All I Need Pt. 05

Theron was laughing so hard that his face was nearly purple. Margaret was cackling as well, trying to keep her tears of laughter from streaking her makeup.

"You are hilarious when you start ranting, you know that?" Theron gasped.

"So I've been told." I replied, still looking at the article and wondering what the hell these critics saw that I didn't when I painted. I suspected that they were making things up in order to justify their jobs.

"The point is, things are gonna start happening. You don't see this many positive reviews without calls starting to come in from other galleries. You'll see." He gave me a knowing grin.

"Yeah, right." I replied, sarcastically. There was less conviction in my voice, and they both picked up on it. The reviews were very positive, and I was beginning to seriously wonder if I was might have a real shot at making a living at an artist. I was still far from convinced, of course.

That night I tossed and turned in the hotel bed, unable to get comfortable. I stared at the ceiling waiting impatiently to hear that she had landed safely in the US. Frustrated, I raided the room's minibar and was pouring myself a rum and coke when my cellphone chirped at me with a text from Amy.

"Just landed. Missing the hell out of you already. Love you."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I sent back my reply. "We'll be together again soon. Just not soon enough. Love you, too. This is going to take forever."

"Did you find my present?" Present? I glanced around the room. Was I missing something?

"Present?" I sent back.

"I left a memento in your suitcase. ;)"

I walked over to my suitcase and dug around in it for a moment. I didn't see anything that shouldn't have been there. After a little reflection, I did notice something missing though.

"Did you steal my dress shirt?" I sent.

"...maybe." I started chuckling when I saw her reply.

"Brat."

"I left something in return. You didn't see it?"

I went back to the suitcase and dug some more. I found the black pair of panties she'd worn the night before shoved in the pocket of my dress slacks.

"Found 'em."

"Just something to remind you of me until we can be together again. ;)"

"Tease."

"Yep. Guilty. Not sorry, either. I'm going to sleep in this shirt every night. I won't ask you to do the same with my underwear. Unless you want to, that is."

"Not happening." I smirked as I sent my reply.

"Damn. A girl can dream."

"New fetish?"

"Nope. I've got plenty of those already. Funny thing is, they all involve my big brother."

"You're going to make this last bit of time apart as hard as you can, aren't you?"

"I like making it hard."

"Still a damned tease." I smirked as I sent the reply.

A few moments later, an image arrived. Chuckling to myself, as I remembered her photos that she had sent me from Rome, years before, I clicked the image file to open it. It was a photo taken in what appeared to be a bathroom. Her torso was in the photo, covered only by my dress shirt which was left unbuttoned. The curve of her breasts and the space between them was clearly visible in the photo, but her nipples remained covered by the shirt. It was sexy as hell.

The phone vibrated again with another text.

"Feeling teased yet?"

"Definitely."

"Good. I'm at my car now, gotta drive home. Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, beautiful."

I plugged my phone into the charger on the nightstand and double checked the alarm. Swallowing the last of my rum and coke, I kicked back on the bed to try to sleep. It took a while, but I eventually drifted off.

* * *

By the time we got back home in Milos, the London gallery had sold several of my pieces, even at the insanely inflated prices. Theron gave me a smug grin at the news and I had to admit defeat on the pricing argument. The gallery also had multiple requests from other galleries trying to reach out to me for possible shows, just as Theron had predicted.

Theron pointed out that I was now in the kind of position as an artist that I needed to get representation. He offered to set me up for a meeting with his agent, and I gratefully accepted the help. I had no idea how to even begin to navigate the intricacies of arranging showings and contracts with galleries, much less when dealing with them in multiple countries. Offers were coming in from Germany, Italy, and France already. It had not even been a full week yet. How the hell was this happening? My mind boggled.

Theron and Margaret just beamed at me like proud parents while I stared at them incredulously.

"I told you that it was only a matter of time, Adam." Theron grinned over dinner that evening.

"You did. But it's just crazy. I mean, damn. Surely, they'll figure out it's a fluke and pull the offers, right? I mean, there's no way my stuff's going to be hanging all over Europe like that." I was still mystified by the whole thing.

