The Colors Between Us

by Kate Hawthorne

  “Joel left me, once.” Gabriel’s voice softened, and he took a small sip of water then held the glass with both hands on the table. “Different circumstances, obviously. I had overstepped.”

  Roland snorted. “I overstepped.”

  Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “Not quite the same, I promise.”

  Roland’s stomach growled and he managed to take another bite of pizza and swallow it with minimal effort.

  “You won him back?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “He came back on his own.”

  Roland squeezed his eyes closed and dropped the pizza back down onto the cutting board. “I don’t see Donny coming back on his own.”

  Roland hated himself for that.

  “Then in the meantime, it’s a perfectly good opportunity to focus on Roland Wilson, isn’t it?”

  “I’m trying,” he choked out, his voice sounding much less certain of the plan than he’d felt earlier.

  “Same as I. That’s all you can do, honestly. And I think you know that.”

  Roland nodded reluctantly. “That’s the hard part.”

  A silence passed between them.

  Gabriel chuckled. “How’s painting?”

  Roland pushed his chair back and stood, gesturing over his shoulder with this thumb. “Want to see?”

  Gabriel’s eyes widened and he stood, smoothing his hands down the front of his slacks. “I’d be honored,” he said, following Roland down the hallway. “As you saw, I’m a fan.”

  Roland nodded.

  “I didn’t remember them looking so vibrant,” Roland said, pushing open the door to the studio, “The sunsets I mean. I’d forgotten.”

  “Time blurs memories.”

  Roland hummed an affirmative sound and gestured melodramatically to the studio space. “Well, here it is.”

  Gabriel stepped past him. “So this is where the brilliant Roland Wilson creates his masterpieces?”

  Roland snorted.

  Gabriel’s head snapped toward him and his eyes narrowed. “Do you really not see what a talented painter you are?”

  “Talent is subjective.”

  “As you like. What are those?” Gabriel asked, politely ignoring the destroyed flower canvas and gesturing toward the bubble-wrapped canvases in the corner.

  “They’re for a show on Saturday. Gallery 17 in Venice.”

  “Hmn,” Gabriel mused. “What are they though?”

  Roland closed his eyes and saw blue.

  “Sunrises. Four of them.”

  “Seasonal?” Gabriel inquired.

  Roland nodded.

  “I like it. Rebirth of the famed Roland Wilson.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Gabriel clapped a hand on Roland’s back, then turned and walked back to the living room, bypassing the table and heading for the front door.

  “You shouldn’t underestimate yourself.”

  Roland rolled his eyes and followed Gabriel to the door.

  “May I offer you some parting advice?” Gabriel cracked the door open, then tucked his hands into his pockets.

  “You may.”

  “Joel and Donny are very different people, but they both want the same thing. When Joel left me, I didn’t see a way to go on without him because he was such a large part of my world. I merely existed in limbo until Joel decided he wanted to be with me again.”

  “No offense, Gabriel, but that’s not entirely helpful.” Roland leaned against the open door as Gabriel stepped into the hallway.

  “Donny doesn’t want to be anyone’s entire world, nor does he want you to be his. If he’s anything like his sister, he loves fiercely and wholly, but only those who deserve it. So find a way to be deserving of it.”

  And with that, Gabriel turned and walked back to the elevators.

  “I’m trying,” Roland whispered, even though no one was there to hear.

  He pushed the door closed, then returned to his studio. The paint was still ready. He grabbed Donny’s sketchbook and studied it closely before he mixed some black into a cobalt blue and began to paint.

  Hours later, Roland stepped back, exhausted. Donny’s sketchbook was unfortunately now covered with paint, as he’d stopped repeatedly to trace his finger along the lines Donny had drawn so he could understand the shape more effectively before putting anything on the canvas.

  Roland dug out a clean brush, then added some white to enhance some of the curving lines, then dropped the sketchbook and brush to the ground. This was the first time in years, Roland felt overwhelmed with the intensity of art. He chewed his lips between his teeth and looked down at the open page of the sketchbook on the ground, then back at the canvas.

