by E M Lindsey
Derek closed his eyes, breathed in, then opened them as he released it all. “We can talk about it.”
It seemed to pacify Sage enough for the moment. “There’s something else though,” he said, and though his tone was hesitant, he didn’t give Derek time to think. “I met someone I think you’d like, and I want you to consider going on a date with him.”
Derek sat up a little straighter, his brows dipping into a frown. “You didn’t promise him I’d…”
“No,” Sage said, putting up his hands in surrender. “I’m an asshole, but I’m not an asshole. He goes to my gym.”
Derek pulled a face. “Okay, that’s so not my type.”
“He’s an accountant,” Sage replied with a tiny knowing smile. “But he also works out with me a few times a week, and he’s hot as hell. I also know for a fact he’d be interested in you.”
Derek bristled at that because it meant the guy had hit on Sage, and since Sage wasn’t ready to date, he was just punting his cast-offs toward his twin. “I don’t know, man. If he’s into you, then he won’t like me.”
“He isn’t,” Sage told him, crossing his arms. “I mean, he thinks I’m hot, which is a big plus for you, but he and I have been talking over the last few months and he’s into all the crap you are. Same music, same art shit, same movies. Here let me…” Sage grunted as he twisted his hips up and dug his phone out of his pocket. He tapped at his screen for a few seconds, then displayed a Facebook photo of a fit guy with tanned skin and dark curls under a backward cap. He was wearing a muscle shirt and tight jeans, and his smile was very bright. Sage hadn’t been lying—the guy was very attractive. Unfortunately, Derek’s mind was slightly occupied with someone else, and it was hard for him to focus on someone who wasn’t Basil.
“You said he’s an accountant? So why isn’t he into you? You know, with all the math shit?”
Sage laughed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, dude. I mean, he’s cool with numbers, but I don’t think he wants to like sit and talk quarterly reports at the end of the night or anything. Just…just think about it, okay? Let me know, and if you want to give it a try, I’ll help set something up.”
Derek knew he should at least consider it. He had no promises, no prospect of a future at all with Basil. He’d delivered the drawing and the guy had been utterly perfect, but it was the second time Derek walked away without a number. And hell, they could be friendly now, and there was every chance they’d see each other in passing, but he couldn’t count on there ever being more.
It was foolish to think he’d stumbled on some epic romance that was written in the stars. It only made sense to let Sage do this for him. He certainly wasn’t any good at doing it for himself. He took a breath, then met his brother’s gaze. “Go ahead,” he all-but grunted.
Sage looked momentarily startled, then chanced a tentative smile. “Seriously?”
Derek sighed, letting his head fall back again. “Seriously. Might as well rip the bandage off, right? So just…if he wants to, yeah. Let’s do it. You can give him my number or whatever and it…it could be good, right?”
“Right,” Sage said. He reached out and gave Derek’s wrist a gentle squeeze, right where Basil had touched him before, and he suppressed the urge to tug his hand away because he didn’t want to lose the ghost of that comfort just yet. But he didn’t. “It could be really good.”
Basil had been dodging both texts and Facebook messages from Jay who seemed to think that although Basil had run out on him, he was owed a chance to do the date over. The very thought made his stomach squirm, and he threw himself into work, staying late nearly every day the week after Derek had brought Kevin by the shop.
It was hanging in his office for now, and he found himself working on some digital arrangements, but mostly staring at the near-perfect sweeps and smudges of charcoal that somehow brought the drawing to life. It was almost as though Basil could reach up, and the octopus would uncurl a tentacle and wrap it around him.
Seeing Derek in the shop like that had startled him in a way he hadn’t expected, and his face when he’d been talking about his father had nearly shattered Basil in two. He didn’t have to be well-versed in reading expression to see the pain in Derek’s eyes, to know that he’d suffered more than a person rightfully should, and Basil had only just managed to suppress his urge to take Derek in his arms and hold him until he smiled again.
