Hearts Repaired

by Caraway Carter

  “Is this where you’ve been for the past hour?” Lawrence chuckled.

  “No – has it been an hour? I got a little lost after you and I parted ways near the gift shop. I turned left and then right into this room. There was a young couple sitting on the floor staring at it. And I stood behind them. I hadn’t realized I’d been here so long.” Curtis chuckled.

  “It’s okay. Art has a way of pulling people in.”

  “I heard they have a print of Spring in the gift shop. I’ve got to get a copy. And look, it’s your namesake.”

  “What?” Lawrence titled his head.

  “Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.” Curtis pointed to the tag at the side of the painting.

  “Well, I’m not a sir. I’m just a guy,” He blushed.

  “Hey, isn’t this the Lawrence that that guy in class said he liked?” Curtis stepped back and took a quick picture of the painting.

  Lawrence looked at his watch. “They close in about twenty minutes. Let’s get to the gift shop and fill out this quiz.”

  He held on to Curtis’s hand as they left the room. “The gift shop is just over there.”

  “I don’t know how I could have gotten lost, but I’m so glad I did.” Curtis clutched Lawrence’s hand.

  They wandered through the gift shop.

  “Lawrence, look, they have books about the artist too. And I have to stand in line to get the print.” Curtis jumped into the long line and flipped through the book.

  Lawrence stood behind Curtis, bent down to leave a kiss, and whispered, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

  “I’ll be right out.” As Lawrence walked past, Curtis pulled him close and left a big kiss on his lips.

  “What was that for?” Lawrence blushed and looked around.

  “For letting me goof out on art like that.” He smacked Lawrence on the ass. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

  Lawrence laughed and looked around to see if anyone had seen them. What did it matter if they did? He walked to one of the outdoor tables, waved to other classmates, and flipped to the last page for the quiz to answer the questions of where his feet had taken him. He’d touched the one statue that you were encouraged to touch, a reproduction of Antonio Canova’s Venus of the Bath. He remembered how he felt guilty touching the sculpture, but once touched, he felt as though he were transported to the time. Even if it was a reproduction, it was the surrounding architecture that whisked him to that moment.

  He’d stood transfixed by the small busts of leaders from long ago. As he filled out the last place he’d been, Spring, by the other Lawrence, he saw that they were required to visit a museum of their choosing, a place that meant something to them.

  Lawrence slammed the pamphlet shut when Curtis kissed the back of his neck, as though Curtis could see what he’d been thinking.

  “Hey, they’re almost closing,” Curtis said. “You saw way more than I did. I filled out the quiz waiting in line.” He held up a long tube that must have contained a print of the painting that’d stolen his breath.

  Lawrence nodded, and they walked off toward the car.

  Both were quiet for a while, and then Curtis grabbed Lawrence’s hand. “I had a wonderful time. Let’s forget about lunch and just go back to your place to crash.”

  Lawrence smiled; he’d been thinking the same thing. The other thought in his head was the museum. He had no idea what sort of place to take Curtis that could be anything other than cars. As he walked, he folded the paper up, shoved it in his pocket, and pulled Curtis close. “Sounds like a plan.”

  As they walked back to the car, Curtis spoke up. “That was that guy’s favorite painting. I can see why.” Curtis beeped the car when they got near.

  “It was beautiful, just like your smile when you were telling me all about it. Made me feel like I was walking in the parade. It came to life through your eyes.” Lawrence opened the door and sat down, slipping his hand in his pocket to touch the test and wondering what museum he could lie about, because he knew the Petersen Automotive Museum was out of the question.

  13

  Curtis

  Curtis pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. The engine light came on just before he shut the car off. He shook his head as he walked up to the hostess.

  “I’m meeting a friend for lunch.” Curtis looked at his watch.

  “Is it that gentleman in front of the water wall on the phone?” The hostess pointed at the back where a muscular man sat.

  “That’s my friend, yep.” Curtis thanked her and headed to the back.

