I Read A Lot Ch. 03

"You could come with me?" Tom asked softly. "You would have to put up with more questions, but it's usually worth it. Amy is a really good cook."

I looked into his eyes to see if he was just being polite by asking me to join him, or if maybe he really wanted me to say yes. What I saw was someone who was a little afraid I would say no, but hoping I wouldn't. When I nodded and smiled, he smiled broadly and I thought that he had gotten twice as good looking. Part of me really wanted to kiss him, even though we were standing outside in public. Mostly, I think I wanted to be kissed. I'm not that comfortable initiating, so I was hoping that Tom might move in a little and start something. Instead, he offered to drive me home, but the evening was too perfect, and I kind of wanted the exercise to clear my head.

Painting and drawing has always been a kind of escape for me. When I'm in the middle of an idea and I'm working it out on canvas or paper, I can be lost in my own world for hours. Sometimes I like to be very representational: I can get totally absorbed drawing a still life of dirty dishes and half-crumpled newspapers on the kitchen table. Other times, something about an image or thought captures my imagination and I will just explore that without trying to make the image look like anything in particular. That kind of work feels a lot like when I read poetry: impressions and images combine to shed light on something.

When I'm in the middle of a really productive phase, I don't pay much attention to the rest of the world around me. I kind of forget to eat, I sleep when I can't stand up anymore, the phone rings but I don't hear it.

That night after leaving Tom, I picked up my big sketch pad and just started drawing. I didn't have any plan or aim to my drawing and I doubt that anyone but me would have any idea what it was I was trying to get down on paper. Flash images kept coming to me and I was trying to capture them before another sped through my brain. It felt like I was trying to take dictation from my memory.

At some point, my roommate Sandra and her boyfriend came home and talked to me for a bit, but I didn't remember anything they said. Later I heard some noises from her room and realized that they were making love. After that it was quiet and my mind became very focused until I suddenly saw from the window that it was getting light outside. I had to be at the bookstore in four hours and hadn't slept at all.

Closing my sketchpad, I finally stopped and went into my room. Since this is something that has happened before, I have heavy shades on my windows and this was a time I needed them. With the room totally dark, I stripped and crawled into bed. I was going to be a little rough around the edges for the rest of the day, but the amazing feeling of working so long left me floating.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around, I felt I had basically recovered from my drawing binge. I was outside of my own head enough to be able to talk to people and I'd had enough sleep that I wasn't yawning constantly. Sandra had been making snide remarks about my strange hours and how hard it was living with an oblivious artist. I bit my tongue not to shoot back some snarky replay about administrative assistants. Honestly, I had little defense, I'm sure it was hard to understand to people who didn't love what they did so much that time stopped moving.

Tom showed up fifteen minutes early. Well, I thought it was early; he insisted that he was on time, in order to get to Henry and Amy's at the right time. My hair was wet, I hadn't picked out a shirt and I had no idea where my decent shoes had gone to. I sort of scowled at him when I complained about not knowing what to wear and he laughed at me and walked into my room to my closet. I barely knew the guy and he was about to pick out my clothes? I don't think so! It made me want to wear something totally opposite, just to be contrary. But he found a long sleeve shirt in soft blue I had totally forgotten about and he was right, it was perfect. I'd find a way to get back at him later.

***

Tom

Taking Gabe to Henry and Amy's for dinner felt oddly like taking my boyfriend home to meet my folks. In a way, it was probably as close as I would ever get. Henry and Amy were so much like my family that I hardly even missed mine anymore.

Henry had been my friend for so long that we can't remember when we started hanging out with each other. After college, I could have moved anywhere with a job offer, but I knew that Henry was going to stick around and so I made the effort to stay close. Once I started my job, I met Amy. She was a year older and so energetic, she made my head dizzy. One evening, a bunch of us went out for drinks and Henry joined us. I had only been bugging him for weeks to come. Since he had started graduate school, he was so busy studying, he was in serious danger of becoming a hermit. But my bugging paid off. I casually introduced the two of them and then went off to play darts until I was sure they were thoroughly into each other. That was five years ago and they have been married for almost four.

