Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  The next day Nathaniel met with an old man who showed him a small dingy apartment, the walls yellowed with tobacco stains and the carpet so filthy he felt it sticking to his shoes. Nathaniel left the place craving a shower. He hoped Kelly had done better for himself. He lived just a few blocks away. If all the buildings in this neighborhood were that poorly maintained… Convincing himself he was playing the role of concerned citizen, Nathaniel used the GPS on his phone to map a route to Kelly’s address.

  Minutes later he was standing outside a brick building, cast-iron fire escapes winding their way down the façade. Nathaniel crossed the street, confirmed that the last name of ‘Phillips’ was listed among the mailboxes, and was severely tempted to push the buzzer. What would he say? He didn’t want to make the same mistake Caesar had, barging in and demanding another chance. Even being caught standing in front of the building would seem creepy rather than charming, so Nathaniel continued on to the nearest subway station.

  On his way he spotted an art gallery and stopped to look in the window. The place specialized in photography. Considering the close proximity to Kelly’s home, it seemed likely he would be represented there. Nathaniel went inside, eager to find out. He examined each photo carefully, challenging himself to recognize Kelly’s work by content alone. He made his way along all the walls in this manner, not finding what he was looking for.

  Nathaniel turn to face the room. “Do you have anything by Kelly Phillips?”

  The owner walked over to him, repeating the name a few times. “Afraid not, sorry. What’s his style? Maybe we have something similar.”

  “You don’t. He’s a local artist.”

  The owner shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not familiar with him.”

  “He was one of the hottest fashion models a few years back,” Nathaniel said, taking out his phone and pulling up a picture to show him.

  The owner peered at it. “Are you looking for photos of him or—”

  “No, he’s a professional photographer and artist now. He had a huge exhibition in Austin recently. Just a second.” Nathaniel went to the website for the Eric Conroy Gallery, hoping Tim had his shit together when it came to PR. He wasn’t disappointed. Not only did the website feature an extensive biography of Kelly and his work, but it also included photos from the gallery opening.

  “That’s quite the crowd!” the owner said, dollar signs in his eyes.

  “Kelly has his fans.”

  “You say he’s local?”

  “He lives in this neighborhood, in fact.”

  The owner narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you his agent?”

  Nathaniel laughed. “No. I work for Studio Maltese. Used to, anyway. You’ve heard of our catalog?”

  The owner nodded. “In fact I have!”

  “Let’s just say that photos of Kelly still rake in money for the studio. I expect the photos he takes will be equally valuable. You should get some in here, see what happens.”

  “Kelly Phillips,” the man repeated. Then he hurried to his desk. “You know, I believe he was in here a few months back. He dropped off his portfolio, but we aren’t taking on new artists and… Yes! Here it is!”

  “If you don’t have room, you don’t have room,” Nathaniel said casually. “It was nice talking to you. Best of luck with everything.”

  He left the gallery, keeping a straight face until he was out of sight. Then he turned around and walked backward a few paces, imagining Kelly passing the gallery every day on his way to catch a train, increasingly frustrated that his work wasn’t displayed there. Everyone’s an artist in New York. Everyone except me. Had any of the local galleries given him a chance?

  Nathaniel decided to find out. He stopped to get a coffee, searching for galleries that specialized in photography and making a list of the nearest and most prominent. During the next week, while continuing his apartment hunt, he stopped at these galleries, never finding Kelly’s work but always casually promoting him before leaving. Some owners were apathetic, but most were salivating with greed by the time Nathaniel left. He always remained anonymous. Kelly preferred to earn his own success, so he probably wouldn’t be grateful for Nathaniel’s assistance. Regardless, he hoped these efforts helped jump start his reputation.

  After a few days, curious if his efforts were having any impact, Nathaniel returned to the original gallery. He decided to go late at night when the gallery was closed so his repeated presence wouldn’t cause suspicion. First he strolled by Kelly’s building, glancing up at the lit windows and wondering which belonged to him. Then he made his way to the gallery, where he amused himself by pressing his nose against the window. His smile soon faded. The display had changed. Three new photos hung in one corner. One in particular caught his eye, causing goosebumps.

  Nathaniel returned the next morning a few minutes after the gallery opened, not caring how this appeared.

  “Guess what we got in?” the owner said cheerfully.

  “I saw,” Nathaniel said, heading for the corner. “Have any of them sold yet?”

