An Unexpected Gift

by Brandon Carlisle

  Isaac squeezed my thigh. "Andy, we know a lot has happened this afternoon. But remember one thing. All of it has come from people knowledgeable in their fields. Abby is a known and respected artist in the area who has many friends that have appraised and taken an interest in your work. Margaret is a very respected gallery owner that wants to put on a show of your work and is now showing several of your paintings. Your talent is being recognized for what it is."

  I interjected here. "We can take it as slow as you like and allow you time to adjust. We will pace it the way you want."

  He nodded his head, and we watched as his cheeks flushed. "Thanks."

  Now that that was out of the way, I wanted to get to some other practical matters. "Isaac and I have decided that we want to install your own phone line in your room. This way you can have more privacy when you talk to Patrick or anyone else you want to."

  "Thanks. Now you won't have to wait for me to go in my room when we talk and then have to hang up the phone out here."

  Now it was Isaac's turn. "We've also been talking about the fact that you need your own space for painting. You need your own studio."

  "No. I have my front room and I can always paint at Abby's."

  I wondered if it was insecurity or not wanting to impose. "Andy, you are going to be a full-time artist. You will need a space with better light, and room to store your art and supplies, not to mention having more privacy while working."

  "Well, yeah. But I enjoy being here."

  Isaac laughed. "We're not asking you to move out. We're talking about maybe renting a studio space or building one somewhere."

  I threw it out there. I hadn't discussed it with Isaac, but now was the opportunity. "At one time I thought we could build one in the back yard. It wouldn't be big, but I think it could be adequate to start with. You could store your extra supplies and canvases in the front room. We could have them put in skylights with shades so you could adjust lighting. Maybe take up a quarter or third of the back yard?"

  Isaac looked at me and did his usual shrug of the shoulders. "Why not? It would still leave room for the table and chairs and we could entertain smaller groups. What do you think?"

  "You guys sure? You'd lose a lot of space."

  "Andy. What did we just say? We'd still have enough to entertain, and you would have enough room to work. Now, what do you think?"

  "Sure!" He was grinning from ear to ear. "I can't wait to tell Patrick!"

  *****

  Isaac and I had developed a plan regarding the day care center requests. Each of the districts were rather large and spread out, for the most part. A good example of this was our own. It covered the Castro and the Haight. I had every request sorted by district and we contacted the district supervisor to follow up with the neighborhood request if it hadn't gone through them.

  Our plan was to have the city supervisor of each district develop a consensus of the need for day care and find an agreeable location that would provide the space. It would also need ease of drop off and pickup. They would also first see about city resources for the center. Next, we would have our people evaluate the proposal before deciding. We would then work with the supervisor and city to develop a plan for the center. If the city cannot be involved due to cost or any other reason, we would take it upon ourselves if there was an actual need and we could do it without sacrificing a more important project.

  The foundation was doing well, but we needed to do more. Though we had planned to open more clinics, there was little need outside of where we had established our first one.

  Isaac began attending the Board of Supervisors meetings on a regular basis, which was an excellent source of information for needs in the different districts.

  The foundation focused on opening additional shelters. With the federal government's reductions to the housing budget the plight of the homeless increased in the city. On top of that the cutbacks in mental health care by California's last governor placed many with no place to live. We also worked with groups to organize food drives and raised our aid supplement to the dining halls. The city was in the midst of a crisis.

  We were now understaffed, and Isaac and I discussed the need to increase our staff. Ever the agreeable partner, he told me to make the arrangements, and I groaned while he smiled. I called Arthur and asked him to help us find a full-time accountant specializing in non-profits. Once that was settled, I called Elizabeth into my office and told her she had carte blanch to hire any additional help she thought we needed. We would be very busy, and I did not want it to overload her.

  It had been three weeks since we agreed to build Andy's studio at home. The foundation had made plans for the first two shelters and supporting the meal centers. Initially, we were giving cash supplements for the meal programs, but I wanted to find a better option. We selected five groups to support. Because of the larger base we wondered if maybe we could organize a central facility for the donations and then distribute them to the different kitchens. The more Isaac and I discussed it with several of the groups, the more we found that there was a lot of neighborhood support for the individual kitchens. I still couldn't let go of the idea, though.

  I hadn't talked to Leland in several weeks but wanted to pick his brain on the off chance he might have an idea. When I called him, he was about to head into a meeting but suggested I stop by and join him for lunch.

  When I told Isaac of my plans and invited him along, he passed. I couldn't blame him. After living away from the frenetic pace of downtown, even though it was slower than New York, that section of the city no longer held any charm for me. I was even dreading this onetime trip to the financial district. The taxi dropped me in front of the iconic Transamerica Pyramid, and I still marveled at its construction.

  I zipped up to his floor and when the elevator doors opened he was already at the reception area signing for what I assumed was our lunch.

  "Perfect timing! Our lunch just arrived. I hope you still like chicken salad on whole wheat?"

  "Why, yes. Did you also get me a Diet Pepsi and chips?"

  "Of course I did."