Still, he wanted to do something. Not just to cheer Derek up, but maybe to introduce himself to the shop, to meet the others and experience it. He wasn’t exactly vying for a tattoo, but he was half considering throwing together a bouquet—something highly fragrant for the front of the shop, and using that as a way in.
Maybe he’d be obvious, but at this point, he wasn’t sure that he cared. He didn’t think he’d ever go for a hearing guy again—especially one not fluent in ASL, but he found himself wanting to make some kind of effort. Friends for sure. Friends was safe, at least. Friends was far easier to leave when it all eventually became too much.
Without really thinking about it, Basil moved to the back room and began to carefully arrange something to bring over to Irons and Works the following afternoon. He had some white Hyacinth and some Boronia already cut, and he tucked those between sprigs of Jasmine and as an afterthought, added a yellow rose in the center. It was hardly the prettiest bouquet he’d made, but when he tipped his nose low over it, the fragrance was gentle, but lingering. He wasn’t sure any of them would appreciate it, but he could only hope.
When he was finished, he tucked the bouquet in the cooler, then resolved to grab it around lunch and sneak out without his sister realizing what he was up to.
Dodging Ama was easier than he anticipated, as they had a large group of bridesmaids come in for some bouquet tests right around noon, and Basil was able to grab the flowers and sneak off to the shop without his sister being the wiser. He felt a little foolish, hurrying down the street with the bouquet tucked in his arms, but he ignored the curious stares in passing cars and pedestrians, and made his way to the little shopping center around the corner.
He could see the tattoo shop from the parking lot, and he hesitated before crossing the pavement and heading to the door. He saw the little glowing orange Open sign in the window which sat next to a horizontal blinking sign which read TATTOO in bold capital letters. The window was all-but covered in pasted advertisements for local bands, skateboarding competitions, tattoo expos, and piercing parlors. But beyond that, he could also make out a quaint shop with a small lobby, a front desk, and beyond that, what looked like partially sectioned off stalls with chairs and tables.
He took a breath then entered the shop, and over the counter, a tall woman with long black hair stared at him curiously. Her mouth was moving, but her wide smile made it hard for him to begin to understand what she was saying, so he quickly set the bouquet down on the table and pulled out his phone for the customary, pre-written greeting he kept saved.
Hi, I’m Deaf, I hope typing is okay. After a second, he added, I’m look for Derek.
She took the phone, read the message, then carefully set it down before signing with beginner’s speed, ‘My name is Katherine, is it okay to use ASL?’
Basil was startled for a second, then remembered about Derek’s boss and his daughter, so he shouldn’t have been too surprised. ‘ASL is fine, thank you,’ he answered.
‘My daughter is hard of hearing,’ she signed to him. So, she must be the wife, the mother of the child. ‘I’m taking ASL 3 now and I’m still slow, sorry.’
‘You’re perfect,’ he corrected her with a smile. ‘Your daughter will have great parents.’
She flushed, glancing away for a second like she couldn’t take the compliment. When she looked back, her green eyes were a little watery, but he did her the courtesy of pretending not to notice. ‘Are you here for an appointment?’
He shook his head. ‘No. I met Derek and wanted to bring him…’ he glanced back at the flowers and waved his hand at
them. ‘Is he here today?’
‘He’s in the back giving a consultation,’ she said, spelling the last word. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here. Can you wait?’
Basil hesitated. This wasn’t exactly the plan, but he was also barging in on Derek’s work day, so assuming he’d be free at the drop of a hat was unfair. And running again was doubly so. ‘I can wait.’
Katherine grinned at him, but instead of heading to the back, she walked through the low swinging door and moved to the tall bookshelf which held dozens of black photo albums. She studied them all carefully before selecting one near the top, then turned and held it out for him. When he took it, she signed, ‘That’s Derek’s work if you want to have a look. He’s really good.’
Basil fought the urge to remind her that he wasn’t there for a tattoo. He didn’t want to commit some sort of tattoo faux pas and shoot this thing dead before it began. ‘Thank you,’ he finally signed, then sank onto the soft leather couch and opened it to the first page.
