Stepping back to take in the full impact of the work, it was amazing. On the right half of the painting was the Golden Gate Theater after they renovated it to showcase Broadway road shows in the late seventies. There were crowds of people dressed up in their finery in front of the theater with its lights all aglow. Then, as you looked closer on the left, you saw the homeless in the shadows, huddled in doorways with the shopping carts that held their meager belongings, trash littering the streets. A true testament to the inequality and indifference of society.
"Andrew, it's brilliant. I can't think of another word for it."
"Wow, Isaac. I think that's the highest compliment you ever gave me!" He slapped me on the back and laughed.
"It's wonderful to see you with so much confidence. It suits you, Andrew."
"Why'd you say Andrew?"
"Because that's a man's name; Andy is a boy's name. Do you mind if I call you Andrew?" I reached out and stroked his cheek.
Sebastian placed a hand on Andy's shoulder. "It's true. You are Andrew now. Tonight, for the first time, the full realization has come to pass that you are no longer our Andy that we rescued and needed to protect. You are a man. This, what is around you, is something you have created. That magnificent painting, and the rest in this gallery are the work of a man, not a boy. A man also stands at your side now. Andrew, you have much to be proud of."
"Jesus, you don't know how much that means." Patrick stepped behind Andrew and slipped his arms around him as he was overcome with emotion. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. "Let me show you the rest of my exhibit."
Andrew took Patrick's hand, and as we followed them, Sebastian slid his hand in mine. "That was very special, what you did." He raised our hands and kissed mine. "You are a special man, Isaac Browne."
Once we left the gallery, we drove to The Essex House and picked up our package at the gift shop. Sebastian called that afternoon to arrange for a basket of assorted cheeses, meats, and crackers, and a bottle of champagne. Knowing that their taste buds were not as refined as his, he settled for a bottle of Lanson champagne.
Once we were home, we sat on the sofa to decide what to write on the card. Until the opening we weren't sure what to say. After several suggestions back and forth we agreed on, "Congratulations on your opening, and to the next stage in your blossoming career."
I carried the basket upstairs and let myself in with the key they gave us, even though we would have had one as the landlords, smiling. I set the basket on their makeshift coffee table of milk crates and an old door. Looking around their place it reminded me of my own stark beginnings when I shared a house long ago. Locking up behind me, I went back to our home knowing Andrew was in good hands.
*****
When I returned to our flat, I found Sebastian sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand, the open bottle on the coffee table, and a glass poured for me. He wore a melancholy expression as he looked up at me. “So, what does the next phase of our life entail, Isaac?”
I knew what he meant because I was feeling it too. That familiar feeling of having a family, taking care of someone, guiding them, watching over them, then letting them go. I leaned against the doorway. “I don’t know, Sebastian? What do you want to do?”
Sebastian set his glass down on the coffee table and patted the space next to him. "Come here and sit down." The look in his eyes told me what I knew he was about to say.
“Well, this may sound crazy, or maybe it doesn’t, but… I’d like to do it again.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds like a great idea. Let’s give it a little time and plan everything out first. We can talk to Arthur and get everything set up ahead of time. Maybe there is an agency or another way we can do this.”
He shook his head. “Maybe, but could we think about helping someone in the same circumstances as Andy?”
“Of course.”
Sebastian stretched out and lay his head in my lap. “There’s just been something special having him here. Being a family, watching him grow as a person, helping him discover himself. It took nothing away from us. You understand that, right?”
Stroking his hair, I leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I understand, Sebby. I think it made us stronger, and it gave us so much more. The reality is I think Andy gave us much more than he will ever realize. I want us to do the same again for someone else.”
*****
The next day we were having a late breakfast of pastries and coffee in the back yard when Andrew and Patrick came around the side of the house and joined us. "Good morning. How was the rest of the show?"
They sat down and Andrew grabbed a Danish, taking a bite before answering, while Patrick poured them coffee. "First, I want to thank you for the gift. The show was great. I sold five paintings last night and three are on hold. That Prescott guy from Los Angeles is really interested in my having a show at his gallery. Margaret told me it's in a neighborhood that is becoming rather trendy, called Rodeo Drive."
Sebastian set his coffee cup down. "There are some nice shops there, but it still has a way to go. Still, it is better than Union Square."
Nudging him with my knee, I winked. "Your snobbery is showing."
"No, it's not. I was just stating a fact. Hand me a chocolate croissant."
I handed him one and turned to Patrick. "Have something to eat. How's the store and your mom?" I didn't want him to feel left out.
"She's fine." He grabbed a Bear Claw, taking a bite. "The store is doing good. Better than we expected it to do this early after opening."
Andrew squeezed his shoulder. "She's even thinking of hiring someone part time so he could cut back on his hours and focus more on his art. He sells out far too often."
Sebastian nodded at me. I knew he wanted me to tell them. "Sebastian and I have been talking. We've been thinking about fostering another boy. We wondered what you would think about the idea?"
