My Heart Skips a Beat

by E. L. Todd

  Sometimes I wondered if it was meant to happen. I’d been with hot girls before, but I’d never been with someone that I wanted to have again. Trinity fed me in a way no other girl could. I was satisfied but needed more all at once. She told me off when I deserved it, and she loved me when I didn’t love myself. She stood up for me and didn’t let people bring me down, but she would be the first person to tell me if I was wrong.

  My conversation with Cayson came back to me. I said I never wanted to get married, and I still felt that way. It was just a slip of paper that allowed the government to keep better track of you. It was a practice our civilization started a long time ago, the meaning of why still not very clear. It was dogma that people practiced blindly. If people were meant to marry, then why did half of marriages end in divorce?

  What I wanted more than anything was our relationship to stay exactly the same. The only difference I wanted was to move in with her. If I came home to her every day, I’d be happy. I didn’t want kids and didn’t think I ever would, but Trinity and I didn’t need them. As long as we had each other, we had everything we needed.

  Trinity understood me better than anyone else. She knew how I felt about most topics. She knew I could only give her so much. At this moment in time, I’d given her everything I possessed. I gave her more than I realized I was capable of. Trinity appreciated that knew it and knew it was a testament of my love. In the beginning of our relationship, I wasn’t even sure if I could be monogamous with her. But now I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. And I’d die if she wanted to be with someone new.

  My whole life I kept looking to the future, telling myself things would get better and there was so much to look forward to. My life could always improve. But now I was in a point in my life where it couldn’t get better. Everything was perfect. Trinity and I had a perfect relationship that existed on unbreakable layers of foundation. She was my friend just as much as she was my lover. I felt bad for Cayson and Skye. Even at their best moment in their relationship, their level of happiness couldn’t compete with what I shared with Trinity. I always thought they knew exactly what they were doing.

  The truth was, Trinity and I had everything down. And everyone wanted to be more like us.

  Chapter Twenty

  Roland

  Heath opened the door with a smile on his face. “Just in time. There was an interception.”

  “No way, “ I said. “Who?”

  “Packers.” He opened the door wider and allowed me entry.

  I walked inside with the case of beer in my hands. His apartment had hardwood floors and expansive windows that faced the nearby buildings. His living room had three couches, and his kitchen opened to the living room. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How many bedrooms is it?”

  “Two.”

  “Do you have a room mate?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Just me.”

  I carried the beer into the kitchen. “I hope you like Blue Moon.”

  “I like anything.” He helped me tear down the box and put the beers in the refrigerator. “Your sister wasn’t upset you ditched her?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I forgot to tell her.”

  He chuckled. “She probably won’t notice your absence anyway.”

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

  “I got pizza on the way.”

  My mood picked up again. “Ooh…I like pizza.”

  He opened his beer then went into the living room.

  I followed behind him then sat in one of the chairs. “Holy shit.” I sunk into the cushion and felt like I was lying on a cloud.

  “What?” He drank his beer then placed it on a coaster.

  “This is, like, the most comfortable couch I’ve ever sat on.”

  He grinned and watched the TV. “I fall asleep on them all the time.”

  “Where did you get them?”

  “Macy’s.”

  “Damn, I’m going to Macy’s when I get my new place.”

  “When will that be?” he asked.

  “As soon as I start getting paid the big bucks.” I made a money-loving gesture with my hand.

  “Then it won’t be long,” Heath said.

  I kicked off my shoes then lay on the couch. I noticed a painting on the wall. It was of a pasture on a sunny afternoon. Sheep were in a hurdle in the left side of the picture, and a humble house was in the distance. A man in a flannel shirt and boots was heading toward the sheep. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

  “A painting,” he said coolly.

  “Is it of Ireland?”

  “Actually, it is.”

  “Is that what your house looked like?”

  “It’s an exact replica,” Heath answered.

  “Who painted it?”

  “I did.” He kept watching the TV.

  I sat up and stared at him incredulously. “You painted that?”

  “Yeah.” He said it like there wasn’t anything to be proud of.

  “It’s really good,” I said. “If I saw that at the MET I would have thought it belonged there.”

  His cheeks tinted slightly. “Well, thank you. Painting is the love of my life.”

  I stared at the picture again. “Ireland looks like a beautiful place.”

  “It really is.” He released a deep sigh.

  “Is that your dad in the flannel shirt?”

  “Yep.” He eyed it for a moment before he turned back to the TV.

  “Do you have any other paintings?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I see them…?” Or was I being rude?

  He turned his eyes on me, and looked disbelieving. “You want to?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “If they look anything like that, of course.”

  He put his beer down then headed into the other room. Then he retrieved a few canvas panels then leaned them against the couch. “They are my more recent ones.”

  I stood up and looked through them. One was the skyline of Manhattan. The lights looked like the city was on fire. The top of the buildings created a line that stretched out to the bridge in the distance. It was impressive. “Is this from your window?”

