He grew up here, more or less, learning how to hang new works and slowly getting comfortable talking to the patrons about them. Mrs. Floral coached him with such patience that she should get a prize. He found his love for art and experienced the electricity under his skin whenever he discovers a new piece that moves him. He found himself here too. Mrs. Floral was the second person he told, after Mela, that he likes boys. She taught him how to drink coffee without cream and stayed with him after closing hours all through high school to help him finish his homework when it seemed too difficult. Losing the gallery is terrifying, not only because it’s so important for Mrs. Floral—it’s her life work—but also because of what it means to him. If the gallery closes, what’s left of him?
Maybe, maybe they can pull this off.
The next second, the front door bangs open and Cruella—Gloria—sweeps in. She’s wearing fur, even though the weather is still quite warm.
“Todd!” she exclaims and flings her arms out, as if she’s expecting applause for showing up. She’s in a glittering dress under the fur and wears shoes with little fluffy balls at her toes. Per usual, she’s wearing bright red lipstick and has styled her hair in stiff, unmoving waves over one shoulder. It’s as if she’s walked straight off the pages of a comic book.
“Gloria.” He greets her. Despite owning the gallery next door, her visits are surprisingly rare. They have never come with anything but bad news, either.
“How’s business?”
“Pretty good.” He leans against the counter. “How are the minks?”
Eyebrows drawn together, she looks at him, then shakes her head, clearly deciding that he’s not worth a follow-up question.
“It just looks a tad empty, doesn’t it?” She gestures around the room.
“It’s Thursday evening. We’re closing in ten minutes. People are having dinner with their families.”
“It’s such a pity in such a picturesque… atmosphere.”
Rolling his eyes, Todd bites his tongue. “Did you have anything to say?”
She looks at the list in front of him where he has been writing down names of potential exhibitors. He turns it over as she steps closer.
“No. I just wanted to check in and see how you are doing.”
“It’s Mrs. Floral’s gallery,” Todd reminds her.
“That’s impossible to forget.” Then she breezes out, letting the door bang shut, without saying goodbye.
“Was it something I said?” Todd says under his breath. Shaking his head, he logs out of the register, before locking the front door and going to the office and Mrs. Floral.
“Cruella was here.”
“Todd.”
“What? She looks the part, with the fur and all.”
She shakes her head, unable to hide her smile completely. “I can’t be angry with you for being rude behind her back when I know how hard you’re working to keep us afloat.”
“I really like this place.” Sitting on the edge of the desk, Todd looks at her. “This is, by far, the best job I could’ve asked for and you’re the best boss anyone could ever have. I’ll do everything I can to keep all of this, if it’s possible. I just feel like we need to try.”
“You are absolutely right. We should do all we can.” She squeezes his hand and then hesitates before she says: “What happened with that boy who was here with his parents? Daniel?”
Todd swallows. “I don’t know.”
“You very pointedly didn’t know him, but you sure seemed like you did.”
“I know.” He sighs, not wanting to talk about this, but Mrs. Floral is too nice for him to refuse her anything. “We met a few days before that and I was a bit interested until I learned that he wants this place.”
“Todd.” This time, when she says his name, it isn’t reprimanding but so very soft.
“I mean, I know, I know it’s not really true, but I can’t help but feel like, if I’m dating him, I’m betraying something that’s so important, that’s your life work, and a second home to the kids in our program, to me.” Getting to his feet, Todd grabs his jacket. “I’ll see you Sunday, Mrs. Floral.”
“Have a nice weekend, honey.”
They both know that he’s fleeing, and Todd expects her to bring this up again soon.
* * *
Todd has never been to a swim meet. Until the other day, he didn’t even know that they were called meets. Whatever he had imagined them to be like, this is different.
It’s extremely humid and surprisingly crowded. For some reason, Todd had expected the place to be empty except for him and Mela, but this is clearly a big deal.
“So, when’s Jesse up?”
“I don’t know.” Mela looks excited. She’s always liked sports and used to play softball in high school. Todd never understood the big deal with competing and all the exercise.
“I hope it’s soon. My hair is going to look like shit in two seconds.” Humidity is the arch enemy for his curls.
“Oh, please, it’ll totally be worth it when you can drool over Daniel.”
Todd glares at her, ignoring the sting in his chest. She knows everything and still she keeps teasing him like this, as if things are the way they were a month ago.
“You know that we’re not talking.”
“Have you tried?” she asks, voice light as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“No.”
“Maybe you should.”
“No,” Todd says again. “I was a dick to him.”
Mela looks at him for a long moment. Sometimes Todd thinks that they have been friends too long, because she doesn’t sugarcoat anything.
“So maybe start with an apology.”
Todd resists the urge to pull his knees to his chest. “I can’t. I need to focus on the gallery. It’s too important.”
The way Mela takes his hand is such a contrast to her deep sigh. “Sometimes you’re your own worst enemy.”
“I’m not.”
She elbows him in the ribs. “You need to talk to him about this.”
“I really don’t,” Todd mutters and tunes her out as the loudspeaker calls for contestants to line up.