"It doesn't really work like that. The real trick is, you can't let it go to your head when things get rolling. Don't go spending all kinds of money on stupid shit. Save it. Invest it. Don't be that guy that starts making money and spending it just as fast, you know?" He advised.

"If it came to that, Amy could probably help. She's got a degree in finance. I'm sure she would have some investment ideas. I don't know anything about that kind of stuff. If, by some chance, I wind up making decent money at this, I don't see myself blowing it all anyway. But I do hear what you're saying. I appreciate the advice."

"You've already made more from the London show than the last three years combined and it's only the first week. Things are going to start happening faster now. You need to be ready for it."

"Jesus." I needed a beer.

Theron and I met with his agent, Damian, in Athens a few days later. After going over the details of what help he could offer me, we argued a bit over his percentage. I signed some paperwork and we shook hands. I walked out of the meeting with an agent. I was now an artist with representation. Damn.

I messaged Amy that the meeting had been successful, hoping that I didn't wake her up. The ten hour time difference meant it was still in the middle of the night in Portland.

I spent the next couple of days cleaning up the apartment and repainting over a failed mural attempt that I had been tinkering with on one wall of the living area. Margaret was a little upset with me for painting over it, knowing how many hours I had sunk into the project. She was amused at how much work I put into trying to make the small apartment look less like a bachelor pad.

"You think Amy is going to care one bit about what the place looks like after so long apart?" She asked me.

"Probably not, but I'd like her to at least be comfortable here. I checked out the rent house at the end of the block again yesterday. I think it may be a real possibility if all goes well."

"Talking about moving out again? We've told you that you are more than welcome here as long as you like." She sounded exasperated.

"My stuff fits here just fine right now, but once I get the rest of my stuff shipped from Texas as well as Amy's stuff, it's going to be more than cramped. Trust me. You've never seen her closets. We'll need the space." I was being serious, but couldn't help grinning at Margaret's smirk.

"You may have a point there." She conceded as she glanced at the lone closet in the apartment. "It really isn't a very big space."

* * *

I finally returned to my home town a few days later. It was a short, overnight trip to pack and ship my remaining possessions from the storage building that I had been sending Dr. Miller money to maintain for me while I was away. I did not expect to see Austin again after this, having no further reason to be there in my estimation. It felt really strange to be back, but it didn't feel like the horror show of an existence that it had been when I left. Unlike before, I didn't feel a cloud of doom over me with every step. Amy and I discussed going to Austin together to talk to our mother about her leaving the country to be with me, but had decided against it.

I originally planned to rent a car, but realized that my driver's license had expired while I was abroad. Resigned to my fate, I took a cab to a favorite diner to grab some lunch before I got busy with the things I needed to take care of. I was midway through what I thought might be the best cheeseburger I'd ever had in my life, while answering an email from my new agent about a possible show in Berlin when I saw my mother walk into the diner with two of her friends. I had been in the country for all of three hours and I had already managed to step in shit. God damn it. I stared down at my phone, hoping she wouldn't see me.

"Adam!" My mother exhaled, excusing herself from her friends to walk over to my table. Screw every possible moment of my life, I thought to myself. I had no idea what I was going to say to her.

I looked up at her, genuinely unsure of what to say.

"Hi." I said, with a little apprehension. To be fair, she looked as apprehensive as I felt.

"How have you been?" I asked, feeling about as awkward as one could.

"Um.. Okay, I suppose. And you?" She asked.

"I am... Probably the best I've been in a long time," I paused. "This is really weird, mom. Do you want to sit?"

I pointed at the red chair across from me.

She sat in the chair and looked me over. She looked like a sea of emotions were boiling behind her eyes. I was suddenly glad that we were in a public place.

"You have gotten really tan. Are you working construction or something? What do you do?"

"I mostly paint." I looked at my arms. Had I really gotten that tan? Amy had told me the same thing. Weird.

"Houses?"

"I'm am an art assistant. I paint canvases in my free time. Same thing I did here." I fought back an urge to sneer.

"Do you live here in Austin?" She asked.

"No, I'm just in town for the day."

"Oh." She blinked. "We haven't heard from you at all."