  This was something he could reconcile. The paper showed the Roland Donny saw, and the canvas exposed the self that Roland saw. Not the Roland he used to be, but the Roland he was now— the Roland he would always be. He was a jumbled mess of pieces that were part of the same set, but wouldn’t always fit together right.

  Roland dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his contacts. He scrolled past Donny’s name, even though his finger hovered for longer than it needed. He found the name he was looking for and dialed.

  “Doctor’s office.”

  “Uh, hi. My name is Roland Wilson and I need to speak with Dr. Constantin, please.”

  The following day, Roland stepped out of his new therapist’s office and into the sunlight. It was noon, and he needed to eat something. Dr. Constantin had quickly referred him to a therapist who could get him in on short notice. He wasn’t sure if seeing a therapist long term was going to be something that worked for him, but she’d been more than willing to discuss coping mechanisms to help Roland self-manage before he spiraled out of control again. Still, he’d made an appointment for the following week, just in case.

  Roland stopped at a street vendor selling fruit, and he bought a large container full of watermelon, jicama, cucumber, mango, and honeydew, then sprinkled a generous amount of chile, lemon, and salt on the top. He let the chile absorb into the watermelon before taking a bite. He savored the flavor as the salt and the lemon balanced the sweetness of the watermelon on his tongue. He hadn’t stopped for fruit from a vendor like this in years. It was far more delicious than he remembered.

  He walked while he ate, enjoying the sun and the breeze. He pulled his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt and put them on, noticing how painfully bright it was outside. Everything looked like it was in technicolor. The fruit itself was a rainbow of colors and textures. The swaying palm trees were a vibrant green against the manganese blue of the sky. Even the sun, a glaring, golden yellow shining down on the cloudless horizon.

  Roland’s eyes watered, and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging as the world zipped by around him, alive and engaged. He stopped at a bench and set his fruit down, then pulled out his phone.

  Roland: Today is a beautiful day. I still miss you.

  He slid his phone back into his pocket and quickly wiped at his eyes under the sunglasses. He picked up his fruit and ate it, smiling at the sky and blinking away silent tears that tasted both of happiness and loneliness.

  After he finished his snack, he shoved the package into a nearby trash can, gave his eyes one last wipe, then continued on his walk. Sometime later, he found himself stopped in front of a trendy barber shop. One of those places with dark red paint and free beer. He reached up and fingered his hair while he looked through the window. His hair had gotten long. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d trimmed it.

  Roland closed his eyes and recalled how good it’d felt when Donny shaved his beard off. Even on a downward slide, Roland had felt good with a fresh face. He walked inside.

  “Hey there, what can I do for ya?” a slender man with platinum blond hair asked him.

  Roland still had his fingers twisted into the ends of his hair and he held it up. “A trim?”

  The blond’s eyebrows raised and he chuckled. “I’ll say. Come on over and take a seat.'�
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  Roland situated himself on the chair and the blond threw a black cape over his shoulders and snapped it at the back of his neck.

  “What’s your name, man?”

  “Roland.”

  “Roland, cool. I’m Colin, nice to meet you." Colin finger combed his way through Roland’s hair. “So, just a trim? You sure you don’t want to take it all off?”

  “Yeah. Like, to here.” Roland gestured to his shoulder.

  Colin made small talk with him, but mostly he rambled to fill the silence and Roland appreciated that. Colin snipped away and trimmed, then the cape was unsnapped and Roland’s shoulders were dusted off and he was ready to go.

  He stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked the same, his hair just a few inches shorter than before, but he felt lighter. Roland paid Colin and then ordered an Uber on his phone to take him home.

  While he waited, he thought about what Gabriel said the night before.

