An Unexpected Gift

by Brandon Carlisle

  *****

  With the interview being broadcast tomorrow evening, Andy planned to celebrate his birthday with Patrick tonight. All he wanted was a simple dinner and a movie. No party, no surprises, nothing special.

  We settled in to watch TV, and it was a mistake. The news was about the worsening economy, increased unemployment, and more. I turned it off and put on some music. Sebastian lay down in my lap and we read. It wasn't too long before the boys came back and looked very satisfied.

  Andy grinned, "We're still stuffed!"

  Patrick patted Andy's belly. "I couldn't believe how much food he put away. How come he never puts on weight!"

  "Andy wanted to go to that country place with the chicken, mashed potatoes and grits. We both stuffed ourselves. We didn't even have room for dessert. He wants to go out tomorrow so he can have dessert."

  Sebastian glanced at me and then back at the two of them. "How was the movie?"

  Andy did a thumbs down and Patrick laughed. "It was some kind of cop movie with lots of explosions and car chases. Andy thought the star was hot, but I thought he was kinda lame. Oh, even though he was stuffed, he still had a giant soda at the movie."

  He grabbed Patrick's hand. "We're going to bed now. We'll try not to make too much noise." He blushed on the last remark and Patrick turned beet red as he followed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The New Arrivals

  Sebastian

  We all watched the interview the evening before and wondered what effect it would have. While watching it, I was surprised by how little was edited in the interview. Except for the cleanup of some timing gaps, it was exactly what I saw in our living rooms. I thought it portrayed Andy and Patrick well. The artwork showed beautifully on camera. We only had to wait for the results from the gallery as to attendance, and the papers if there was any coverage.

  The interview seemed to have caused quite a buzz because they crowded Margaret's gallery when she called that afternoon. Andy was excited when he informed us. Most people there in the beginning showed up out of curiosity to see what all the hubbub was about. Some people were art buyers while other visitors were respected art critics. Andy had dropped off a few paintings for sale Monday afternoon, unable to wait. By Wednesday three more of his paintings had sold and there was a review in the Thursday edition of the San Francisco Chronicle about a brave new artist with a bold initial view. But the critic also stated that he wondered what would be next for this young talent. "Will he continue to excite and maintain deep emotion and controversy? Or, has he already made his statement?"

  Sitting at the breakfast table that morning I watched as Andy read the review and saw the fear in his eyes. "What if he's right?"

  "Andy, think about it. Remember what you once told me. What about the other kids? What about all the other people in the same plight? Homeless families struggling. During the depression there was a famous photographer, Dorothea Lange, who captured the souls of those suffering the poverty that swept the country during the Great Depression. Why can't you do the same with your paintings?"

  "Do you think that's possible?"

  "You haven't been in their actual shoes, so to speak, but you understand some of what they are suffering. Abby talked of taking you to see different aspects of the city for candid activity. Why not go to those areas and study those moments? You can still capture the poignancy of the city from both sides of the spectrum. Show the good and the bad."

  He gave me that engaging smile I loved so much as his confidence returned. "I can, can't I."

  Just then Isaac stepped in. "Good morning, everyone." His hair was still damp from the shower. He let it grow out longer and it looked more relaxed on him as he parted it on the side.

  Andy brought him up to speed on our conversation. "I was reading a review of my showing. The critic wondered if I would continue to have something to say after this."

  "So, what's your answer?" Isaac was grinning.

  "I have a lot more to say."

  Isaac bent over and kissed the top of his head. "That sounds like our boy. Is there any coffee left?" He looked around. "Where's Patrick?"

  I looked at him with mock surprise. "Where do you think? He's at the store, working. Patrick wants to get as much done as possible ahead of time. He has two weeks before he has to head up north to help with the move here."

  Andy stood up from the table. "Speaking of which, I need to get moving. I promised to help paint today."

  "Also speaking of which. Isaac and I have been talking. It's time you opened your own checking account. You can't keep endorsing your checks over to us. When you get your commission check at the end of this month it will be a good one. You should set up a checking account and a savings account."

  "Yeah, yeah. I know." He gave me a wink. "See you guys later."

  *****

  Andy spent every day helping Patrick finish the store, and it only had a few finishing touches left by the time he had to leave. It was late afternoon on a Thursday when it was time for Patrick to go, and he and Andy were standing in the living room. Andy planned to drive him to the Greyhound station on Seventh Street. Even though we were in the kitchen, we could hear them. Andy wanted to take the bus back with him, but Patrick had put his foot down.

  "Andy, as much as I would love to have you with me, you need to get back to your painting. Remember what Margaret said. You have the exhibit coming up and you keep selling out of you work on display at the gallery. You need to build up your inventory for your show. The reviews from the other art critics have been good, especially the one from the Oakland Tribune. I won't be gone long."

  "Why do you have to be the practical one?"

  "Simple. Because you are the creative one. That's why we make a good couple, and that's why it will work. I love you. Now let's go before I miss my bus."

  I took that as our cue to come out and say goodbye. "Be careful, Patrick, and call when you arrive. Andy, why don't you find parking and wait until he leaves so you have more time together."

