The Art of Love

by Max Hudson

  “I met him in Berlin. Oh, darling he was so handsome. It’s a good thing he’s not here,” she said as she hung up a gorgeous photo of a street scene. “You’d drop Aris in a hot minute.”

  She set up a little desk in her room for her work, but often made herself scarce. “I want you to have your space,” she explained. I took advantage of the empty house and used it to read. I had quite a collection of books by then and had settled into what I called cop fiction—books with a police officer or detective as a central character. I even turned Blanche onto a few.

  When I wasn’t reading, I would invite Aris over and we would watch a movie, cook, or make love. My heart felt so full I was certain it would burst. I would look around my colorful house, smell the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen, see my gorgeous Aris putting flowers on the table or washing the dishes, and almost cry. I’d had no idea this kind of life could be mine.

  “You know,” Aris reminded me one morning, “my big unveiling is coming in a few days. It’s the beginning of Pride.”

  “That’s right!” I carried the salad out to the table and sat down. “I’m not working at it this year. That means I can just go and enjoy it.” I served him a big helping of the tossed greens and then helped myself. “Are you giving a speech or anything?”

  “The mayor asked me to speak.” He talked with his mouth full, but he put his hand in front of it so as not to be rude. His politeness just highlighted his sexiness to me. “Will you go to City Hall with me?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” We kissed and settled comfortably into our dinner. At that time, I truly felt like everything was perfect and always would be as long as I was with Aris.

  Pride rolled around on a Friday morning and I woke up with something bothering me. I went over all my responsibilities from the past several days in my head as I stood in the shower, but I couldn’t figure out what it was that was digging at me. Shrugging it off, I stepped out to find Aris making coffee.

  “Oh, you’re my angel. You ready for your big day?”

  “I’m practically shaking.” He took a deep breath and looked out the window. “Maybe an alien spacecraft will show up and distract everyone from my speech.”

  I nodded. “Sure. It could happen. Or,” I stood up and went over to him, planting a big kiss on his cheek, “you could nail it. I know you. You shine when you talk about your work. Your paintings are gorgeous. Be proud of them.”

  “You’re the best.” He turned to kiss me and we held each other’s faces as we pressed our lips together, loving the feeling of it. “I’m so glad you’re going to be there,” he said leaning on me. “I hear Clive is going to be there and I don’t want to face him alone.”

  I groaned. “Clive? Great.” After a parting kiss, I took our dishes to the sink then went to finish getting ready in the bathroom. Over my shoulder I called back, “His arraignment got pushed back again. It could be awhile before he’s even officially charged.”

  Aris walked in and checked his reflection, running his fingers through his hair. “Try not to think about it.” He gave me a slap on the butt and then went to pick out a shirt while I focused on shaving.

  As I expected, City Hall was packed. There were even protesters standing on the front steps with signs that read things like, “No porn in federal buildings!” or “Keep liberalism out!” The sight of them just reminded me that there was something wrong, but again, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The crowd seemed peaceful enough; they seemed to be made up of older parents, maybe some church leaders. I left them behind while they chanted something or other and went inside to find Aris.

  He’d gone on ahead of me to check in with the mayor about the ceremony and meet his assistants who had brought the pieces. He was talking to a few officials when I got there but waved at me when I got in. I waved back and planted myself near the front. If anything was about to go wrong, I didn’t want to be stuck in the back when it went down.

  The crowd that day was very mixed. The majority were attractive young people in their twenties and early thirties. They all had on T-shirts with rainbows or multi-colored wigs. Some even wore unicorn horns. Everyone looked happy and excited to be there. And yet, something just kept insisting to me that I was on the verge of disaster.

  Then I caught something out of the corner of my eye—a couple standing and holding hands. It was Clive and a man I didn’t know. They were oddly quiet and still. “So,” I thought, “Clive’s metamorphosis continues.”

  Just as I wanted to walk over and make my presence known, the mayor approached the microphone.

  “Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming today and happy Pride to you all!” He spread his arms out to indicate the crowd as they all cheered and whooped. I liked the mayor fine, but something about him seemed almost cartoonish as if he’d been born an old politician and skipped childhood altogether.

  “I am so thrilled to celebrate this week with you and even more thrilled to have a member of the LGBTQIA community and fabulous artist here with me today. Everyone, please give a big round of applause to our guest, Mr. Aris Kahn.”

  Again, the crowd went wild and I found myself struggling to clap with them. Something just wasn’t right. As I scanned the room, I locked eyes with Clive and he gave me a glare which I countered with a smile and big wave. He shook his head in exaggerated disgust and then whispered something to his date, who regarded me with a smirk. At least they knew they were being watched.

  Aris took his place at the mic and smiled at everyone. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re too kind.” He flashed me a look and I gave him a big grin. “When I started this piece, I wanted to focus on the emotion of love. It’s universal, it’s something we all seek out in our lives, and I believe, it’s an essential part of life. Without love, we all suffer…”

  As the speech went on, I got a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Simon and gave him a big hug. “Hey! Where have you been, stranger? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “I had to be here,” he whispered. “After all, we’re the truth tellers, you and me.” He nodded to himself and breathed deeply.

