Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  “It’s great to meet you in person, Ron.” They all shook, and Garrett got the feeling Ron was holding himself back from hugging everyone instead.

  “Thank you for coming, Garrett.” Ron’s voice was as gentle and kind as his eyes. “Some of the kids in my class are still having trouble reading, and I can’t get them interested in—well, we’ve already discussed this….”

  “Let me show you what I have and we can go from there.”

  A long, low table stretched along the back of the classroom, and Garrett headed for it. Ron hurried ahead and moved stacks of books and a few stray pencils to one side. He looked as excited as Garrett felt. Or maybe he was nervous. Chase hung back but had a clear view of the table from where he leaned against one of the small desks, and Andy stood at Ron’s side, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

  Garrett wasn’t trying to be dramatic but realized it probably looked that way—he unzipped the portfolio and opened it so it lay flat on the table. Sitting on the top of a pile of plain white paper was a rectangular sheet of white poster board with the letter A—capital and lowercase—drawn from the tails of two graffiti cats. The cats weren’t detailed, had only the bare minimum of lines to show they were cats. The idea was to get the kids’ attention while remaining as clear as possible.

  Nobody in the room made a sound, or even moved, so Garrett spread the alphabet out over the table. One sheet for each letter—the way he’d seen the alphabet in every classroom when he was a kid, but with an adult cat demonstrating the capital letters and a kitten’s tail the lowercase. By the time the poster board covered the table, Garrett had started to worry he hadn’t understood what Ron had been asking for, that he’d made a mistake. He was afraid to turn and look, to see the disappointment on their faces.

  “I can make the letters separate, more distinct, if—”

  “No.” Ron and Andy both spoke at once and then laughed softly.

  Garrett turned, and they were sharing a fond look. When they turned to him, both smiled.

  “No,” Ron said as he stepped up to the table. “This is amazing. They’re perfect.” He walked from one end of the table to the other, gazing down at the alphabet. It seemed like he had to tear his attention from the pages to Garrett. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. It was a fun project. I’m glad you like them.” Garrett gathered the alphabet into a loose stack and placed it on the table. After a lingering look, he zipped his portfolio closed. “If you ever want anything else, you have my email.”

  Ron lifted the H page. Drawing the letter H using cats’ tails hadn’t been as aesthetically pleasing as Garrett would have liked, so on that page their tails formed a heart. He’d used a block-style of script for the letters, the kind he’d seen other street artists use. Garrett had never been moved to tag using words but appreciated the style and thought he might use it again sometime.

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. I did it for the kids. I hope they like the pictures.” Garrett slipped his fingers through the portfolio’s handle but took his hand back without lifting it. “Say, if you have anything you’d like me to tag—draw—right now, I’d love to do it.”

  Garrett was so happy he could barely see straight and practically jumped to it when Ron made a “follow me” gesture. Garrett followed him around the long table to the board beside the classroom door. The Reading Board was what the sign said. When Garrett stood in front of the empty board beside him, Ron ripped the label off the top, leaving two large squares of colored paper making a frame. Around nothing, really.

  “You want me to replace this?” Garrett gestured to the We Are All Readers sign Ron was crunching in his large fists.

  “Not necessarily. If you have another idea, have at it.”

  Garrett grinned and grabbed a couple of Sharpies from his bag. When he stepped back, instead of a single line across the top, the Reading Board had rows of text along the left side and the right half was blank.

  We Are Writers

  We Are Scribes

  We Are Reporters

  We Tell Our Truths

  We Read Our Stories

  He tied the whole thing together with a few black and purple kittens to match the alphabet. When he stepped back, Garrett felt a swell of pride that mostly overshadowed the twinge of self-consciousness that always came with working in front of others. He didn’t turn around when he started to speak.

  “When I went to school here, I felt like nobody listened to me or even noticed I was here most of the time. Especially during summer school. The teachers who encouraged me to tell my stories… they kept me coming back. Made me want to learn.”

  Someone sighed behind him, and Garrett turned, fully expecting to see disappointment or disapproval on Ron’s face. Instead what he saw was closer to awe. Ron’s eyes might even have been a little red around the edges. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Garrett put his markers back into his portfolio and reminded himself to breathe. Being so honest had made him feel a little like bolting, but only a little.

  “You would make a great teacher.”

  Garrett surprised himself by giggling. “Thanks. I don’t have the patience, though. And would just turn everything into art or writing time. The kids need numbers too, and I’m no good with numbers.”

  “Are you sure you won’t let me pay you? I thought, when you didn’t want to discuss payment, it was because you weren’t sure about the job….”

  “I’m sure. I kind of owe Andy a favor. He probably should have done more than offer me a job that night he caught me tagging the—well, never mind that. It was fun. If there’s anything else I can do to help….”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve numbers?” Ron chuckled and extended a hand. When Garrett took it, he pulled him into a loose hug. Ron’s hand was almost large enough to cover Garrett’s entire back. If he’d thought about it, he would have said it sounded scary to have a stranger touch him at all, but what he felt was warmth and friendship.