  Isaac grabbed his wallet and began to pull out some cash. "Listen, I'll drive you guys down and then Andy can take a cab back. That way you have more time together."

  "Isaac, I have money, just give us a ride." Andy rolled his eyes and slapped Isaac on the shoulder.

  Isaac turned to give me a kiss, and I hugged the boys as they left.

  Patrick was right about the critics. Andy was getting positive press, not fantastic, but favorable. They recognized his talent, but I was concerned that it could relate a lot with his subject matter. Right now, it was what they considered controversial, because it put something unpleasant right in front of the public and drew the most attention.

  When Andy got home he was down, and we knew he would put that energy into his painting. Though it was early, he said he would see us later and went into his studio, closing the door.

  The following day we got up, showered and prepared for work. We were on our way into the kitchen when I looked down the hall and noticed Andy's door was open. I told Isaac I would look in on him. His bed was still made. Looking further down the hall his studio door was closed. Thinking he might have fallen asleep in there, I turned the knob slowly and opened the door. Andy was still painting! He hadn't even noticed me. I knocked on the door frame.

  He turned and his eyes were red and there were dark shadows beneath them. Looking past him, I noticed the painting. It was unfinished but I could tell the subject matter. It was of a young man standing in the rain, waving at a departing bus. The colors were primarily blues embedded with gray, giving it a bleak tone. He put all of his emotion into that canvas. It was like the saying, "wearing your heart on your sleeve".

  "You've been up all night?"

  "I couldn't sleep."

  "You love him very much, don't you?"

  "Yeah. I hate being away from him."

  "Andy, I understand." I stepped around him to open the windows.

  When I looked back, he was holding the brush and palette to his si
de looking lost. Pulling him into my arms I stroked his hair. "It's the same way with Isaac. Since we have lived together, we never spent a night apart. I doubt I could stand it. Patrick will be back soon. I know he feels the same."

  "He's going to tell his mom about the flat when he's up there."

  "She doesn't know yet?"

  "He wanted to tell her in person."

  "Everything will be fine."

  *****

  Andy threw himself into his painting waiting for Patrick's return. Once he arrived in Arcata, they resumed their daily calls and it eased his separation anxiety somewhat. Gretchen was both excited and saddened at the news of his moving out. Like us, it was difficult letting go, but his being close by made it easier.

  Abby took Andy around the city in her station wagon to keep him occupied and focused. I had to admit it concerned me with some places they visited, but Abby assured me they were safe, and I had to trust her.

  Isaac and I talked about the need for Andy to have his own transportation and one evening we approached him over dinner about buying him some form of transportation.

  "Not this time. I'm way ahead of you. Patrick and I decided to get an old VW bus. That way I can store my supplies in the back when I go out if I want to paint, pick up anything I need, and Patrick can get any supplies he needs for work, or we can sleep in it if we want to stay out overnight. If he needs to pick up anything heavy, he can use his mother's truck." He was grinning at us with pride.

  We stood there, I'm sure our faces showed our surprise as he continued. "I talked to Patrick, and we decided getting a used one we could fix it up ourselves inside the way we want. Nothing fancy since we'll be hauling things around."

  I felt Isaac nudge me before he spoke. "That sounds like a good plan. You have your money coming in from the sales, and I'm sure more will come in once you get additional paintings to Margaret. It makes sense."

  He poked me in the ribs again with his elbow to prod me. "Yeah. You seem to make real plans with Patrick. I'm glad."

  Andy took off for his studio and shut the door. We had another extension installed in the studio and had both rooms assigned a separate phone number for his privacy. We also bought him an answering machine. It was almost time for his nightly chat with Patrick.

  No construction could start until the tenants moved out, so we still had a short while to wait. We called the contractor back and asked him to evaluate the attic with our ideas and come up with a plan. I wasn't concerned about the cost, but was pleasantly surprised. What we hoped to accomplish was reasonable and could be completed in a month, weather permitting. Flooring, sheet rock, and electrical would not be complicated. The skylights were an easy install, but the plumbing would take the most time. He would need to tap into the existing lines from the below flat for a separate sink and toilet for Andy. This way Andy would be able to clean his brushes and supplies.

  We needed to just back away and allow things to proceed. I needed to keep reminding myself of that. Ugh!

  *****

  It took a week, but Gretchen and Patrick arrived bright and early on a Saturday morning after driving through the night. Gretchen dropped Patrick off at our house and we all piled into Betty to drive over to the store. It looked like a caravan had arrived. Gretchen parked in front of the store with a trailer. A friend had staked out a space for them in the wee hours of the morning, waiting for them so they could park their vehicle and a large U-Haul, driven by two friends and filled with their belongings and some items for the store. There was another pickup with a trailer driven by more friends who found space on a side street a few blocks away until it was time for them to unload.

  We watched as everyone was already tackling the job of unloading. Patrick and Andy jumped in to help carry boxes inside. Isaac and I decided to first grab several jugs of coffee and pastries for everyone as we were sure they must be hungry and could use the caffeine. They already had a long night driving, and yet they had started right away. I knew they could use the pick-me-up.