  “Oh. Sure.” I turned back to face Aris but felt a bit shaken by Simon’s presence. What on earth was up with him?

  I spotted Blanche coming in a side door and waved her over. She waved back, and just as she started to make her way across the room, I saw that she was headed straight for Clive, who also noted her arrival. My heart sped up. Something was very wrong. Clive reached into his jacket just as she approached. A few people were between the two of them so Blanche couldn’t see, but I had a clear view. I took a step forward.

  “Blanche! Blanche!” I whispered loudly, interrupting Aris. He cleared his throat and gave me an annoyed look. I held my hands up in apology and he started again.

  “So, this triptych is meant to show a spectrum of love in several different forms. I’m very proud of it and I hope they’ll mean as much to you as they do to me.”

  The big, white cloths covering the paintings fell to the floor. Blanche was one step from walking right into Clive and he was pulling his hand out of his jacket. I had to act. Without hesitating, I pushed the people near me out of the way and sprinted to Clive. I tackled him low, getting him to the ground.

  “Drop it!”

  “Drop what, you psychopath?” He instantly started crying. “I just wanted to give her this.” He held out a small book of photos. “She’s my friend!”

  Blanche ran over. “Mark, what are you doing?”

  And then I heard it.

  A horrible scream and a sizzling sound. The gasps of the crowd and Aris choking in disbelief. Then a voice I knew all too well cried out, “I am the destroyer! The teller of truths! My truth is that art is dead!”

  It was Simon. He’d brought in a bottle of sulfuric acid and rushed the paintings as soon as everyone was looking at me and Clive. The first piece on the wall was destroyed slowly from the left side over, taking the frame with it as the security guards grabbed S
imon and took him out of the hall. The protesters outside applauded him when they saw what he’d done.

  I looked down at Clive and quickly let him go. “Clive, I’m sorry. I thought you had a weapon. It was a mistake.”

  “I’m suing you!” His voice was screechy and hoarse like a teenager’s during the worst parts of puberty. His boyfriend picked him up and dusted him off. “You’re a bully! All cops are power-hungry idiots! I can’t wait to see you in jail!”

  “Let’s step outside,” the other guy said. I started to apologize again but he cut me off with a quick head shake. The two walked out and I stood in their place with Blanche who regarded me with a pale face and open mouth.

  “Darling, what on earth is going on?”

  “I thought he was going to attack you. He was acting strange and then he reached into his jacket. I’m really sorry.”

  She nodded and let out a long breath. “Well, you were right about one thing. There was an attack.” She gestured to the front where the first painting was just a scrap on the wall and a second was half eaten by the acid, the paint peeling away and leaving a scorched white wall behind it. Aris stood by the third, regarding it carefully and then waving his assistants over to take it down.

  “I better go make sure he’s okay.” I patted Blanche on the back and went to see Aris, but he kept his back to me.

  “Aris, are you all right?”

  No answer. I watched as the team got the remains of the second painting down and then all of them, Aris included, headed outside. I waited a moment while they got the third piece safely into a delivery van and then followed.

  “Sweetheart, please talk to me. Just tell me if you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine.” He crossed his arms and worked his jaw back and forth. My stomach sank low in my torso.

  “Aris, please, I really thought—”

  “You didn’t think at all.” He spun around to face me with his arms straight down and hands balled into fists. “All you did was assume. I tried to tell you that Clive was just upset the time he went after you. That’s not the real him. He’s not like that. But all you saw when you looked at him was a criminal.”

  “That’s not true,” I tried, but he turned away in disgust.

  “I cannot believe you were so caught up with Clive and this weird notion you have of him that you couldn’t even see what was really going on with Simon. The guy was right next to you and you were busy taking out a grad student by the knees.”

  “Aris, it wasn’t like that. You didn’t see how he was acting. And he’s pretending to be someone he isn’t again. The guy is shifty.”

  “He’s figuring out who he is.” Aris climbed into the front seat of the van on the passenger side and slammed the door. “I don’t know if we can see each other again, Mark. This is a bit more than I can deal with.”

  “No! Aris, please, just let me tell you what happened.”

  He turned to me with fire in his eyes. “I saw what happened. The man I trusted more than anyone let me down. And someone I thought of as a friend turned out to be an enemy and destroyed two of my best pieces. Trust me, it’s all very clear.”

  The car started and then pulled away before I could say anything else. I stood on the sidewalk and watched him leave. The sound of the van pulling away hummed in my ears for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Eleven

  The judge’s gavel banged loudly in the small claims court. I had a line of people behind me all waiting to be addressed by the honorable Judge Smith, a middle-aged woman with a permanent frown. She was known for being tough but patient. She folded her hands on her desk and gave me a nod which I returned. She then looked over at Clive who was at the second podium.

  “Mr. Hartford. You are charged with the aggravated assault of an officer and trespassing. Today I’m going to hear from you as well as Detective Upton and then I’ll make a decision. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “Detective?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “All right then. Mr. Hartford, I understand you went to an ex-boyfriend’s house to find something you had misplaced?”