His breath immediately caught in his throat. Basil didn’t live in a cave, he wasn’t a complete recluse, and Derek’s tattoo work wasn’t the first he’d ever seen. But it was the first time he’d ever been instantly drawn in and captivated. The work in the book was a mixture of sketches on paper and photographs of people’s bodies, but every single one of them seemed to come alive on the page. They were almost nothing like his work in his gallery, and yet he could see familiarity in all the lines and shapes and shades that it was like looking at a piece of Derek himself.
When someone touched his arm, Basil jumped, staring up almost guiltily as he saw Derek hovering a foot away. He shut the book with what he hoped was a quiet gesture, then rose to his feet feeling a little bit foolish now. Derek’s gaze was welcoming, but a little confused, and Basil couldn’t blame him.
Before Basil could explain, Derek held out a little post-it with a note across the top. Was something wrong with Kevin?
Basil couldn’t help but smile at the name for such an elegant creature, and he shook his head. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed his reply. I’m want to tell thank you, bring bouquet you.
He watched Derek smile at the message and give a startled glance to the vase on the table, and Basil became distinctly aware that Derek hadn’t once attempted to question or correct his terrible English in writing. Basil could do it—he was a college graduate and had gotten by just fine in all his writing exams, but switching in his head from ASL to English was just more effort than he ever wanted to make, and sticking somewhere closer in the middle was just easier.
Hearing people always wanted him to do better, but Derek had simply accepted it for what it was. He hadn’t tried to dumb down his own writing either, like so many people did who assumed that because Basil didn’t write it the same way, he couldn’t understand it. It meant something, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.
When he finally looked back at Derek, the other man was smiling, then tipped his hand from his chin. ‘Thank you. Beautiful.’
Basil felt his cheeks flush, and he reached over to pat the tattoo book and repeated the sign, exaggerating it in hopes Derek would understand exactly what that meant. ‘Very beautiful.’
Derek’s blush matched his own, and he ducked his head a little shyly, shrugging off the compliment. He held up his hand for a second, then rushed over to where Katherine was sitting, and leaned fully over the counter. Basil couldn’t help himself from taking in a full view of the man’s ass—gloriously round and looked like it would comfortably rest in both of his palms—before Derek eased back down to the floor and returned with a small notepad and a pen.
Is this okay?
Basil grinned and shrugged, spreading his fingers and tapping his thumb on his chest while mouthing, ‘Fine.’
Derek scribbled again. Do you want a tour? I don’t have any clients until three. I can show you my stall and my works in progress.
Basil hated that he couldn’t just sign, but it was what it was. He took the pen from him to answer. Your art here? You keep here? Paintings?
Derek shook his head. I have my art studio in my apartment, this is just my tattoo work. It’s fine if you’re not interested.
Basil quickly grabbed his arm and shook his then signed, ‘Show me,’ hoping he made the right form with his lips.
Derek seemed to understand, because he blushed shyly again, but reached for the swinging door and held it open, gesturing for Basil to step inside. He did, feeling a little like a fish in a bowl with the way Katherine was watching him, and he was suddenly and profoundly grateful no one else was there working.
He turned to see Derek securing the door, then he looked up and smiled so sweetly, it made Basil’s chest ache. He took a moment to gather himself, then followed Derek to the first little cubby which was sectioned off by three waist-high partition walls to give a small amount of privacy on the sides. Within the partition walls was something that looked like a folded massage table, a desk with a bright drawing board, then a massive tool box covered in various, brightly decorated stickers. Along the far wall was a pin board and it was covered from end to end with all of Derek’s work.
‘Wow,’ Basil signed as he leaned toward the drawings. He turned to Derek and pointed at him, then at the wall and dipped his brows. ‘Yours?’
Derek nodded, looking shy all over again. What’s the sign for flower?