  So find a way to be deserving…

  Roland understood a haircut wasn’t enough of an apology for Donny. The actual words—I’m sorry—weren’t even enough of an apology. Roland knew that to be deserving of Donny, he had to be the best version of himself. That was really all Donny had wanted for him anyway. And as he slid into the backseat of the Uber and started the ride home, he realized all the things he needed to do were for him and not for Donny. In order to be deserving of Donny, Roland needed to find the will within himself to live, rather than merely exist.

  Chapter 28

  Just Roland

  “I don’t think I want to be here,” Donny whispered to Athena, gripping her forearm tight between his fingers.

  It was Saturday, and his sister had managed to round him up, alongside Joel and Gabriel, and drag him to Gallery 17 for Roland’s show. Just being curbside, and knowing Roland was inside, made his stomach hurt.

  “Why not?” she asked him.

  “He broke up with me.”

  Gabriel shot Athena a look, and she glanced down at Donny. “From what I’ve heard, there wasn’t an actual breakup.”

  “He threw me the fuck out, Athena!” He glowered at his sister.

  “People fight, Adonis. It’s a fact of life, not the end of the world.” She shook her arm free and walked inside. Gabriel inclined his head toward the door and Joel dutifully trailed along. Donny remained outside.

  Gallery 17 was a small space just off Abbott-Kinney with large glass windows in front and tons of lights inside that illuminated the people milling around and fawning over Roland’s art. Donny’s heart felt happy that there were so many people here. He hoped Roland would finally see what everyone else saw when they looked at his work.

  He looked down at the ground and was knocked off balance when a large group pushed past him. There were nearly eight people in the group and they took up the entire sidewalk. Mostly men, and a few women, they were jovial and loud. Donny heard one voice louder than the rest, “Hey, wait.” No one waited, and one man fell behind from the pack. He stood a couple feet in front of Donny, facing the gallery. He offered a quick glance back toward his friends, then shook his head and went inside.

  Donny sympathized. That’s exactly how he’d felt the first time Roland showed him the sunrises. Like the colors in front of you were a gift, and you just needed to stop and appreciate them for as long as you could.

  He took a deep breath and a one step closer to the door, then stopped. The past week had been hard. The hardest. No matter what he did, he wasn’t able to escape the hollow feeling that had taken up residence inside his chest. He hadn’t eaten anything besides what Athena brought over for him, and he’d even been tempted to drink some of Gabriel’s whiskey on the one day she’d forced him out of the house.

  Pete was equally despondent— back to being ignored by Jack and Jill. Donny felt awful for taking him when Roland threw him out, but he’d been acting so volatile, and Donny wanted everyone to be safe and happy. At Donny’s, he and Pete were safe, but neither of them was happy.

  He saw a flash of red hair inside the gallery and recognized his sister and Joel as they walked across the space. He tracked them with his eyes until they reached their destination which was, of course, Roland. Athena wrapped him up tightly in her arms and he returned her hug with equal intensity, shifting his drink from one hand to another so he could squeeze her shoulders. In their time together, Roland had been receptive to Donny’s affection but was rarely a toucher himself.

  Roland set his drink down and grasped Athena’s biceps then stepped back, smiling at her, before he extended his hand to shake Joel’s and then offer a hug to Gabriel. The two men exchanged words, and Gabriel nodded and smiled. Then Roland laughed and smiled.

  If Donny had eaten anything today, he would have thrown it up all over his shoes right there on the sidewalk. The sight of Roland laughing would always be the most beautiful thing Donny had ever seen. The sight of Roland laughing when Donny was outside feeling like his heart had been removed from his body, though, that was the most excruciating feeling he’d ever known.

  Athena turned her head to the side while Roland and Gabriel were talking and she caught Donny’s eye and tilted her head toward the inside of the gallery. He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  He shouldn’t have come. Seeing Roland was too painful.

  Athena jabbed a finger in the air toward Donny, then jabbed it toward the ground at her feet. She gave him a look he was familiar with, and with no interest in making a scene, he swallowed his heartbreak and walked inside. Athena backtracked to the door when she saw him make a move, and thankfully met him under the threshold of the gallery.