  Ned wasn’t exactly large; his muscles made the tight shirt bulge around his arms. The restaurant was full of attractive men and women in business attire.

  “Fast Turtle?” Curtis said as he slipped into the booth.

  Ned nodded and grinned. “Yes, David. The invitations have been sent out, and I’ve also ordered the cake we liked and the dinner you wanted. Everything is going to be all right.” He nodded again and smiled. “Look, Curtis just sat across from me. Let me finish this lunch and I’ll meet you at Neiman Marcus.” He smiled again. Thank you. I love you too.” He turned the phone off and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  Curtis was grinning with a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Okay, Curtis I’m here for you. Yes, the Fast Turtle. It’s unusual, but it’s also the best French meal on the Westside.”

  “When are you and David going to buy a loft on the Promenade like the rest of the crew?”

  “I don’t think David and I are part of your ‘crew.’” He moved his fingers in for the air quotes.

  “It’s true you didn’t go to the bars with us, but I’ve got good memories of you, my old friend.”

  Ned leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. “Why do you always bring that memory up?” He motioned for the waiter, who promptly appeared at their table. “Two glasses of your house wine and a medium charcuterie platter with nuts, jams, and breads, please.”

  As the waiter left, Curtis leaned back in the booth, his arms draped across the back. “Because I love remembering you under the bleachers.”

  “Jesus, Curtis, you never give up, do you?” Ned ran his finger beneath the collar of his shirt.

  “Why should I?” He winked. “I’m getting involved with a guy, but I’m not dead. Memories are probably safer than cheating on someone I’m interested in.”

  Ned placed his hand firmly on the table. “Besides, I’m not interested in cheating on David. We’re getting married in six months.”

  “So our imaginations will have to do.” Curtis closed his eyes as his grin grew wide.

  “Wait, did you say you were seeing someone?” Ned did a double take.

  “Yeah. I’m not going to say too much. The last few times, everyone has told me I’m oversharing.” Curtis took a drink of the water on the table.

  “Well, you do have a tendency to tell people things they didn’t want to know.” Ned gripped his glass and sipped.

  “Suffice it to say, it started as a great one-night stand, and I know it’s only been a week, but I’m looking forward to each new day with him,” Curtis sighed.

  “That’s how I feel about David. Even all this wedding stuff isn’t making me hate him; it’s only making me love him more. He sent me an email of all the things I needed to do. We’ll get the clothes this afternoon, but we still don’t have a venue.”

  The server delivered the food and drinks, and zipped off again.

  “Wow, six months out is getting close.” Curtis took a sip of the wine and picked up a crostino. “You know, Friday was my last day at work.” He looked directly at Ned. “You might have to foot the bill for this.” He laughed.

  “I know you’re set for a while; I do your accounting. Any word from Bernie about handing everything over, yet?” Ned popped a couple macadamias in his mouth.

  “Nope, not yet. But Marilyn has the keys, and we’re starting to clean up the place.”

  “Do you have any paperwork for me? Anything I need to know asi
de from your leaving the hospital?” Ned turned to open his briefcase.

  Curtis reached into his breast pocket. “I’ve just got this one set from Memorial. You created the corporation, right?” The meal was pushed aside as Curtis laid out paperwork.

  Ned opened a file on the table and scribbled a note on the side. “I did.”

  “That’d be great. I’m also interested in settling down, maybe purchasing a house. You know – give up on the loft life.” Settling down like you might be nice. I wonder if Law might reserve a drawer for me.

  “You just moved into your loft, and isn’t your office a few hundred feet from there?” Ned asked.

  “Yeah, but… just a thought, you know? You guys aren’t thinking of moving into a loft,” Curtis said.

  “Who’s this guy you’re dating? Is he needy and wants you to be his daddy?” Ned smirked.

  Curtis thought about Law demanding to be the boy. He laughed. “No, nothing like that. In fact, he’s much older than me, but he doesn’t want me to be anything but who I am.”