  Garrett’s face and neck were warm when he stepped back, only a few seconds later. Chase had moved so he was the first thing Garrett saw when Ron released him. That simple gesture made Garrett feel like he did when Chase kissed the special spot on his neck—minus the urge to rip his clothes off.

  Mostly.

  They said their goodbyes, and Chase followed a half step behind Garrett as they left the school building and headed for the bus shelter.

  “Can I take you to dinner?” Chase asked when they reached the curb.

  Garrett smiled up at him for a long moment before answering. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  They crossed the street and sat in the same bus shelter where Garrett had met Andy. The kittens had faded but were still there. He’d used black and red Sharpies—his pain had felt raw and bloody that night instead of a dull and bruised purple. As they sat on the bench, Garrett took a second to realize how far he’d come from that feeling. To enjoy his better frame of mind while he had it.

  Chase bumped his shoulder against Garrett’s gently. “Amazing,” he said softly, almost reverently. “What you did for that teacher, those kids. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Thanks.” Garrett met Chase’s eyes and felt a little choked up. “I didn’t want you to think I’d take a card from a man who was flirting with me.”

  Chase only hesitated the tiniest bit before he took Garrett’s hand. “I know you wouldn’t. Even though I think everyone is flirting with you all the time—I know you wouldn’t.”

  “This is….” Garrett squeezed Chase’s hand. “Sweet. Not a good place for a PDA, though.”

  “I know. But I needed to touch you.” After a quick squeeze, Chase moved his hand back to his own thigh.

  A few moments of silence later, the bus arrived. They rode to a trendy little spot on Mississippi Avenue where they could sit outside, and ordered burgers and beers. The evening was mild but not warm enough that every seat had been filled before they got there.
>
  Garrett could tell Chase wanted to ask about… something. The fact that he didn’t, even after the server had brought their beers, made Garrett nervous. If it’s not bad, why doesn’t he just say it already? So Garrett asked about Chase’s elementary school days.

  “Did you like anything about school when you were a kid?”

  That startled a bark of laughter from Chase. “No. I… I forgot to go as often as possible.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I skipped whenever I thought I could get away with it. And sometimes when I didn’t. Most of the teachers passed me so they wouldn’t have to watch me drawing and daydreaming through their class again the next year.” Chase took a long pull from his draft.

  Garrett didn’t want to push down that path if Chase was uncomfortable with it, but he really wanted to hear more. He knew so little about Chase’s life before they met—aside from recent revelations and things the other guys had told him over the years—but school was obviously not an easy subject. I should’ve known better. A long moment spent trying to think of another subject that might be easier ended with a squeak when Chase asked him a question.

  “Have you been doing any writing lately?”

  “No.” It wasn’t lost on Garrett that Chase had shifted topics from the past to the present. As always.

  “Any reason? You don’t have to—”

  “Yes. I’ve wanted to write something for the Expositer about the St. Clouds’ movie, but it’s even harder to write when I’m… in a bad place, than it is to draw. To be honest, it scares me to write then.” He peeked up at Chase, disguising it with a drink of his beer.

  “I can see that. Your drawing at the brewfest scared me.”

  Garrett shrugged and looked away down the street. He saw more pedestrians than cars moving along the narrow road but used the word “saw” very loosely. That drawing occupied his mind and made him feel a little cold inside, empty and sad. “Me too. I wasn’t even paying attention. Not really. I was listening to Kyle flirt with Bran, and that’s what came out.”

  The server brought their burgers, and they ate in silence until Chase’s was half finished. Garrett lagged behind but not noticeably. At least I hope he hasn’t noticed.

  Chase broke the silence. “Do you know why?”

  Garrett looked up. He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand the question but had always been a terrible liar, so he just shrugged.

  “If you do, you can tell me.”

  “You mean it?” Garrett dragged a small handful of fries through the ketchup and hamburger grease on his plate but didn’t bring them to his mouth.

  “Yeah. Aren’t we supposed to be talking more?” His smile said he wasn’t completely sure he’d like the answer but was willing to walk the walk just the same.

  “Okay.” Garrett let the fries drop onto his plate and wiped his hand on a napkin. Without allowing himself to run down the rabbit hole chasing the answer to why he had to do that before he could address Chase’s question, he took a deep breath and then spoke. “It’s hard to watch our friends get married. Because I want to. Get married.”

  Garrett heard Chase’s gulp from across the table, even over the sounds of traffic and conversations and the cacophony of blood rushing in his own ears. He waited, as much to hear what Chase would say next as to catch his breath.

  He doesn’t want to. Not even a little.

  “Is it okay if I ask why you want to?”

  “If you’re going to tell me why you don’t.” Garrett cringed. He hadn’t meant so much hurt and… other things to come out on those words.

  “I didn’t say I don’t want to.”

  “You didn’t have to say it.” Garrett resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest and thought he did pretty well at keeping himself from glaring across the table.

  “You’ve got the wrong idea, Gare. I will.”

  “If I want you to.”

  “Yeah. Now what’s wrong with that? How many times have I said I’d do anything for you?”