Despite the humid air, the swimmers look bare in their suits. They are so focused on the task at hand, they don’t seem to realize that there’s a crowd looking at them.
“No Jesse or Daniel,” Mela says, just as Todd comes to the same conclusion.
“What if we have to be here all day?”
“You’ll live.”
They’re not the most eventful few heats in Todd’s opinion. Swimmers line up and off they go, until they’ve completed however many laps they’re doing this time around, and climb out of the pool. Rinse, repeat. Two schools are competing, and they seem to be fiercely competitive.
He straightens in his seat when a new set of swimmers takes their places on the white platforms. In the middle of them, lane five, is Daniel. Todd has no clue how he recognized him in that black, skintight suit, the cap, and goggles, but it’s definitely him.
“Is that Daniel?” Mela asks.
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation.
“I hope he wins.”
Todd doesn’t reply. When the loudspeaker calls for the swimmers to take their mark, he zeroes in on how Daniel curls over on the platform, gripping the edge, his body tense as a coil. Todd can’t read his face from here, but the way he holds himself shows how focused he is. Every muscle in his body looks as though it’s vibrating in anticipation.
The start buzzer sounds and there’s a flash of light, and they’re off. Daniel is fast. Todd knows nothing about swimming, but he’s just seen several heats, and, if he remembers the numbers on the scoreboard correctly, the other swimmers weren’t this fast.
He holds his breath when Daniel turns, and the guy next to him is not much behind. Digging
his fingers into his thighs, Todd leans forward and watches as Daniel somehow manages to pull ahead in the last few yards.
“Not so boring now, is it?” Mela asks, sounding smug, as Daniel climbs out of the water.
Todd can’t remember words, but manages at last, “Uh, sure.”
As it turns out, it’s more fun to watch someone you know compete. He has no clue why he’s surprised that both Jesse and Daniel win all their heats, but he is. Daniel did tell him that Jesse is the team captain and maybe that should have given him an idea of what to expect. Despite Todd’s lack of knowledge in the sport, he thinks that Jesse must be the best swimmer on their team.
“We’re gonna grab coffee afterward,” Mela tells him as the crowd thins.
“You didn’t tell me that.” He probably shouldn’t count on Daniel not coming.
“It’s not like I’m going to come watch him compete and then leave. Plus, you required me buying you coffee to even show up.”
That makes sense. Todd had assumed that he could sneak away unnoticed. That was really stupid of him.
The thought of seeing Jesse again is almost as stressful as the possibility of Daniel joining them. Todd lied to Jesse’s best friend. He wouldn’t be very keen on hanging out with someone who did that to Mela.
“Stop angsting.” Mela bumps into his side as they walk down the stairs together. “It’ll be fine.”
That’s easy for her to say.
Todd’s stomach is in knots while they wait outside. Sure enough, when Jesse exits the building, Daniel is about two steps behind him. Todd doesn’t miss the way Daniel’s steps falter when their eyes meet.
His stomach grows heavy, as if he’s swallowed a dozen stones.
“Hi,” he greets, pleasantly surprised when Jesse gives him a shoulder squeeze and a friendly how’s it going? Todd doesn’t have an answer to that.
Daniel steps away from hugging Mela, and Todd wants to leave. Daniel’s hair is damp and there’s a shine in his eyes, making them look greener than Todd remembers.
“Hi,” Todd says again, not remembering where to put his hands or how to stand properly.
“Hi.”
“So, coffee?” Jesse asks, locking gazes with Daniel, who shrugs. For the first time, Todd notices that he signs as he talks. He’s only seen them interact once, the first evening Todd met Daniel, and then he must’ve been too drunk to realize that it was more than just hand gestures.
“Sounds good to me.”
Todd doesn’t like the coffee at the commercialized chains very much, but he’s not going to voice his opinion in this company.
Jesse picks a square table for them, giving them a side each. It takes a second for Todd to realize that it must be easier for Daniel to lip read if he’s able to see everyone around the table.
“I’ll get your usual,” Mela tells Todd as he puts his phone on the table.
Then he’s alone with Daniel, who’s looking a little to the left of Todd’s face. It’s such a contrast to the night they met, when Daniel’s intense focus had only been on him.
Sucking in a breath, Todd presses the HOME button on his phone. There’s missed call from Evan. Great.
“Who’s Evan?” Daniel asks suddenly, taking Todd by surprise.
Looking up, Todd finds Daniel’s gaze immediately. Swallowing, he goes for a shrug and breaks eye contact to delete the notification on his phone, careful to keep his face in Daniel’s line of sight. “Uh, my brother.”
“Your brother?”
Todd nods.
“Aren’t you going to call him back?”
“No.”
When he looks up again, he finds that Daniel is watching him with guarded curiosity in his eyes. It’s just there for a second before he looks away and the conversation is over.
The two minutes they sit in silence before Mela and Jesse return are tenser than Todd’s ever experienced. Daniel doesn’t even bother to pretend texting on his phone. He’s just looking the other way.