  I couldn't help but grin. "My, my, Leland. You went all out for me today, didn't you?"

  He spread his arms and did a gracious bow. "It's a beautiful day out and I thought we could eat in the Redwood Grove."

  The Redwood Grove was the garden set up next to the Pyramid which had several actual redwood trees brought in from the north bay. It was a tranquil setting in the middle of all the frenzied activity of downtown. We settled onto a bench and he set out our lunch between us. "Now, you told me a little about your problem. You want to coordinate the food for the kitchen programs?"

  "Yes. I thought we might set up some kind of central distribution network and improve donations by getting businesses to donate their excess food supplies."

  He took a bite of his favorite sandwich. I still couldn't see how Ryan got him hooked on them. Salami, swiss cheese and cream cheese on a sourdough roll. It would go straight to my hips.

  "Sebastian, I understand what you are trying to do, but why? Why do you want to take control from these non-profit groups that want to help people? They were here before you started your foundation. Some of them I am sure years before. They already have connections in their community."

  I sat back, surprised. His answer was blunt; honest, but blunt. I never even thought of that. My wanting to help so bad I never thought of how anyone else would feel, or how they would be affected. Sitting here with Leland and realizing my behavior I was ashamed.

  "You're right. As usual, I was charging right in without thinking."

  "Sebastian, don't take it so hard. Your heart, as usual, was in the right place. There are things you can still do. Your ideas are a good starting point. Organizing regular food drives with volunteers going to the restaurants and grocery stores to collect food that would be thrown away because of sell-by dates is excellent. The food is still good, even though it can't be sold. Stores might even be willing to donate excess inven
tory."

  "Thanks, Leland." Through all of my craziness and changes, he has been my one true friend. I could always lean on him and come to him for advice. "Now that my primary purpose is out of the way I also have some news that I think you will like." I couldn't help but grin. "Andy has been invited to have an exhibit at the Margaret Lockwood Gallery. No date set yet. But he's going to so it!"

  "Sebastian! That's wonderful! This calls for a toast." We lifted our cans and tapped them together. "I just hope we will be here for the opening. I'm surprising Ryan with a cruise to Alaska in a little over a month."

  The thought of him not being there made me sad, but how much he had changed. I was so happy for them. "Well… it all depends on how soon his paintings will be ready."

  "Rest assured, if we are here, we won't miss it. I think it's wonderful."

  We spent the rest of our time catching up on the latest gossip and news. He filled me in on the latest plans for his hotel, and I told him of our plans on expanding our day care services and adding shelters in certain areas of the city.

  *****

  When I returned to the foundation that afternoon, Isaac pulled me into his office and shut the door. "Abby called. Margaret called her. She told Abby that the interview they did yesterday took a different turn than expected. It seemed the reporter noticed Andy's work next to the showcased artist and asked about it. Margaret told her about Andy and then the interview focused on his work. She didn't think much about it because the original focus of the interview was the gallery and the artist showcased. It turned out the station liked the bit about Andy and will include the full interview in the evening broadcast. It will be on the six o'clock news."

  I sat down on a chair in front of his desk. "I don't know if this is good news or bad news."

  "Well, Andy is getting good publicity, we hope. I guess it's whether he's ready to have that kind of publicity."

  "Did Abby say what the reporter's reaction was?"

  "Well, she said the work was interesting. The child with the van was very emotional, but disturbing; the couple in the woods was peaceful; and the portrait was pleasant."

  I thought about that for a moment. It wasn't high praise, but it also wasn't bad. From someone who wasn't an art critic it sounded all right. "I think it will be all right. How did Andy react to the news?"

  "Abby said he went downstairs to call Patrick. Maybe you should go home and check on him. I can cover."

  It was a short walk home. When I got there, Andy wasn't anywhere in the flat. I got nervous until I looked out the kitchen window. Andy was outside with two easels and a canvas on each. It looked like he was using one as an example for the other. He was concentrating and didn't hear me coming down the stairs.

  When I stepped onto the patio I cleared my throat and he halted, turning around. "What're you doing home?"

  "Isaac and I heard about the interview and we were a little concerned, so I thought I would stop by and see if everything was all right."

  There was such an expression of calm that came over him when I asked. "Yeah. Talking to Patrick helped."

  I needed to know what Patrick said. What words gave him the confidence to relax? "What did he say?"

  "Well, part of it was what he said, and part of it was how he said it. He told me how I needed to stop letting the crap my parents told me as a kid influence me, and to trust what the people that cared about me were telling me now. People that were important, and the professionals. Margaret, the artists that saw my work, and Abby. He also said I should trust your judgment. That you wouldn't lie."

  I watched as a smile spread across his lips and there was a light in his eyes. "Then he said something that was really special. I'll never forget the words. 'Andy, I'll never lie to you. Especially about something as important as your art. You're good, really good. Have faith in yourself, baby. You have a great future ahead of you. I love you.'"

  I pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. The last part was unexpected, but not a surprise. I saw it coming. I didn't expect to hear it so soon. "That's wonderful, Andy. How do you feel about what he said? The last part?"