"That's awesome! What did you think I'd say?"
Patrick cleared his throat. "May I say something?"
Sebastian and I looked at each other, a little surprised and yet, curious. "Of course."
"Maybe I am misunderstanding something here. You guys can see what a beautiful job you did with Andy, and how much he loves and respects you. Why would you even wonder or need to ask?"
"Um…." He was right. It stumped me. I… we were asking him out of courtesy? "I guess we wanted his opinion? If he might have an objection because he would be like a step brother?"
"Honestly?" Andrew's expression was incredulous. "Why would you even think that? Why would I ever want to object to you guys giving someone else the love and opportunity you gave me?"
Sebastian laid his hand on my arm. "Andrew, you are a member of this family. It is because you are family that we wanted your input before going ahead with any decision."
Patrick placed his hand over Andrew's. "My mistake. I misunderstood. Sebastian is right. It is a family decision."
"Yeah, sometimes I forget." Andrew blushed. "Giving someone else the same opportunity you gave me would be a wonderful gift."
Sebastian raised his hands, giving a slight wave. "Well, now that that's settled, shall we finish breakfast? When do you think you will have enough inventory for a Los Angeles show?"
The conversation veered back to the gallery opening and Andrew's plan for the Los Angeles gallery. He also dropped a tidbit about a silver-haired mystery man whom Abby left with last night.
*****
Five months later Arthur called us and said his contact at child services may have found a child we could foster. The boy's name was Jessie Martinez, and he was just shy of thirteen years old. He was turned over to child services when a school nurse had reported signs of abuse. A teacher had taken him to her office when she had discovered blood on the back of his shirt. When the nurse examined him there appeared to be a fresh cigarette burn on his back, and several healed ones. Once he was taken to a hospital for further examination there appeared to be further eviden
ce of child abuse. The boy had always had a medical excuse from physical education so his injuries were never discovered previously.
Arthur explained that for the first few days the boy was uncommunicative about what happened to him, but a counselor was eventually able to get through to him. His story was like Andrew's regarding the father trying to make him more masculine. Along with that, his older brothers bullied the boy, and the mother turned a blind eye to all the abuse.
Because we were already on record with having been approved for Andrew, we could foster Jessie temporarily, and it was arranged to meet him the following day. When we first met him, he was rail thin. It was a Tuesday morning and Jessie was withdrawn at first, and rather suspicious, watching us cautiously. When he realized that we were a couple he began to open up. We told him about Andrew, our home, and what we did, and he slowly began to relax more. Soon it was lunch, and we asked the woman sitting off to the side supervising us if we could take Jessie to eat.
There was a burger place just down the block and we went inside and ordered lunch. The boy was starving, and he seemed to have a habit of talking while his mouth was full. He told us about his home, his older brothers and how they teased and bullied him for being different. He liked to read, and he enjoyed school and learning. Jessie had no interest in sports and would much rather study math and science rather than be outside.
If his dad found him inside reading when it was nice out, he would hit him with his belt because he should be out playing with the other boys. The problem was if he went outside to be with the other boys, they would pick on him and beat him up. He would come home with a black eye or a bloody nose and his dad would be upset because he would not stand up to them and fight back.
Jessie cried but kept talking. "Dad would grab me by my shirt and drag me out to the back porch. He used to just beat me with his belt, but then it changed. One day he took his cigarette and blew on the tip until it was real red. He lifted up my shirt and put the tip on my back and held it there while I screamed for him to stop. When he let go, he laughed. 'That was pain, you little pussy. Now fight back.'"
When he first stayed with us, he had nightmares several nights a week. Sebastian or I would end up lying next to him until he would fall back to sleep. After a month my anger was festering, and Sebastian sat me down.
"Look, why don't I see if we can do something about that bastard. I'll call Arthur. He must have an idea what they could do since he is a lawyer."
Sebastian called Arthur the next morning to see if we could have that bastard prosecuted for what he did. He informed Sebastian about the shortage of investigators the city had, and other reasons it would take time. I was so pissed that I told my man to do what he normally did: pay someone to get the job done. We would then give the information to the district attorney so they could have the bastard prosecuted.
Andrew had taken to Jessie immediately and treated him like a little brother, and Patrick did the same. They decided early on that Andrew would watch Jessie after school. He even set up a spot for him in the studio where he could do his homework. When we would get home from the foundation, we would head upstairs and find Jessie with his head in the books doing his homework and Andrew painting or sketching quietly. Other times we would enter their flat and find Jessie chattering away at the kitchen table while Patrick and Andrew were cooking dinner, and we would end up staying.
Abby even tried to get him interested in painting, but he was more interested in math and science so she talked him into sitting for her. She told me several times he would be a beautiful model. He had light brown skin, straight dark brown hair, and green eyes. His cheek bones were sharp, and his jaw gently narrowed to a softened, round chin. His nose was perfectly aquiline. When he grew up, he would be a major heart breaker.