  He nodded as he stood beside me.

  I examined the next one. It was the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. It reached high into the sky, and a million lights were decorated on its branches. Ornaments shined in the light. People were gathered around, but the center of view was a family of three. It looked like a mother and father with their young son. They were bundled up in their thick coats and boots. Puddles of snow were on the ground. “Who are they?”

  He shrugged. “Strangers.”

  When I looked at the painting, I didn’t feel joy or the usual Christmas spirit. In fact, I felt loneliness and emptiness. I knew Heath watched this family, knowing he couldn’t be with his own. And that made me sad. “I’m sorry…”

  When he turned his gaze on me, it was unreadable. We just shared a look silently. His eyes were difficult to decipher. They were blue like the sea and indefinitely deep. He didn’t bother hiding his emotions, but they still weren’t clear. I assumed his silence was affirmation that my assumption was correct. Finally, he nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

  I examined the last painting but wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It was a man sitting in a chair near the window. Unlike the other images, this one was in black and white. He appeared to be in a café. On the table was an ashtray. A lone cigarette sat at the edge, and tendrils of smoke came into the air. He had one elbow resting on the back of his chair and his hand supported his head. He was looking to the left and off the page. His body was toned and tight, but he was on the slimmer side. A collared shirt covered his torso, and light facial hair was on his face. His face was stoic, like he was thinking about something deep and disturbing.

  I didn’t know what it meant. “Who’s this?”

  Heath stared at the painting for a long time, taking in the image. Finally, he spoke. �
��Someone I used to know…”

  Since he didn’t seem like he wanted to elaborate further, I didn’t ask him any more questions. “They’re all really good.” I put down the last painting and leaned it against the couch.

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you paint often?”

  He shrugged. “Whenever I have something to paint.”

  “Maybe you should quit the magazine and pursue this.”

  He smiled but it was forced. “I don’t think I have the talent to become a professional artist.”

  “Come on,” I said. “You do.”

  “Are you an art expert?” he asked incredulously.

  “No,” I admitted. “But if I were walking around Central Park and you had a stand on the sidewalk, I’d buy one from you.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Seriously.”

  He sat on the couch and turned his attention back to the TV. “It’s going to be a close game.”

  Since he changed the subject, I assumed he didn’t want to discuss his pieces anymore. “Yeah…”

  We settled down and watched the game. His couches were so damn comfortable, and the temperature of the room was just right. My eyes kept falling like rocks were sitting on my lids. The game came in and out of focus, and then eventually, I fell asleep.

  ***

  When my eyes fluttered open, I realized the sun was gone. Nighttime had fallen on the city, and the hours had passed. The TV was still on but the games were over. I stretched and felt my muscles scream in protest. I just wanted to fall back asleep and never leave this place. The painting on the wall came into my vision, and then I turned to look for Heath.

  He was lying on the opposite couch, his long legs stretched out. We were both so tall that the couches could barely contain us. Two different socks were on his feet. One was gray and the other was red. I found that amusing for some reason.

  “Sleep well?” he asked quietly.

  “These couches are dangerous,” I said with a yawn.

  “Why do you think I’m so lazy?” he said with a chuckle.

  “You aren’t lazy,” I said immediately. “You’re a writer and an accomplished painter. Now, I’m the lazy one.”

  “Then you shouldn’t buy these couches,” he teased.

  “Maybe I should buy them for my parents so they chill the hell out.”

  He laughed. “Your parents are lovely people.”

  “By lovely, you mean annoying?”

  “No,” he said. “Just lovely.”

  “What are your parents like?” I asked.

  He paused for a moment. “My mom takes care of the house. She cooks, cleans, and puts up with five stinky boys. She’s an awesome cook, and she’s got the warmth to light up a room. My dad is more of a…macho man, I guess. He sticks to herding the sheep and raising chickens. At any given time, rain or shine, he prefers to be outside. My brothers are all unique in their own ways. But they all like to drink. That’s a good way to describe them.”

  “So, they aren’t annoying?” I asked.

  “No, not really.”

  “That must be nice.”

  He chuckled. “Your family is supposed to annoy you, Roland. Or is that news to you?”

  I shrugged in response.

  Heath changed the channel and put on a cheesy sci-fi movie.

  “You like these?” I asked.

  “They’re so bad, they’re good. You know what I mean?”

  I laughed. “Actually, I do. My dad and I used to watch these movies and make fun of them together. It was actually pretty fun.”

  “You’re close with your father?”

  I shrugged. “We get along. We have our talks. But I’m closer with my mom. My sister is closer with my dad. It kinda just happened that way.”

  “Your mom is really nice,” he said. “I like her.”

  “She’s okay,” I said.

  “She and Skye look a lot alike,” he noted.

  “I know…”

  “And you look just like your dad. You guys could be brothers.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I get that all the time. Whenever I go to his office, people think I’m him.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, the damage you could do….”