  Garrett shook his head. “I don’t want you to do it for me. I want you to do it because you—” He looked away. The neighborhood and all the trendy people in it seemed hollow and phony. He felt melodramatic and stupid and didn’t know how to finish that sentence without ending up embarrassing them both right there on the street.

  “Because I love you? That’s why I will.”

  “No. Let’s go. I’m done eating.” Garrett stood but didn’t leave until Chase was paying the check. That was as long as he could wait. He’d been thinking about running from the restaurant holding his portfolio in front of him like a shield since the moment before he abandoned his dinner.

  Garrett wound tighter and tighter as they rode the bus southward to the Rose Quarter Transit Center. Instead of hopping a train across the river, Chase suggested they walk. Garrett wasn’t thrilled with the idea but didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. They walked, side by side, not speaking or touching, not even an “accidental” bump. By the time the condo was in sight, Garrett had calmed considerably. He almost took Chase’s hand while they crossed the last street—it would be much safer there than it had been in Northeast when Chase had done it in the bus shelter—but something held him back. Garrett teased at that thread and thought of something he hadn’t before.

  Maybe Chase felt safe with public displays of affection when he knew nobody in the vicinity was likely to recognize him. Or maybe it was the likelihood of seeing any spectators again that made him uncomfortable. The potential for being judged harshly being his motivator? He knew he should try to get Chase to talk about it, but was afraid the truth would hurt, so he didn’t.

  Garrett looked at Chase for the first time since he’d left the table. The sadness in his eyes scared him. No, it’s more than sadness. “I’m sorry I walked away from the table like that.”

  Chase swung his gaze up from the sidewalk and onto Garrett’s. He smiled a little. “It’s okay.”

  The silence between them weighted Garrett’s shoulders and made him grateful Chase went to the elevator instead of the stairway. He started to speak more than once on the ride up but just couldn’t. Part of him wanted to say it was okay if Chase married him just because he wanted it, but he knew he couldn’t mask the truth: saying that would be a lie. And Chase would see the lie, and everything would get that much worse.

  They made it inside, and Garrett stowed his portfolio in the den—beside his real secret project. Garrett stood in the den for a moment wondering which project Chase had seen that last time he’d run to Jess’s apartment, or if he’d seen them both. Chase appeared in the doorway. He didn’t come inside, just leaned against the jamb. His casual posture was a lie.

  “Can we talk about this, Gare?”

  The edge of one of his new charcoal drawings was visible behind the sketchpad leaning on his easel. He didn’t have to see more to know it was the one of the bonfire. Garrett had started a series inspired by the photographs he’d seen on the dresser the night he’d gotten his ass kicked. It was a challenge to draw an evocative picture of a bonfire without using any color, and he was proud of the pieces he’d done so far.

  “Please?”

  Garrett turned, and Chase had given up trying to hide his pain and confusion. The knowledge he was hurting Chase—again, for fuck’s sake—pierced Garrett’s heart like a dagger.

  “Okay.”

  “Is Jess working today?”

  “No. I’m not sure where she is.”

  “Then can we go in the bedroom? In case she comes home while we’re talking?”

  He’s trying so hard. Harder than I am.

  “Sure.”

  Just inside the bedroom door, Chase embraced him. Only for a moment, but long enough so Garrett felt him trembling the tiniest bit. Long enough to feel disappointment when he let go.

  “I don’t understand.” Chase sat on the bed and held out a hand.

  Garrett sat but didn’t take it, and as soon as Chase let it res
t on his thigh, he regretted that.

  “I don’t understand why it’s not okay if I marry you.”

  “I want you to marry me because you want to be married to me. Not because I want it.”

  “Why do you want it so bad?”

  “It’s the statement. The commitment. Forever.” I should never write again if this is the best I can do to communicate the most important thing in my life.

  “I don’t need a piece of paper to stay with you for the rest of my life.”

  “It’s not the paper. It’s… it’s the whole package. Standing up in front of our friends, the celebration, anniversaries….” It was all Garrett could do not to actually throw his hands up in frustration. I sound like a whiny little brat. “Why don’t you want to?”

  “Truthfully? I think marriage is a little too normative. For my tastes. I’m not criticizing anyone who wants—”

  “What?” Garrett managed not to shout, but it was a close one. “Are you accusing me, and all of our friends, of being—?”

  “No. I just—” Chase turned his body to face Garrett’s, visibly relaxing his posture. He reached out with one trembling hand and took Garrett’s, holding it lightly. “I never thought I would get married, to anyone. Never thought it would even be possible. I understand it’s different for you. You probably always thought you might—”

  “Wait. No. You’re not going there.”

  “Garrett. I—”

  “Because I’m bi and the potential for an actual, legal marriage has always been—” Garrett took his hand away from Chase before he thought about not doing it.

  “No. Not exactly. I mean, hasn’t it, though? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a—maybe I’m too….”

  “What if I need the piece of paper?” Garrett’s throat closed off once those words were out. He wished he could take them back. That sounded like a fucking ultimatum, which it’s not—

  Chase stood, and Garrett jumped up beside him.