Still, in the back of my mind was the need to get that bastard punished. It took several months, but the private investigator we hired obtained information from child services and the school. He questioned neighbors, school mates, and even found a hospital record about a questionable broken arm. He dug deeper and found various clinic records of injuries. There was enough evidence to present to the district attorney for an investigation. The key was when they confronted the wife with the evidence. She admitted everything in a plea agreement, and they held the father until trial.
With the evidence and the wife's testimony, Jessie would not have to testify. His father would be in jail for a long time and out of his life for good. Part of her plea agreement, and his sentencing agreement, was their relinquishing parental rights. That set no time limit on our fostering of Jessie. It also helped that we accepted no funds for taking care of him.
The painting of Jessie ended up being a major surprise. He was sitting at the base of a tree, peeling an orange. It was set in an orange grove, and he was wearing a loose white shirt open to the waist, jeans, and no shoes. He looked totally relaxed and carefree. The backdrop was one she had borrowed from an artist friend and it was perfect. The painting was now hanging in our living room. There were no longer any of Sebastian's Asian works hanging in our living room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Epilogue - Sebastian
1984 - Spring
It is close to three years since Jessie came to live in our home. He is nearly sixteen, and now no longer resembles the skinny, frightened youth we met at child services. Jessie has grown and filled out into a more confident individual. He now has friends. They come to the flat and hang out in the living room or our back yard.
Having a group of teenagers around took getting used to after having had a shy teenager that hardly had anyone over. But the energy and laughter helped to balance out the strange music and noise. Jessie has developed one particularly strong friendship. Whether it is something more, we don't pry. Mike lives just up the street from us in a large Victorian converted into apartments. His mother, Fran, is a stay at home mom, and his father, Jake, is a fireman for the city. They're a wonderful couple we've had over for dinner several times over the past few years. Fran once modeled for Abby.
Our lives have changed over the past few years, as well as our world around us. Abby hasn't been around as much. She is still seeing that sculptor, Gregor, in Santa Cruz and has been spending more time down there. I have a funny feeling we might lose her soon. If that happens, I'll be heartbroken. She has become family, more family than any blood relative I ever had.
Patrick and Andy now have a home of their own, a 1940s duplex about ten minutes from us. They live in one half, and converted the other into two studios so they could both work at home. The conversion was a major job. They knocked down walls and installed large windows for light, but it worked to their benefit, and they are happy. Their flat is now rented to a couple that Andy's former tutor knew. They are young artists and appreciate the attic as a studio. Though they are a nice couple, it isn't the same.
Jessie and Mike were at the library and planned on stopping for pizza on the way home. We decided to be lazy and heated leftover spaghetti in the microwave. Isaac and I were watching the news in the living room while we ate dinner. We both set down our plates as they announced that Dr. Robert Gallo had found the cause of the disease that has been ravaging our community, a retrovirus labeled HTLV-III. They had also developed a blood test to identify the virus and hoped they would produce a vaccine in two years.
The disease showed up a few years ago and was originally called GRID, or Gay-Related Immune Deficiency because it seemed to strike primarily our community. It spread fear and paranoia among the public and our own community, especially about how it might be spread. Some of our friends succumbed to it. Leland lost his personal assistant, Ashtin Brauns, whom he brought from New York when he relocated. Leland took it hard. He arranged the funeral himself as Ashtin's family would not even claim the body. The news that it was still spreading, when no cure was in sight, let alone the possibility that a vaccine was at least two years away was frustrating. Landlords turned people out of their apartments when they became
ill, or because they were alone and unable to care of themselves. It was an awful time.
"Isaac, this may seem like a maudlin idea, but I think we need to do something for those who have no one. People are dying and they are alone. It will only get worse until they find a cure or vaccine. I want to set up a place where they can at least have peace and be treated with dignity when their time comes."
He looked at me with that endearing smile. "Jessie has settled in and adapted well. He now has his own life well in hand. We have the resources and if we need to devote more time, I think Jessie will understand. Let's call Arthur tomorrow."
"Thank you, my furry man." I kissed him and tugged at the hair peeking from his shirt.
After we finished dinner, I cleared and then stretched out on the sofa with my head in his lap, reading my latest art magazine. Though I no longer worked at the museum I still enjoyed keeping up with what was happening. Isaac was into his latest mystery novel. He had developed an interest in mysteries and was reading Raymond Chandler's, 'The Lady in the Lake'.
Jessie came in with his backpack, carrying several more books in his arms. "Hey, guys!"
I sat up and turned to the hall. "How did everything go? How is Mike?" Christ, I sounded lame.
He stopped in the doorway and looked at us. "Everything's cool. We both found what we needed for our papers and then stopped for pizza. Mike says hi." He headed for his bedroom.
"Um…, can I ask you a question?" Jessie stopped and looked at me. Isaac turned as if to say, "You aren't really going to ask him?" "Are you practicing safe sex?"
"Whoa! What brought that up?" He was grinning and Isaac held up his hands with an expression of 'don't look at me'.
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