  Ned spread some jam on a piece of bread. “Where do you want to move? I’m not a real estate agent, but I know people.” He jumped as his phone buzzed, fished it out of his pocket and read the message. “Shit. David wants to know how many ushers I want.” He looked up at Curtis. “I don’t know an answer to that. But I wanted to ask – will you be my best man?”

  “Me? Because I took your virginity?” Curtis winked.

  Ned’s face broke out in red splotches. “No, I just… You’ve been my best friend forever.”

  Curtis nodded. “Sure, I’d be honored.”

  “Well, that’s that. How many ushers do I need?” He typed into the phone.

  Curtis held up two fingers.

  Ned nodded and typed that in too.

  After their plates were cleared away, Ned pulled the portfolio from the briefcase. “I’ll just need your signature on a few of these returns. You aren’t getting much, but next year, once the business is under your belt, you’ll maybe get more.”

  Curtis signed the paperwork. “Mercedes? You’ve got one, right?”

  “I do, but I’ve given it to David for getting around. Don’t laugh, I’m in his Prius. He convinced me the Mercedes would be a more influential car.”

  “That’s bullshit. Who are you marrying, again? One of the Kardashians?” Curtis laughed.

  “No, I told you David’s not a groomzilla. I think he just wants to impress his friends with his wealthy boyfriend,” Ned said.

  “Fiancé,” Curtis corrected.

  Ned grinned. “Anything else you need from me?”

  “Now that you ask, and this’ll be a long shot, but do you know a mechanic that does tune-ups on Mercedes? My check engine light came on, and it’s only a couple of years old.”

  “Oh, hey, my uncle Larry owns an auto shop. Maybe he’s got experience with your model.”

  “Great. Can you lead me there and then drop me off at my loft? I’ve got a class down on the Promenade this evening. I’ll just walk there.”

  Curtis waved down the server, and handed him his card, and after a few minutes, they were out the door.

  “I’ll meet you at your car. Hello?” Ned answered his ringing phone as he walked to his royal blue Prius C.

  Shortly after, he pulled up beside Curtis, who sat in his Roadster.

  “Ned, that car is so small.”

  “Shh, Reginald will hear you.” He pressed his index finger to his lips.

  “Who’s Reginald?” Curtis asked.

  Ned pointed at the steering wheel. “David named him.” He shrugged.

  Curtis grinned and shook his head. “Lead the way, Reginald!”

  “It’s a few blocks away,” Ned shouted out the window.

  14

  Lawrence

  The garage door rose up, and Lawrence waved. “I couldn’t sit at home one more day. The hand doesn’t hurt anymore. I changed out the gauze, put ointment on it, and wrapped it tight so I can work. You guys look busy.”

  “Hey, Law,” Tim said. “See, I remembered.” He beamed with pride.

  “Tim, great to see you, bud.” Lawrence placed his Big Gulp on the counter and reached into the bowl for a candy bar. “This candy is almost empty,” he complained.

  “I don’t think we need to fill that up anymore,” Tim said.

  “It’s not like I had a heart attack. I just burnt my hand.” Lawrence opened the fridge to find veggie drinks and carrot sticks. Shoved in the back of the freezer, he found a bag of assorted candy, and he grabbed it. “Okay, whose drinks are those?”

  “Tim’s been making me drink healthier stuff.” Mario stood close to Lawrence. “Can I get a drag off your soda?” He laughed.

  “Yes, and dammit, Tim, we run off the energy of candy and drinks fixing these cars.” Lawrence emptied the bag of candy into the bowl. “What’s the roster look like? You’ve got three more cars outside.”

  Mario lifted the clipboard from the wall. “There’s two Mercedes, the BMW, that old Rolls, and a Porsche.”

  “Who owns the Maserati?” Lawrence asked.

  “My boyfriend bought it for me last week,” Tim said.

  “Your boyfriend?” Lawrence asked.

  “Some rich dude that came in here,” Mario whistled.

  “And the guy doesn’t care that you work here?” Lawrence asked.

  “Well, he met me here. I mean, in the immortal words of Lawrence Barnsdale, ‘We’re just fucking.’” They all laughed.