  I laughed. “I could make a bunch of them fetch me coffee and donuts, and then do twenty push-ups on the ground. It would be hilarious…”

  “Until your father found out.” A giant alligator came onto the screen, sprouted wings, and took flight. The graphics were terrible, and the ridiculous music just made it worse. “Wow, this is bad.” Heath couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Worthy of Oscar buzz…”

  “They should have an Oscar parody show for the worst movies,” Heath said. “I’d watch that.”

  “What’s your favorite movie?” I asked.

  “Heat,” he said without hesitation.

  “Why that one?” I asked. No one had ever said that.

  “It’s a good story of the cop and the thief. You realize the two aren’t that different. They both have the same qualities, the same goodness, and of course, the same badness. Besides, it has De Niro and Pacino. You can’t go wrong with those guys.”

  “Good point.”

  “What about you?”

  I took a moment to think about it. “Terminator 2: Judgment Day.”

  He nodded his head in approval. “Excellent choice, my friend.”

  “But I’m not a fan of Schwarzenegger.”

  He chuckled. “I understand.”

  We continued to watch the movie. I knew I should head home but I was so comfortable. Hanging out with Heath was cool. I told him a lot of things I wouldn’t tell someone else. With him, I didn’t have to be a macho smartass all the time. Heath was mature and thoughtful. He never made fun of anything I said, and he valued my input and abilities. He was more than just a coworker. Even if I didn’t work with him anymore, I’d still hang out with him.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I was too comfortable to move my arm so I let voicemail get it.

  “Too tired?” Heath asked with a laugh.

  “Yeah…”

  But my phone rang again. “Geez, why am I so popular?”

  “You’re a cool guy.”

  I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen. It was Dad. I sighed then answered it. “Wad up, playa?”

  Dad ignored my greeting. “You said you were going to be home hours ago. Where are you?”

  I hated living with my parents. I absolutely loathed it. They checked on me all the time and had to know where I was. “Dad, I’m an adult. Chill out.”

  “As long as you live with me, rent-free let me remind you, you will abide by my rules and answer my questions. If you just texted me and told me you were going to be out late, that would have been fine. But your mother and I are about to go to bed and you’re nowhere in sight. So, where are you?”

  “I’m at Heath’s,” I said with a loud sigh. “I fell asleep on his couch. Damn, they are comfortable. You should get some.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “So, when will you be home?”

  I looked at the time. “I’ll leave in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

  “Seriously, just go to bed. I’ll set the alarm when I walk in.”

  “Okay, but I’ll know if you’ve really done it.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  He hung up.

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Sometimes I just want to strangle him…”

  “He just cares about you.”

  “A little too much, if you ask me.” I stood up then pulled my shoes on. “Well, thanks for letting me come over. I’m sorry I was here all day.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “You’re welcome to come over whenever you want, even if it’s just to sleep on my couch.” He added a teasing smirk.

  “I might take you up on that offer.” I grabbed my jacket and walked to the door.

  Heath opened it. “I’ll see you at work tomorr
ow.”

  “Yeah.” I leaned in and hugged him quickly, patting him on the shoulder.

  Heath flinched when I touched him, like he didn’t know what to do. Then he returned the embrace and patted my back. When he stepped away, a thoughtful expression was on his face. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  ***

  When I came home, I disabled the alarm then set it again. My dad was probably awake still, waiting for the alarm to change. He had an app on his phone that allowed him to monitor everything in the house. His obsession and paranoia kept us safe, but it was extremely annoying.

  I kicked off my shoes then headed to my room. I was grateful my dad wasn’t waiting downstairs for me, wanting to give me a pep talk about being more responsible. Maybe I could ask Heath if I could be his roommate, and I’ll pay him back for the rent I missed when I got a job. He seemed like he’d be cool to live with. We had a lot in common.

  I got into bed then closed my eyes. Even though I took a long nap, I was still drowsy. I was in one of those moods where I could sleep all day and never really wake up. I guess that’s what Sundays were for.

  Eventually, I fell asleep and my dreams took me…

  I sat on a stool near the window.

  Heath sat behind his easel and he was using his paintbrush to dab color on the canvas.

  I continued to sit still and looked out the window.

  “Stay still,” he said.

  “I am,” I argued.

  “You just moved,” he said with a laugh.

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to flinch. “How’s it coming?”

  “It’s looking good.”

  “Cool…”

  Hours seemed to pass until Heath was done. “Okay, I got it.”

  “How’d it turn out?”

  “It’s a masterpiece.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the image.

  I came beside him then stared at the image. It was black and white like the other painting I saw. I looked out the window wearing a collared shirt, examining the city below my feet.

  “You’re my muse,” Heath whispered.

  I continued to stare at the painting, saying nothing else.

  Heath turned to me, his face close to mine.