  Once we returned, we dropped the fuel on the counter in the shop and pitched in. Manual labor was never my forte, but I did my best. Picking up a box I read the hand-written label. When Andy walked past me to carry a box upstairs, he grinned. "I never expected to see that!"

  "Never tell anyone under penalty of death!" I winked at him. "There's coffee and pastries on the counter. You and Patrick should grab some before they are gone. Where's Gretchen?"

  "She's in the kitchen." He set his box down to grab a donut before pointing to the stairs.

  That was where my box was labeled for so I followed his directions. I found her leaning against the counter wiping her eyes. I set the box on the floor. "Gretchen?"

  She turned and smiled, wiping her eyes once more. "Sebastian, did you see what the boys did downstairs? I can't believe how much work they did. It's so wonderful. Patrick is so talented. What he and Andy did in such a short time." She sniffed then shook her head, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "Enough, there's lots to do today. Just put that anywhere for now. Thanks for joining us. Shall we?" She headed for the stairs motioning for me to follow.

  By midafternoon the first two trucks were unloaded and the last one was almost finished. The forecast was clear, so most of the boxes for the store, once space was packed tight, were placed under the covered area in the back yard. Once everyone was finished Gretchen ordered pizzas, beers, and soft drinks from across the street. The tired crew, including Isaac and myself, found a place wherever we could to sit, be it a box or the grass, and collapsed. I knew that tomorrow I would feel pain in areas of my body that I never knew existed.

  Sunday would be Isaac's and my day of rest, and then the new insanity would begin. Tomorrow our tenants would move out and then the construction would begin on Monday. Their first order of business was to cut an entrance from the third-floor flat to the attic. They already marked the place on the ceiling of the flat. They would need to access Abby's unit for one day to create the opening for the stairway and set up a ladder to the flat below. Andy and Patrick already said Abby's access to the attic could remain on condition she asked to use it before ever entering.

  My suggestion for the stairway was a wonderful circular iron staircase that I thought would make a wonderful statement. Andy shot that down right away saying it was impractical. He explained as if to a child that it would be impossible for him to carry his canvasses upstairs, let alone his finished paintings down the stairs on such a staircase, and I had to admit he was right. So, we agreed on a simple wide staircase for easy access.

  *****

  The next day was quiet, as we had hoped. A few of Gretchen's friends stayed to help unpack the store, and Patrick and Andy painted the store front. In two weeks the store would be open for business. Gretchen brought her original store sign from Arcata. One of her artist friends refreshed the paint. The name, "Earthly Treasures", would fit well with the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood.

  The attic renovation started on Monday as planned, and, though Abby would not admit it, I felt it did cause a disturbance for her. She went to Santa Cruz for a week to visit a friend. I knew she had several friends there but once she left Andy told me he overheard her telling Gretchen that she was visiting Gregor, the sculptor. I smiled at the thought, knowing she would come back very relaxed.

  Once Abby returned, she and Andy resumed visiting various spots around the city for inspiration. Armed with the camera we bought him, he was constantly snapping pictures. Andy and Patrick rotated between spending nights at our home or the apartment above the store. On our nights alone we explored new levels of intimacy.

  Our emotional connections were deeper and I found we were prolonging our love making to new records. One night I decided I wanted to try something daring, for me at least. After dinner I told Isaac to pour us both a brandy. While he did that I went to the bedroom and retrieved several of my seldom used neckties, placing them under my pillow. When I returned, I had changed into nothing but my purple silk pajamas that Isaa
c liked. The last time I wore them was when Andy and Abby were in Carmel.

  "I want to try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

  His eyes were dark with hunger and he set the snifter on the table. "You know I do."

  "Completely?"

  "Sebby, the way you are right now, I am game for whatever you want."

  "Good." I untied the sash to my top and let it slip to the floor as I watched him lick his lips. I took a sip from the snifter and set it back on the table. Untying the belt to my pajama bottoms I let them slide to the floor and stepped out of them slowly, kicking them to the side I reached down for the snifter once more. I stood upright swirling the amber liquid before taking another sip as I felt my arousal take over.

  "Now, why don't you strip, grab your brandy and follow me." I turned and sauntered to our bedroom, swaying my hips as suggestively as I could, knowing this would be a night we would both remember.

  When he walked into the room I had red silk handkerchiefs draped over the lamps on the nightstands giving a wonderful erotic glow to our room. The comforter and top sheet were pulled back and folded at the foot of the bed. I had our smooth jazz station out of Oakland playing on the stereo in the background.

  Isaac was gorgeous, standing there with his manhood at full mast, and his eyes dark with his desire for me. "Lay down on the bed, on your back. Tonight, I want to be in control. I want to give you pleasure, and have you be at my mercy."

  He looked at me for a moment in surprise and then hopped on the bed, spread eagle, facing me, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  "I guess you like this idea?"

  "Oh yeah. Anything you want, Sebby."

  I watched as the head of his cock dripped, and I felt myself getting more aroused at the thought of what I was about to do. "We're trying something different tonight. I want you to spread your arms and legs." I walked to the head of the bed and lifted my pillow, removed the ties, and placed the pillow under his head, propping him up more. He looked at the ties with confusion and then it dawned on him as I reached for his wrist.