In lots of ways, Amy likes to pretend she's my Mom, and since I don't really have anyone to fill that role, I sometimes let her. Sunday dinners were a way to make sure that I ate a few vegetables and gave her a chance to question me about my personal life. I knew that bringing Gabe to dinner was a little like bringing a lamb to the slaughter, and I felt bad about that. Yet, I had this crazy idea that Henry and Amy might like Gabe as much as I did. Or as much as I think I was beginning to.

Never having 'dated' anyone before, I was a little unprepared for Gabe not to be ready to go when I got to his place. I'm used to meetings, schedules, and deadlines. So when I saw him wandering around dreamily wondering what to wear, I was totally taken off guard. Part of me wanted to remind him of the value of punctuality, like he was a college intern at work. Then when I allowed myself to see the vision of his bare chest and feet standing in front of me, hair wet and messy, I had a hard time not locking his bedroom door and pushing him onto the bed. Promising myself that I might try a little of that later, I opted for handing him a clean shirt so we could get going.

After driving through town a while and finally finding a parking spot, we walked the short distance to Henry and Amy's place. They lived in an old brick apartment building that was three stories high and had been turned into condos years before. The red brick building only had three condos, each taking up an entire floor. Gabe raised his eyebrows a little when we went inside. It wasn't posh, but it was well-kept up.

"I love this old place," I said as we walked up the stairs to the top floor.

Gabe was looking around a little. "It's out of a different era, isn't it? Fantastic that no-one has ever modernized the character out of it."

Once at the top, we could see that the door was already open, which usually meant that the couple were expecting more guests.

"Henry," I shouted in mock bewilderment. "Where are you?"

I soon saw him come out of the front study with a phone at his ear. He looked stern and concerned, which when combined with his narrow face and knife-edged features looked a little intimidating.

"No, I heard every word you said," Henry said into the phone. "It's just been a long time since we saw you and I think maybe we should spend some time together." More listening, and Henry just stood by us. "Yeah, that's fine Scott. I understand. I'll tell Amy. Okay, bye." Henry beeped off the phone and heaved a huge sigh.

"What?" I said. "Is he coming late?"

"Nope," Henry responded. "Not coming." Then he put aside that whole mess and turned to Gabe to welcome him. "But you came and that more than makes up for it. I was hoping that maybe this time I would get a chance to talk with you a little, since Amy completely monopolized your time at the bar. Come on into the kitchen and we'll have a beer and watch Amy work. It drives her crazy to be seen as the little woman." Henry winked and led the way.

In the kitchen, Amy looked like a conductor of a culinary orchestra. Pots steamed, vegetables sat patiently and the room had the feeling that something big was about to begin. Amy rubbed her hands on her apron and bounded over to me to give me a big welcome-hug. Then she gifted Gabe with the exact same hug.

"Oh thank god you're here," she said, pushing her hair from her brow. "It's getting down to crunch time and I could use your help, Tom. Henry won't chop onions, so I saved that for you. I know we're only five tonight . . ."

"Four," Henry interrupted. He shot her a meaningful look as he stepped up and handed out the beers.

"He cancelled?" She asked with awe in her voice. "The bastard cancelled?"

"Gabe and I are going to get out of the hot zone while you and Tom finish up," Henry kissed her cheek and left with Gabe.

"What's going on, Amy?" I asked. As I listened, I went to the hook by the fridge and grabbed my usual apron. Amy never felt entirely comfortable unless she had someone to order around, so on Sundays, I stepped up to the plate.

"It's Jen and Scott," Amy said and she looked totally bereft and on the verge of tears. "I think he might be cheating on her and I don't know what to do."

And with that, I pulled out a stool for Amy, set her on it and got to chopping. While I worked, she occasionally stopped so she could tell me the next thing to do, otherwise, I just let her talk. Not normally an emotional woman, Amy's reaction was unusually strong. At one point, I got a clean dish towel so she could wipe her eyes. She tried to tell me it was the onions, but I knew better.

Jen had been Amy's roommate freshman year of college and they had immediately bonded. They had been best friends for almost ten years, and they shared everything. Jen and Scott had been together since High School and eventually they got married. Now Jen was trying to finish up her PhD and had was spending the semester on Africa doing research.