  “But he bought you a car,” Lawrence exclaimed.

  “No, he gave me the car. He said it needed to be fixed, so he had it towed here last Thursday.” Tim motioned with his hands.

  “Is this a project you’re working on?” Lawrence asked. “I don’t see any paperwork on it.”

  “I was kinda hoping we could all work on it? Make it… like a shop project.” Tim got his tools ready for his bay.

  “Wow, I’ve never thought about a shop project before.” Lawrence looked over at Mario, who was smiling.

  “Might be fun, boss.” Mario gave a thumbs-up as he slurped the Coke. “So, you’ll take the BMW and I’ll take this 450?”

  “Sounds good. Oh, I’ve got one more thing.” Lawrence reached into the bag he’d brought and pulled out the Getty Villa calendar. He removed the Auto Parts one with the barely dressed librarian bending over, looking at her flat tire, and replaced it with the Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema calendar. “This is more my taste than those skimpy women.”

  Tim whistled. “About time.”

  “I kinda liked looking up at her tush,” Mario said. “Reminded me of Tilda back before the babies started coming.” He grabbed the discarded calendar. “I’ll put this in my locker.”

  “I’ll be sure to remind you of that when next year’s comes out,” Lawrence said.

  When Mario got back, he smacked Lawrence on the shoulder. “Did you mean the next baby or calendar?”

  “Whichever makes it tougher for you,” Lawrence laughed.

  They slipped under their assigned cars and began working, until Lawrence saw feet around the back of the car.

  “Uncle Larry? It’s Edgar!” a familiar voice shouted into the garage.

  “Oh, shit, I forgot your name was Edgar,” another familiar voice laughed as they walked alongside a 450 SL.

  * * *

  “Uncle Larry?” Edgar shouted again.

  “Hold up, Edgar… I’m just about finished… Fuck, Mario. This isn’t working.”

  “I told you, boss, you didn’t have to come back,” a muffled voice from under the Mercedes shouted back.

  Lawrence slid out from under the BMW, grease on his face, hands, and gauze, as a pool of oil spread out over his chest, which suddenly tightened.

  Now he knew why Edgar’s friend had sounded familiar.

  He stared at Curtis, who had a huge smile on his face. Everything blurred for a second, his heart beating faster than usual. He took a deep breath.

  “Law? What are you doing
on the floor with that hand still wrapped up?” Curtis stared at him.

  But Lawrence wasn’t hearing Curtis anymore. Lawrence remembered Jeffrey walking away. He lay there on the board, stunned…

  “Is that you, Lawrence? What are you doing on the floor like that?” Jeffrey turned from Lawrence to his friend.

  “You know him?” The friend pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose.

  “It looks like the guy I’ve been dating the past year, but he’d never be caught in a place like this, covered in grime,” Jeffrey said.

  “Obviously he’s just some rough trade you picked up at the baths.” The friend laughed.

  “Hey, do our car, and we’ll be back to pick it up,” Jeffrey said rudely—or was it Curtis? He couldn’t tell.

  Jeffrey leaned in close to Lawrence. “Don’t ever call me again. We are through. You told me you had a real job.” Lawrence blinked his eyes, and he saw Curtis laugh. “You are nothing better than the sludge you have on you. Someone with more intelligence would at least be running the place.”

  And as if from a distance, he heard his nephew say, “Curt, you’ll love the way he touches the car as though it were the most special thing in the world. His skills under the hood are better than any shop I’ve been to now or ever.”

  Lawrence looked again and saw the grin on Curtis’s face. It blurred again, and it was Jeffrey’s sneer. He stood up, turned toward the counter. He grabbed the blue shop towels. He had to clean up.

  Edgar talked up a great story, and at every turn Lawrence could hear Curtis laugh. It brought back the hateful way Jeffrey spoke of him. He didn’t realize how much it still bothered him. He had really thought that Jeffrey was “the one.” He went to the shop sink, and began coming up with ways and reasons to not work on the car. He squirted GoJo into his hand.