Basil showed him and smiled when Derek copied it almost flawlessly. Holding a finger up, Derek turned to a small cabinet in the corner of his stall and came away with another book. It was a large, leather-bound sketch book, and he motioned for Basil to take a seat while he plopped down onto a backless rolling stool.
For a second, it felt a little like a dentist’s office, and then he looked up into Derek’s soft, smiling face and suddenly it felt like the most intimate thing Basil had done in years. Derek shifted closer, until he was right alongside Basil, and he spread the book over their thighs which had pressed together.
Basil couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his chest, stuttering in his lungs. The first page was a cascade to rival even the hanging gardens of Babylon. The outlines of the sketches were pencil, and watercolor decorated each and every bursting blossom, covering so much of the page that the bits of white left over were almost startling.
He couldn’t help himself, he traced around the edges of the bright reds, and blues, and oranges with the tip of his finger as though he might be able to somehow feel the petals. He looked up at Derek, and he saw something in his eyes akin to fear or insecurity that Basil couldn’t allow.
He scrambled for the paper which Derek had set on his desk and scribbled furiously. I don’t know arts, but this…Derek. So beautiful, it make chest hurt, want tears fall. He pressed the center of his palm to where his heart was thudding rapidly against his ribs and made sure he was meeting Derek’s gaze fully. ‘Beautiful,’ he signed.
Swallowing thickly, Derek acknowledged this with a nod of his head, then turned the page to show more of his work. The first few were more flowers, a few birds, a stretch of mountains. The rest were in something like art nouveau, something you’d see in a gallery, and Basil couldn’t imagine how he could transfer that onto someone’s skin.
He turned to the last page and stopped. There was a single sketch there, nothing spectacular or remarkable. It was a white flower with a stringy center, the thin petals in rows and rows. It was nothing they carried in the shop, but something struck him about it—an old memory trying to claw its way to the surface.
He tapped the page, then looked up at Derek and signed, ‘What?’
Reaching for the notepad, Derek wrote for a long moment. It’s my favorite. Night-Blooming Cereus. It’s a flower on cactus and it only blooms at night, so it’s really rare to see them, but their smell is amazing. I saw one once at this botanical garden when Sage and I were younger. When my dad… Anyway, I went home and drew it, but it didn’t look right, so I kept going until I was happy. I threw it in my book, but no o
ne ever wants that tattoo.
Basil closed his eyes for a moment against his will, shutting out everything but the moment from his childhood. He’d been five, maybe six, and his mother had pulled him out of bed well into the early, dark hours of the morning.
‘I want you to see this, okay?’ she told him, her hands flying in the light of the full moon. They crept across the flagstones to her succulent garden and she tugged him to his knees. The cactus itself was unremarkable. Faded green in long cylindrical barrels that reached up from the main stalk. It didn’t look covered in thorns like so many of the others, there was a sheen to it like it might be soft to touch. He didn’t though. He’d learned his lesson years ago at the hands of her garden that many of the most beautiful were also the most dangerous.
He started to fidget, impatient, and then the half-formed white flowers along the side began to open. It felt like an eternity, but when they did, his mother urged him forward, and he was overwhelmed with the scent. To this day, nothing had compared, nothing had come close, and he hadn’t been able to describe it.
‘This is you,’ his mother had told him. ‘Waiting for your chance to bloom, and maybe not everyone will see it, but the ones who do will appreciate the magic you can bring.’
He forced his eyes to open, to shake that off because he was about to become overwhelmed. He felt a fierce, hollow ache in his chest from missing her so damn much right in that moment, because she would have loved this.
He reached out, tracing his finger around the flower, then looked back up at Derek. ‘Thank you.’
‘You OK?’ Derek signed.
Basil almost laughed, only because there were no real words for what he was feeling. Instead he splayed out his fingers and tapped his thumb on his chest, mouthing along with the sign, ‘Fine.’
It was obvious Derek didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push either and for that, Basil was eternally grateful. He carefully handed the book back and started to rise, but before he could take a step away, Derek touched him on the arm and handed over the notebook.