorite if you can’t.”

  “Can I like all art?” Jamal glances up at him, chewing his lip.

  “For sure, and sometimes you like some art depending on how you’re feeling that day. That’s the cool thing about it, you know.”

  “I made something in school too; you wanna see?”

  They look through Jamal’s notebook until his mom arrives, out of breath and with guilty conscience written all over her face.

  “It’s fine,” he says, when she starts apologizing again as they’re leaving. “I’m happy to stay here a little while longer. We had a good time, right, Jamal?”

  “We had hot chocolate,” Jamal agrees and then puffs out his chest. “And Todd likes my art.”

  “Exactly.” He ruffles Jamal’s hair and holds the door open for them. When Jamal’s mom meets his gaze, he adds: “Seriously, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

  During his next shift, Mrs. Floral catches him before she leaves for the day.

  “I saw the security alarm wasn’t set until well after Kids & Canvas ended. Did something happen?”

  Shaking his head, Todd concentrates on the box he’s packing. “I stayed to study. I can’t stand being at home and stare at the books there. No need to add extra hours.”

  When she remains quiet, he looks up and finds her frowning.

  “Seriously, it’s midterms. It was just a nice, quiet place to get some studying done.”

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  On the upside, midterms have people grasping for opportunities, as they face a precarious future after graduation. Some of his long shots agree to think about his offer, though he’s pretty sure that they could do better. Others reach out to him on their own, having heard about the opportunity to exhibit from friends. Apparently being talented doesn’t save you from worrying about the future.

  It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to see Daniel walk through the doors, looking just as exhausted as every other college kid.

  “Hi.” Todd closes the History of Modern Art he’s been reading behind the front desk.

  “Hey.” Daniel smiles, looking a lot less sleep deprived in an instant. “I’m here to see Mrs. Floral.”

  “I’ll go get her.” Todd also wants to ask her why she didn’t warn him about this. When he glances over his shoulder on his way to the back office, Daniel is picking up his book, flipping through the pages.

  Mrs. Floral is unpacking a new piece when he finds her. She’s got tape stuck to her hands and she looks a little sweaty. Glancing into the box, Todd finds a heavy-looking sculpture.

  “Your guest is here.”

  “Mr. Berger?” She straightens, and Todd winces at the sound of her back popping.

  Todd pauses, realizing that he doesn’t actually know Daniel’s last name.

  “Um. The guy who was here with his parents and Stanley.”

  “That’s Mr. Berger.” Mrs. Floral smiles at him. “I promised him a tour. All the back rooms and the smaller spaces.”

  “That’s nice.” Todd shifts, trying to shake the uneasy feeling under his skin. It’s not Daniel’s fault.

  “Would you be able to do it?” She holds up her tape-covered hands. “I’m rather occupied.”

  “Jesus.” Todd wonders if he should offer to help her. “Sure.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  Daniel has put the book back when Todd comes back to the front desk.

  “You wanted a tour?” Todd asks to make sure, gesturing around the space. It would be just like him to start showing Daniel around only to find out halfway through it that he just wanted to leave a message.

  “Mrs. Floral said it would be okay.”

  Nodding, Todd wipes his palms on his pants. “Yeah, of course. She’s busy unpacking a bunch of stuff. Would you mind getting the tour from me?”

  Daniel frowns, a slight crease forming between his eyebrows. “Are you okay with that?”

  “It’s no problem. Unless you very much want her to do it instead?”

  The crease disappears. “I’d be happy to get the tour from you.”

  Readjusting the back of his beanie, Todd nods and gestures toward the main room on the first floor. “We could start with the open areas and then take a look at the back rooms?”

  “Come again?”

  When Todd repeats the question, Daniel nods and follows him when Todd steps around the front desk and heads toward the next room. There are only a few patrons left at this hour, but a few weeks ago, there were even fewer.

  “So, I’d say that this is the largest open space we have. We’ve divided it with those fake walls to fit more works.” He stops when Daniel clears his throat and puts a hand on his shoulder. Mouth dry as if he’s just swallowed a pound of sand, Todd turns around.

  “I’m sure you said a whole lot of interesting things just now.” Daniel gives him a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But I’m still hard of hearing, so I need to see your mouth.”