"I've been skyping with Jen and she is crazy upset. Scott cancelled his plans to visit her in Ghana. He says he just too busy."

"Oh Christ," I said and laid down my knife for effect. And with that Amy started crying again.

"Henry," I called. "Get in here, man. Your wife is leaking."

Then Amy started laughing through her tears. Henry came in and hugged her and we all started laughing. There was no way I was going to spend the day with my friends talking about some jackass, so I was very glad when we all changed the subject and just had a good time together. We talked, laughed and had a relaxing time. I decided to be bold and at the end of the meal, I moved my chair a little closer to Gabe's and put my hand on the back of his chair.

"I propose," Amy said with a raised finger and a look of inspiration. "I propose that we walk to Bella's for dessert. I want chocolate!"

Bella's was this amazing bakery/café that was unfairly located close to Henry and Amy's place. They had the most amazing mousse and gelato and tarts and, and, and. We grabbed our jackets, since it was still early spring and a little chilly, and started to walk towards decadence. Up ahead of Gabe and I, Amy and Henry walked hand-in-hand. I had an impulse to grab Gabe's hand, but quashed it since I didn't think we were quite at the "public displays of affection" stage.

The café was a busy with folks who all had the same idea. Inside it was warm and fragrant with sweet smells and coffee aroma. When I asked Gabe what he wanted from the case, I saw him staring at a small sign.

"Do you think they mean it?" Gabe indicated the call for artists. It looked like the café wanted to encourage young artists to display their work at the café.

"Well, sure they mean it," I responded. I didn't understand what his point was. Then a brain wave flashed through my head. "Are you thinking that you might be able to show your work?"

"I don't know," Gabe said with humility. "This place kind of has a reputation for not taking just anyone's work."

"Really," I said. "I mean, I know the food is fantastic and I've always noticed the art, but it has a rep?"

"Um, yeah," Gabe replied, finally meeting my eyes. "What if my stuff isn't good enough?"

I stared at him, at a total loss for words. Most of all, I wanted to reassure him that of course he was good enough, better than good enough. But I had never seen any of Gabe's artwork; he had never asked me to, so I couldn't be any sort of judge. Just then, it was our turn to order so I turned to speak to the counter-guy.

"May I ask how I would inquire about displaying artwork here?" I asked after I ordered. I felt Gabe grab the back of my sleeve.

"Are you an artist?" the counter guy asked. It could have been my imagination, but I thought he looked at me dubiously.

"No, not me," I replied. "My friend is interested in finding a venue for his work and wondered who he should contact." Gabe had no choice but to smile at the guy and look confident.

"Isabelle chooses the artwork. She's in the back right now," the counter guy indicated the back of the café. "I can see if she'd be available to talk with you, if you'd like?"

Gabe tried to talk, but his first attempt didn't make it out of his throat. He cleared it and tried again. "That would be very kind, but only if she isn't too busy."

The guy smiled a little too warmly at Gabe for my liking, but I let it go. If a bit of harmless flirtation got Gabe an opportunity to show his work, then all the better.

"I will murder you later Tom," Gabe grumbled into my ear as we came to our table.

I was carrying our dessert, a napoleon and a fruit tart, along with coffee. "Be nice or I'll eat your dessert," I said back and grinned at him. His smirk wasn't lost on Amy.

"Okay," she said. "How could you two be fighting already?"

"Tom decided to embarrass me," Gabe said. He explained the whole exchange, leaving out the flirting.

As we talked it over and ate like gluttons, Gabe seemed to relax a little and maybe he even forgave me a little. Just as I was thinking about licking my plate to get every last molecule of napoleon, I noticed a small woman in a white apron walk towards our table.

Isabelle was one of those rare people who have so much energy that it seems to spill out of them and fill up the space around them. She came to us and immediately introduced herself. Though she couldn't have been much more than five feet tall, she exuded the strength and personality of a giantess. I doubt her stature was the first thing anyone who had met her would have talked about when they described her.

Within minutes of the introductions, Isabelle and Gabe were deep in discussion about God only knows what. It was like they were in their own world, with their own language. Instead of being jealous that Gabe had found this woman with whom he could talk so easily, I decided to be happy for him. It wasn't often that anyone is understood so quickly and easily, and I had the feeling that I was witnessing the birth of a real friendship.