  “It’s okay, Donny,” she cooed at him in the same voice she used with the cats.

  “He looks—” He stopped himself. He couldn’t force out the words.

  Better.

  Happy.

  Healthy.

  Less than twenty feet away, Roland looked like a brand new version of himself. A version of himself that was doing far better now than he was when Donny had been around. Even if they were to reconcile in the future, how could Donny even allow it, seeing how much stronger Roland was on his own?

  Gabriel materialized and slid a glass into Donny’s hand. He glanced down at it, then back up at Gabriel.

  “It’s not booze. Just ginger ale. You look like you’re going to vomit on everything here.”

  “I might,” Donny forced out, trying to muster a self-deprecating chuckle, but failing.

  “Gabriel!” Joel walked up to them and wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s waist. “Are you serious about buying the sunrise paintings, baby?”

  “If you like them, they’re yours,” Gabriel mused, pressing a kiss against Joel’s temple.

  “I do. But you guys really need to see the two paintings in the back!” Joel gestured over his shoulder toward the rear of the gallery. “Theenie, come with us.” He tugged on Athena’s skirt.

  “May I join you?” Gabriel asked.

  “You never need an invitation.” Joel smiled up at his boyfriend then turned and walked off with Athena. Gabriel lightly tapped the bottom of the glass, pushing it towards Donny’s mouth before he followed his boyfriend.

  Donny raised the glass and took a small sip. His throat was dry and the bubbles almost tickled as he swallowed. He was alone now, and he chewed his lip between his teeth, trying to look anywhere but his right. He knew Roland was over there. Besides that being the last place he’d seen him, he could feel Roland’s eyes on him.

  Donny’s heart rate accelerated and he took another quick sip of the ginger ale. What are you so afraid of? He’s better without you, so you’re going to have to be better without him. What did you think would happen? That he’d spiral down to a deeper rock-bottom after you went away? His brain scoffed at him. Don’t give yourself so much credit, kid.

  His eyes burned with unshed tears and he blinked them back, taking another drink. You can do this. He prepped himself, closed his eyes, then turned
his head to the right. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes when the weight of Roland’s stare felt like it would crush him.

  Roland smiled tentatively when he made eye contact with Donny. It wasn’t the kind of smile he’d given Athena and Gabriel earlier, but it wasn’t insincere. Donny rubbed his breastbone to make sure it hadn’t actually split apart. When he didn’t return the smile, Roland’s faltered, his eyes darting down Donny’s frame, taking in every part of his body. Roland’s face scrunched up in confusion, then flashed with regret before he resumed eye contact.

  Donny didn’t move, didn’t falter. He was surprised he hadn’t shattered the glass he was holding considering how tightly he was gripping it. Roland opened his mouth and took a step forward. Donny stayed rooted to the spot, his adrenaline spiking. He shook his head no, but Roland took another step forward anyway.

  It was one thing to be here, to see Roland so much better off without him, but Donny couldn’t hear the words. He couldn’t bear to have confirmation of Roland’s well being, and he hated himself for that. Of course he wanted Roland happy and healthy. But he wanted Roland happy, and healthy, and in his life.

  Roland dared another step closer anyway, and another, but before he could close the distance, he was intercepted by a gallery-goer.

  “Roland?” Donny heard the voice, and it echoed in his head, matching up to the person he’d seen outside. He assessed the stranger, with his gray slacks and his black button-down shirt. Who fucking dressed like that on a weekend? He was even more overdressed than Roland who was wearing dark jeans and a simple white v-neck shirt.

  He’d cut his hair.

  Donny noticed as Roland’s head snapped around to look at the stranger, his hair barely to his shoulders now. It waved and was still an unbearably beautiful brown that had haunted Donny’s every waking moment for the past week.

  “C-Cody?”

  Roland was close enough that Donny could hear the tremor in his voice, and the name echoed so loudly in his ears it was as though everyone else in the gallery had gone silent. Donny swallowed thickly as the stranger, Cody, stepped closer to Roland.