"Dad told me not to. He was pretty damned clear about his feelings on the matter, if you recall." I had a little gravel in my voice when I said it and hadn't exactly planned to.

"Yes, but I thought once things calmed down..."

"Oh? Does he ask about me? Does he say he wishes I'd come for Christmas dinner? I imagine he doesn't." I snapped.

"Well, no." She was taken aback.

"Mom, look. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be snippy with you." I sighed, dialing in my irritation. I hadn't meant to snap at her. "And I'm really sorry about the way things went that day. It wasn't the way we wanted you guys to find out about us. I'm sure Amy told you we were planning to sit you guy down and talk about it eventually. I honestly don't think that it would have changed anything. It's not like I ever expected him to take it calmly. I'm not even sure I blame him for reacting the way he did. But we never meant to throw it in your face or hurt anyone."

"Probably not. You couldn't have been foolish enough to think we would be okay with... that." She made a face.

"No, I didn't. I don't expect you to accept it, and I don't think that she does either. But I love her, mom. I love her like I've never loved anything in this world." I paused and stared intently at her for a moment as my brain clicked some thoughts into place.

"Have you talked to her?" She asked.

"About a week and a half ago. She found me in Europe. First time I've seen her since that morning at your house." I didn't even think of it as "home" anymore.

"Europe?" Now she really looked surprised. I ignored the question. It didn't matter.

"I did what you asked in your letter. I stayed away from her for years. I loved her so much that I tried to let her move on with her life like you asked. Three years of no contact, and she never stopped looking for me. Hell, she flew all the way to London to find me. What does that tell you? And we have found that we love each other as much as we ever did. Probably even more. We didn't ask for this to happen. We never meant to fall in love. But it did happen. And it's real. And it's clearly not going away."

She started to cry softly. I passed her a napkin before continuing.

"Look, I've made a lot of mistakes in my life and I'm sure I'm going to make a lot more of them. But loving Amy isn't one of them. I ran like a coward for a long time, trying to honor your wishes to let her move on with her life. I'm done with that. All it did was hurt. Do you understand? You don't have to accept it. But do you at least understand that it is real?"

She slowly nodded her head at me.

"She's coming to live with me."

"I can't say I'm surprised." She said, sadly. "What do I tell your father?"

"I don't care. Tell him whatever you want." I shrugged. "He disowned me. No reason for his opinion to matter to me at all."

"Where are you going to be?"

"I don't really factor into your lives anymore, so I'll leave it to Amy to decide if she wants to tell you or not. I don't feel like it's my place to say." I replied. "But I'm sorry we hurt you, mom. I really am."

I took a bite of my burger and watched her as she looked at me for a long time not saying anything. Part of me wondered what had gotten in to me. I was surprised by how much I found that I really did not care what they thought anymore. I finished chewing the bite, suddenly realizing that I was no longer hungry, and swallowed. The loss of appetite was disappointing, considering how awesome it was to have a legitimate cheeseburger again. I tossed the rest of the burger on the plate.

Dropping my napkin in the middle of the plate, I grabbed my bag and stood up to leave.

"Take care of yourself," I told her, not really knowing what else to say.

"You too, Adam." she said. As I turned to walk away, she added. "You take care of her, too."

"I'll do my best, mom. I promise." I looked back at her with a small smile.

"I believe you." She smiled sadly. "I'm not okay with this. Don't misunderstand."

"I understand. I wasn't okay with it for a long time, either. We don't choose who we love. But she is the greatest thing in the world. I wouldn't trade her for anything." I put a hand on her shoulder. "Bye, mom."

I walked out the restaurant feeling like there might be some small hope for reconciliation with our mother. I knew better than to even think that about dad, but I was prepared to live with that. I called Amy and told her about the encounter. She was more than relieved that she would not have to be the one to tell mother about the upcoming move.

I met up with Jeff Miller later that afternoon and used his truck to bring the stuff from the storage unit to his art studio. We packed my paintings from the unit into padded shipping crates, along with the rest of my stuff. A shipping company would be picking them up to deliver to Greece in the coming days. Although he tried not to let me, I made sure to give him at least some compensation for his trouble.