After a bit, I got up and refilled our coffee cups. Henry and Amy had left, explaining that Amy was tired and wanted to lie down for a while. When I got back to the table, I handed Gabe his coffee and sat down. I had tried to sit a little apart, to give him and Isabelle some space, but Gabe looked over at me and frowned. He held out his hand for me to hold and pulled me closer to him. This totally shocked me, since Gabe had yet to initiate contact, but I wasn't going to question him now. I sat next to him while he talked to Isabelle, holding hands and sipping coffee and I thought I had just landed in heaven.

Since Isabelle had a million things to do (and after meeting her, I think that may have been the literal truth) our stay in the café didn't last much longer. She and Gabe had arranged that he would bring over some things for her to look at during the week and then she bounded off. Gabe sat for a minute in dazed silence, still holding my hand. When he turned his head to look at me, his amber-lion eyes sparkled with ideas.

"I think," he said in his low-quiet voice. "I think I won't kill you." Then he lifted our joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my knuckles.

My eyes locked on Gabe's and I squeezed his hand. I had no intention of letting go, now that I had even a small part of him.

***

Gabe

The following days flew by a ridiculous blur; all I could do was paint and work. Since I still had to be able to pay my bills, I went to work at the bookstore, but I was completely distracted the whole time. My manager understood and tried to give me tasks that required as little attention as possible, so mostly I was at the register. I had shown Isabelle some drawings and a few completed works right after our initial meeting and she was excited to have my show up in only a couple of weeks. It was tight timing, but I was convinced I could do it.

If it hadn't been for Tom, I think I would have either starved or gone crazy.

My roommate, Sandra, had already been kind of uptight about my work, and this new binge of mine was looking like it would send her right over the edge. Since the apartment had been hers first, she considered the place more her apartment and treated me like I was renting a room from her. We had met through an ad on Craigslist. I figured that if I paid half the rent, then I should be allowed to use half the apartment. That was where we clashed. It was fine if I 'used' the rest of the apartment as long as I left it looking exactly like she liked it: tidy and pristine with arranged throw pillows on the couch. I think she thought that since I was gay and an artist, I would be sensitive to all that stuff. Oops.

There was no way I could only paint and draw in my room. First off, to stay cooped up in one small room all the time would drive me bonkers, like Van-Gogh bonkers. Secondly, my tiny bedroom had terrible light. The dining room, on the other hand, had almost-okay light. So that's where I proposed to do most of my work, in the dining room. Since Sandra never actually used the room, except to walk from the living room to the kitchen, I thought this would be a non-issue. Wrong! And when I said it would be impossible to clean up all my things every day to stow them in my room, all she could do was pout and storm around.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to think up either a solution or a really good comeback, when Tom called. I flipped open my cell phone and probably sounded like a sulking kid.

"Hey Tom," I greeted.

"Gabe," Tom said in a cheering voice. "Are you done at the store? If you want, I could come over and get you? Maybe we could grab a bite to eat before you get started on your real work?"

Aw, that was so sweet. Tom's thoughtfulness pulled my mind away from the negative thoughts I had been having. "I got off a little early, and I just got home. But I haven't eaten yet." Before I could suggest that I could make him something, he spoke in my ear.

"I'll be over in a little bit to take you out." Tom said. "I won't keep you from your work, but we both need to eat. I just need to shut down my computer, pack up and I'll be over, okay?"

After a few more words, we were off the phone and I sighed happily. Dinner out was just what I needed. And the more I thought about it, Tom was beginning to be what I needed. At least, he seemed to be who I wanted. But I couldn't quite tell if I was who he wanted. We got along great together: talked, laughed and truly enjoyed each other's company. The couple of times he had held my hand, I got all bubbly inside. When he had dropped me off last Sunday, after dinner at his friends' house, I think I wanted him to kiss me. But he hardly made a move, except for a great full-body hug. The question in my mind was: what did Tom want, and what would he do about it? Could it be possible that he was shy? There was no way I was ready to put myself out there just to get the romantic smack-down.