  Smacking a hand over his face, Todd wishes that he could go back in time to have Mrs. Floral do this.

  “I’m really sorry. Talk about being a dick.”

  “It happens.” Daniel shrugs.

  That makes it even worse. “Well, it shouldn’t. I know better.”

  Daniel shrugs again, and Todd gets the impression that he doesn’t feel like talking more about this.

  “All right, so this is the biggest open space we have,” Todd repeats, staying turned toward Daniel and doing his best not to flush. “These—” Todd gestures at the fake walls “—you can remove these easily. We move them around all the time.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Do you wanna look around?” he offers.

  “Sure.”

  He watches Daniel move around the room. To his surprise, Daniel stops to look at some of the pieces and not just the layout of the room.

  Todd is showing him the second floor when he stops mid-step and turns around to point out the fire exit. Daniel is just behind him, and unable to stop, he smacks right into Todd. Stumbling backward, Todd has enough time to think that he’s going to bash his head open against the brick wall and that’s a really shitty way to die, when Daniel grabs his arm and steadies him.

  His face burns and Todd pretends to smooth his shirt. “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” Todd straightens, feeling a bit disoriented. “You’re very solid.”

  Daniel laughs. Laughs. Todd doesn’t think he’s heard Daniel’s laugh since the night they met.

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” Todd blurts before he regains control over his mouth. “I was gonna say that the fire exit is right there.”

  Daniel is still smiling, eyes twinkling. “Good to know.”

  Todd doesn’t realize that Daniel’s hand is still on his arm until he’s about to turn around again. His need to apologize to Daniel for how he behaved in the past grows stronger.

  He shows Daniel the areas upstairs and is again left waiting when Daniel gets caught up in one of Fernández’s pieces. This one is of a lighthouse in the middle of a foggy lake. It’s in watercolor, and Todd spent a long time looking at it when they put it up.

  “That’s my current favorite,” Todd says, when Daniel turns toward him.

  “It’s a bit sad.”

  “I think it’s kinda hopeful too, with the light through the fog.”

  “Could you repeat that?” Daniel asks, and Todd does. Daniel looks at it again and hums. “You could be right.”

  Discussing art with Daniel isn’t something he thought he would do in a million years. Ac
tually, discussing anything with Daniel was off the table for a while. “So, we only have the back rooms left.”

  “Do I need to see those?”

  “I just assumed—” Todd shrugs. “We have a lot of them?”

  “Okay, show me.”

  It’s not until he gestures around the first back room that Daniel blurts out a laugh. He’s somewhere between embarrassed and amused when Todd turns around, with color on his cheeks but still a smile in his eyes. “Oh, I thought you said bathrooms. I’ve been walking around thinking that you’re going to show me all the bathrooms the entire tour. I didn’t realize until now. You said back rooms, right?”

  “Oh, my god,” Todd says and then can’t help but laugh too. “No, we have two bathrooms, and a million back rooms.”

  “It does make more sense to show me the back rooms,” Daniel says with a grin.

  Todd takes him around each of them, opening every closed and locked door. There are many for a pretty tiny space.

  Downstairs, he pauses in the back room containing the boxes with new pieces. Mrs. Floral is putting them on display now, meaning that Daniel and Todd are alone in a confined space with a lot of cardboard. The new art supplies he got on sale are on the shelves. Since he used his paycheck to buy them, it’s almost if Mrs. Floral bought them herself, and that’s what he’ll tell her if she asks.

  “We use this for storage,” Todd says. “And unpacking pieces. You could probably use it for something else, if you’d like.”

  “You’re always in need of storage.”

  Taking a breath, Todd tries to muster up some courage.

  “This is the last room.” Biting his lip, he looks at Daniel who meets his gaze with patience that tells Todd he knows there’s something he wants to say. It makes it easier and harder at the same time.

  “So,” Todd says slowly. “I’ve been wanting to apologize for being a dick. With the lying, and the general… dickishness.”

  “I appreciate that,” Daniel says after a beat of silence. “I’ve gathered that this place means a lot to you and Mrs. Floral. It’s nothing personal.”