  “Your honor,” Clive started in, his face red, “I just want to say that this officer recently attacked me in a public place. I have several eyewitnesses who were only inches away when it happened and one of them has it on their phone. If I could just show you—”

  “Let me stop you right there.” The judge leaned forward and adjusted a bit in her chair. Clive didn’t know it, but that meant she was ready to smack him with a bit of procedure. “This trial is about your trespassing and assault charge. If you have a separate charge that you would like to press against Detective Upton, that’s a different trial. Now, if you continue to use our time together to talk about irrelevant matters—”

  “Irrelevant?” Clive put his hands to his mouth in disbelief, then waved them around as he spoke. “The man is out of control! He tackled me for trying to give someone a gift!”

  “Mr. Hartford!” The judge sat back with a long, exasperated sigh. “I need to ask you to please control yourself. Can you do that for me?”

  He nodded as he kept a white-knuckle grip on the podium. “All right,” the judge continued, “I’m going to let you calm down while I talk to the detective. That means only he talks for the moment, we clear on that?”

  “Yes, your honor,” he mumbled. Clive crossed his arms and kept his eyes down.

  “All right, Detective,” she said, putting her face on her hand, “you’re up.”

  “Actually, Judge Smith, I wonder if I might speak with you privately in chambers. If that’s okay with you.”

  She gave me a quick look out the corner of her eyes and then nodded. “Sure. Come on back, Detective.”

  A bailiff opened a side door and I followed the judge through it while Clive let out a huff of disbelief. We stepped through and the door closed behind us.

  The judge’s office was extremely small, just barely large enough for a meager desk and two chairs. Not even a bookshelf fit inside. She perched on the edge of her desk and looked at me. “All right, Mark,” she said, amused, “what have you got?”

  “Actually, I wanted to ask if you could try this as a misdemeanor. The kid’s right, I did take him down when I mistakenly thought he was pulling out a weapon. It was a separate incident and I really feel bad about it.”

  “What made you think he was a danger?”

  I explained the whole day to her and she listened patiently, nodding the whole time. When I finished, she tucked her chin down and thought about it. “Okay,” she said finally, “I think I’ve got a good handle on it.”

  “Thanks, Cheryl.”

  “You got it. Will I see you at Pinkerton’s BBQ?”

  “You will.”

  We stepped out and went back into the courtroom where a very agitated Clive was waiting for us with pursed lips. He seemed to be fighting back the screams that were inside him just waiting to get out.

  “All right, Mr. Hartford. The detective and I just had a little chat and he’s asked me to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor, which I am happy to do as you have no priors. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Uh,” Clive looked down at his notes but found nothing helpful, “no. Sorry.”

  “It means you won’t be going to prison but rather doing some community service. It says here you’re a sculptor?”

  “I am. Yes.”

  “Great. I sentence you to six weeks of community service in the minimum-security county prison. I’ll let them know you would be happy to teach an art class to prisoners who are so inclined to study with you. Please report to them next Monday at eight a.m. Any questions?”

  His mouth dropped open and he looked at me, but then quickly addressed the judge. “No. No questions. Thank you. Thank you, your honor.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hartford. Don’t let me see you back here. Next case.” Another gavel bang and it was over.

  Clive walked up to me after the dec
ision, still in a state of disbelief. “Um, I guess you did that for me. Right?”

  “Yeah. I hope you can forgive my presumptions about you at Pride. I let my history with you cloud my judgement and that’s not okay. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “Me too.” Then he walked away and out the door as quickly as he could.

  Back home, I fell onto the couch in a state of complete exhaustion. I heard Blanche typing away on her computer, but as I came in she paused.

  “Mark? That you?”

  “No, it’s Margaret Atwood.”

  She walked out with a smile on her face. “Margaret! You’re looking lovely!” She patted my feet so I would pick them up and then sat in their place. “What’s got you down, darling?”

  I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head back and forth. “I just miss him so much. I can’t believe how badly it hurts. It’s unbearable.”

  “Oh, my poor darling.” She patted my leg. “Can I get you some tea? That always helps me when I’m down.”

  “Sure.” She stood to walk to the kitchen and then called out, “Red or chamomile?”

  “Red, please. The spicy one.” I listened to her get the kettle going and pull down the teacups and it all stung just a little. I used to listen to Aris puttering around the kitchen when he would come over. It always endeared him to me just a little more. I loved the way he chatted to himself as he cooked or made the morning coffee. Blanche worked silently but it was a friendly, focused quiet. Nothing cold.

  “Here we are.” She came back with two cups and we both sat and drank from them for a bit. I turned to her.

  “Blanche, will you do me the insane favor of coming to a barbecue with me?”

  “Possibly.” She took another drink. “Whose is it?”

  “A colleague, a really lovely man I’ve known for years. We get along really well and I’m sure the party will be fun, but I just don’t want to go alone. I asked Aris if he would go with me, but he isn’t speaking to me.”