Todd concentrates on his coffee when Mela hands it to him. Daniel, on the other hand, politely partakes in the conversation. The way he talks to Mela makes Todd suspect that they have met several times. They even have inside jokes. Todd doesn’t miss the fact that Mela has learned to sign a few things as well, but Jesse seems to sign most of the things she’s saying, apologizing the few times he forgets.
What would things have been like now, if he hadn’t lied to Daniel? Would he be a part of the conversation too? Or would they had gone on that coffee date and then decided that there wasn’t anything between them to build on?
Swallowing, he puts his empty mug down. “I have to head home. Thanks for the company and congrats on the victories. Well done.”
He doesn’t quite look at anyone.
“You can’t stay longer?” Jesse asks, face falling.
“Nah, school stuff and all that.” Todd clears his throat. “Sorry.”
Daniel doesn’t say anything, not even goodbye. That’s okay. Todd doesn’t care.
* * *
Dad is in the kitchen when Todd gets home. The way he looks up and zeroes in on Todd makes it clear that his self-pity is showing.
“What happened?” Dad prompts and points to one of the kitchen chairs.
“What hasn’t happened?” Todd mutters but sinks down on the chair all the same.
“Take it from the start.”
Todd considers saying no and going to his room. But the truth is, he’s lonely. Everything with the gallery and with Daniel is wearing on him. It has been for a while now, and he’s tired.
“Well,” he starts, fiddling with the newspaper on the table. “A month ago, give or take, I met this guy when I was at a party with Mela.”
Glancing up, Todd finds Dad stirring the pot with his back turned, but he nods, humming.
“He was great. You know, nothing what I thought I would be interested in, but ticking all the boxes I didn’t know I had, kinda.”
Dad hums again.
“And we hung out all night and decided to see each other again. It was all good, until I find out that he’s trying to take the gallery and turn it into… something else.”
Dad looks up then, frowning. “He spent time with you just to get more information about the business?”
Todd shakes his head. “No, I think he was just as surprised to find me there as I was to see him walk through the door.”
“So it’s nothing personal from his side?”
“No.” Todd pauses. “It’s a coincidence. The gallery isn’t doing that great financially and he needs a space for his thing.”
“I take that this is upsetting you?”
“It’s so important to me, and I’m so scared of losing it. I can’t help that I feel like he’s trying to take it from me.”
“Todd,” Dad says, voice soft. He puts the ladle on the counter and removes the stew pan from the stove. “Why would you look at it that way?”
Because it’s easier than being helpless and sad.
“I don’t know.” Todd would be more upset if it wasn’t for Dad using the same voice he had when Todd was fourteen and not doing that great in school. Todd remembers so well how he had expected a lecture, fully aware that Evan excelled, but instead had been told that the only person he had to do justice to was himself. It was easier to make an effort after that, to see every passed test as a victory. To him, passing has never been a small feat.
“These are two separate issues.” Dad pulls out another chair. “The gallery is not doing well, and the landlord is looking for other potential renters. That’s the first issue.” Dad holds up a hand when Todd opens his mouth to explain. “And then there’s another, with this boy that you’ve met, who’s trying to start some kind of business, and he’s looking for somewhere to have it. If he doesn’t rent the space should the gallery close, then someone
else will. The survival of your gallery doesn’t depend on him wanting the space or not.”
“But it’s… the gallery is so important to me and to Mrs. Floral. It’s all she has. She’s put all her money into this. He’s trying to take that away.” Todd knows that he’s sounding like a petulant child, and, somewhere in the back of his mind, there’s a little voice saying that Dad might be right. It’s just not what he needs to hear right now.
“Think about it and try to talk to him if you want some answers.” Dad reaches over the table to ruffle his hair before he goes back to the stove.
Todd gets up from the chair, suddenly drained and with his temples tight, as if he has a headache coming.
“Go get some rest,” Dad says. “I’ll call for you when it’s time for dinner.”
“Thanks.”
Todd buries himself under a pile of blankets and keeps his mind busy with completing this week’s quizzes. Dad’s put his head in a spin with a bunch of unwelcome thoughts. The last thing he wants right now is to consider that maybe he was wrong.
* * *
As it turns out, asking Giselle’s friends is less easy than he thought. Giselle is reluctant, possibly worried that they will be competition. Todd can understand that, but he also knows that one college student isn’t going to be enough to save his safe space and Mrs. Floral’s retirement. It doesn’t matter how talented she is or how great a career she will have in a few years. Her name just isn’t that well known yet. She’s not enough to save them.
“I was contacted by a California-based artist yesterday,” Mrs. Floral tells him during his shift the following day. It’s exactly what he needs to hear. Unpacking pieces, fighting the sticky tape, isn’t such a hardship suddenly.
Todd pauses, freeing his index finger from an especially stubborn piece of tape. “Really?”
“Yes. He’s seen our webpage and wants to showcase.”
He can’t keep himself from smiling at her use of webpage. “I assume you said yes?”
“Of course.” She smiles, and Todd wipes his hands on his jeans before he hugs her.
While things are going better with work and school is going steadily according to plan thanks to late nights and not enough sleep, everything Daniel is going really bad.
Brush Strokes Page 8