  "I feel great. I love him. Patrick and I connect on so many levels. He understands me. I can talk to him about anything. He's a beautiful person inside and out. I feel cared about and loved in a way I never felt before. I love him."

  The look on his face also spoke of his feelings. "I'm glad. You deserve it. What's that you're painting?"

  "Remember when I freaked out over the nude in Abby's flat? Well I'm using the original and reinterpreting it into my own style now that I have a better appreciation."

  "That's great! I'm going to head back to the office and leave you to your work. Remember, the workers will be here next week with several proposals for your studio. We want you to decide on the design as it will be your space."

  We were so impressed with the contractor's work on our office changes that we invited him to the house to give us some ideas for Andy's studio. He told us the most complicated part would be the plumbing, but once we gained the permits they could do it in six weeks. The time frame thrilled Andy.

  *****

  When I got back to the office I filled Isaac in on the news. Like myself, the short construction time surprised him. Patrick's proclamation, on the other hand, was expected. Isaac called Abby and let her know that we were ordering pizza tonight and to join us for the six o'clock news so we could all see the clip on the gallery.

  We left the foundation at five and Andy was still working in the yard when we got home. We watched him as we stood on the landing. He had grown so much since he arrived in our home. Not so much in height, but he had filled out. Yes, he was a man, but still somewhat of a boy in a few ways. Our worries about Patrick were gone. Now all we wanted was the best for both of them. Both being artists, they had much in common and we could see them building a life together.

  Isaac nudged me with his elbow and called out to Andy, asking what he wanted on his pizza tonight. He also let him know that Abby would be coming over to watch the news with us.

  We assembled in the living room after six, knowing the segment would show towards the end of the broadcast. Three pizza boxes sat on the coffee table. One pepperoni, one meat lover, and one plain for Abby. Tonight she was doing a mild cleansing to her system. No meat for three days. I grinned at the idea as that didn't stop the cheese, or the pot. Isaac had opened a nice burgundy to go with dinner, and we had relaxed the rules again so Andy could have a glass with us at dinner time.

  The room was still as we focused on the television. When the news anchor introduced the special feature for tonight, we held our breath. The clip opened with a young brunette wearing a Pepsodent smile. She introduced herself as our host, Cindy Preston. After explaining where they were that afternoon, she introduced Margaret as the owner of the gallery located at Fisherman's Wharf. Cindy turned in her chair, presenting the art behind her. She turned her microphone over to Margaret, who gave a brief background of Zachary, who was the featured artist. She spoke of how his style was reminiscent of Picasso's Analytic Cubism. When Margaret finished, the hostess motioned to the cameraman who did a slow sweep to Andy's work.

  "I couldn't help but notice these three works as we came in. You told me they are all from a new artist you were recently introduced to?"

  You could see the surprise on Margaret's face. "Um…, yes. He is a local artist by the name of Andrew Montgomery Browne. He is new to the local art scene and, I must admit, very talented. As you can see, he is adept at several genres of art. From impressionism to expressionism, and contemporary."

  The hostess had the cameraman focus on the first piece as Margaret explained. "This painting has a dark, almost haunting mood." The camera moved to the next painting as she continued. "Then he goes to this serene couple in a park, and finally to this upbeat portrait."

  "Yes, the young man is talented. I believe we will see many great things from him in the future."

  The camera moved to the hostess as she
concluded her segment and said goodnight. Isaac got up and turned off the television and turned to Andy. "I think that went well."

  I looked at Isaac and then Andy. "Yes, I think it did too. It sounded positive. You could see the surprise on Margaret's face when the woman asked about your work. That was priceless!"

  Abby laughed. "She didn't tell me about that part."

  Andy finished his wine and held out his glass. I looked at Isaac and then filled it half way. "I guess it did go well. At least she didn't tell her how young I am."

  We all looked at Andy in surprise, but it was Abby who spoke first. "What has your age got to do with anything? It's your talent that's important. Screw the age crap!" She looked around the room. "I may have had a few glasses upstairs and a brownie or two before coming down."

  "I'm not old enough to be a success. Look at all the other artists struggling! Everyone else that's successful is older than me." It came out as a whine.

  I tried not to laugh at Andy's response. "It's all right, Abby. Andy, she's right. What is important is your talent. You have a gift in the way you can paint in different styles and convey such emotion in your art. It is a gift. Your age is unimportant. Mozart performed before royalty at age six. As you grow older your talent will continue to develop just as his did."

  While Isaac and I cleaned up, Andy took Abby to his little studio and showed her what he had been working on. When we returned to the sofa, we could overhear some of their conversation. Abby was pleased that he was going back over some of his earlier work and putting his own personal touch to it. From what we could tell, he had pulled out some of his sketch pads and was discussing using them as a basis for some new works. He wanted to find more inspiration with spontaneity where he could capture a moment and put it on canvas. Abby suggested that they take day trips around the city to gather ideas. She had several places she thought would inspire him.

  I pulled Isaac's arm around me as I leaned into his shoulder with a satisfaction that everything in our lives was running smoothly.