Over dinner that night, I caught him up on some of the successes I had experienced with my art in Europe. I showed him pictures of some of my recent work and he approved of my progress. He was very pleased to hear about my success at the London show and was impressed that things were moving along for me at the pace that they were. Jeff and his wife, Becky, both expressed how glad they were to see that I was doing so much better than when they had last seen me. I thanked him again for his help during the hardest time of my life. When he dropped me off in front of my hotel for the evening, he passed me a couple of books that he asked me to bring to Theron for him. I promised that I would and headed inside.

Once I got checked in, I took a quick shower, then slouched on the bed and sent Amy a text.

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"Me either, baby! I'm so excited!"

"Did mom call you?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure she will."

I flipped channels on the TV disinterestedly. I'd overestimated the time that I would need to pack the storage room. The pile of stuff had grown in my memory over the years, forgetting that I had once kept everything I owned in a single room. Now I was left with nothing but time to kill until I would join Amy in Portland tomorrow. A few snags in shipping arrangements and her wrapping up some accounts in a responsible manner at the job that she was leaving had delayed things a bit. It had been just over two weeks since we had seen each other.

"Wish you were here." I texted, as I debated going down to the hotel bar. I elected not to, as I didn't want to risk bumping into someone I knew and getting trapped in a long conversation.

"Oh yeah? It wasn't that many years ago that you wouldn't have been caught dead typing those words."

"You were an obnoxious little brat then."

"I was your little brat, though."

"Not at the time."

"You know what I mean."

An image file arrived a moment later. I opened the file and a photo of her back, wearing my dress shirt, taken in a mirror. About two thirds of her majestic ass was visible below the shirt with only the line of a thong obscuring the view. I stared at it for a good ten seconds or so before responding.

"You're trying to make me go sit at the airport all night trying to switch to an earlier flight, aren't you?"

"Is it working? Do you like seeing your little brat's ass?"

"You've got me thinking pretty hard about it."

"The flight or my ass?"

"Fuck it. I'm going." I got up and started tossing the very few items I had unpacked back in my bag.

"What? Seriously?" Came the reply.

"Seriously. I'm sitting on my ass doing nothing. If I'm doing the same thing at the airport, then I can maybe get there that much sooner."

"I'll be waiting!"

I grinned when I saw her text and dropped the phone on the bed, while I packed my laptop away. Once everything was packed, I went back down to the front desk and turned my key in to a very perplexed looking hotel employee.

"Was there a problem with the room, Mr. Matheson?" They asked nervously.

"Not at all. I just realized I have somewhere else I need to be." I smiled, as I dialed the number for the cab company.

As I climbed into the cab a few minutes later, my phone vibrated with another message from Amy.

"Hell, if I had known that I only needed to sent a picture of my ass to get you out here, I would have sent it a week ago."

* * *

There wasn't an earlier flight. I sat in the damned airport like an asshole all night, doodling in a sketchbook while stuck in an uncomfortable chair. Patience is a virtue. Or something like that. My impatience to be with my sister caused me a very long night of no sleep. But that wasn't the first time that had happened, by any means. The positive side of being up all night in a airport cursing my impulsiveness was that it was daytime in Athens and I was able to answer Damian's emails pretty rapidly.

The four hour flight to Portland was uneventful and felt abnormally short when compared to the fifteen hours I had spent flying in from Athens. Admittedly, I had slept most of it. We had flights booked for Athens from Portland that left in three days, meaning I'd be spending somewhere in the neighborhood of nearly forty hours on planes in less than a week's time. I was not overly enthused about this, and had already depleted the stack of books I had brought with me to read in flight. A trip to a bookstore would be in order sometime in the next few days. When I walked out of the loading ramp into the terminal, I scanned the room for Amy. She was nowhere in sight.

I made it about ten yards into the terminal when I was suddenly attacked in the hundred and ten pound equivalent of a football tackle. Well, I imagine a football game featuring such a tackle would raise more than a few eyebrows, as my attacker wrapped her arms and legs around me and began kissing me with great ferocity. I did my best to return the kisses in kind, while fighting off my laughter. The laughter and smiles of a couple of onlookers seemed to have a slight calming effect on us and I was finally able to get some oxygen back in my lungs.