  “No, but that’s not—”

  “Good. This one is mine.” He stopped in front of an image of a Siberian Husky leaping through the water, front paws in the air, hind legs still partially submersed and surrounded by froth. The animal appeared elemental, a wave in the shape of a dog. His dog. Zero. Nathaniel’s eyes stung. He rubbed at them, feeling more homesick than he thought possible.

  “Animal lover?” the owner asked, clearly puzzled.

  “Yeah,” Nathaniel managed. He glanced over at the accompanying placard. The title of the piece was The Best Cure. The asking price was ridiculous. “I’ll take it.”

  Only when he was back in his hotel room did he wonder if this was a message from Kelly. Had the owner of the gallery said enough to give him away? If so, maybe the image and its title were suggesting that Nathaniel should overcome his heartache as he had before—with the help of his best friend. Maybe Kelly was saying he hoped the hurt would stop for them both some day. Or perhaps it was complete coincidence. Either way, Nathaniel needed to make a decision, to act soon or get over Kelly completely. After thinking about it carefully for many hours, he grabbed his phone and called Marcello.

  “How are matters progressing?” his former boss inquired.

  “They aren’t,” Nathaniel said. “Listen, I need a favor.”

  “Name it and it shall be done.”

  “I need an escort. The hottest one you’ve got. Just make sure he’s clean. And discreet.”

  Marcello chuckled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  * * * * *

  For Nathaniel, morality wasn’t a complicated issue. Don’t steal, lie, cheat, or kill. Simple as that. Usually. Morality did have some gray areas, such as using someone’s phone to track his exact location. He and Kelly had been close enough at one time to share their passwords. If anything is more taxing than breaking up with a lover, it’s creating new passwords for multiple accounts, then having to remember them all. Nathaniel hadn’t bothered. Kelly hadn’t either. That meant the app normally used to track down a lost phone could also be used to follow a lost love. Nathaniel had resisted doing so. Until now.

  He stood outside the club, shifting from foot to foot while repeatedly checking his watch. He knew Kelly was inside. So was Harold the escort. His name might be goofy, but the guy was so hot that it was possible to get aroused just by looking at him. Nathaniel knew this for a fact, but he wasn’t interested in sampling his wares. Instead, he was more concerned with whether or not he was skilled enough to get the job done.

  Nathaniel checked his watch again, still amazed that someone could be confident enough to time such a task. “I’ll need twenty minutes,” Nathaniel said out loud, mimicking Harold’s dry tones. “And that’s me taking it slow.” Then he rolled his eyes and pushed against the club door, making his way inside.

  His arrival went unnoticed, which was good, because at the far end of a u-shaped bar sat Kelly, Harold next to him. They were talking
in the dim light, Kelly shaking his head and smiling. What a smoking hot pair they would make! Maybe that’s what would happen. Nathaniel’s plan wasn’t great. He was taking a risk, but that was better than doing nothing. He went to the corner of the bar nearest the door and quietly ordered two glasses of champagne. He checked his watch, wishing the bartender would hurry. Harold had turned sideways to face Kelly, putting a hand over his. Kelly was biting his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

  The bartender slid two glasses of champagne across the slick surface. Nathaniel handed him a bill, his attention not leaving the pair as Harold leaned closer. Kelly closed his eyes and did the same. Then they were kissing, which clawed at Nathaniel’s heart more than he had expected. He stood, picked up the glasses of champagne, and walked to where they sat. The kiss was still ongoing when he reached them, so he cleared his throat.

  Kelly broke it off first, looking up at him and not registering surprise. Not in the slightest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Nathaniel cleared his throat again, nervously this time. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to say hello. And that I hope you’ll be happy together.”

  He offered the glasses of champagne, which were accepted. Kelly took a sip, made a sound of appreciation, and then looked him over. “Wow. You saw me kissing another guy, and instead of punching him, you bought him a drink. You’ve clearly grown as a person.”

  “Uh…” Nathaniel felt like retreating. Obviously his ruse wasn’t working or Kelly would have been more startled. Or more impressed by his maturity, as planned. Instead he was smirking and shaking his head.

  “You can leave now,” Kelly said.

  Nathaniel’s stomach sank.

  Then Harold stood.

  Kelly watched him rise. “It was good seeing you again. Take care.”

  “You too.” Harold chugged his champagne, managed to look hot while burping indiscreetly, and winked at Nathaniel. “Good luck.”

  After he was gone, Kelly patted the empty stool next to him. “Sit down. You’re an idiot.”

  “Am I?” Nathaniel asked, accepting his invitation.

  “Yes. That was an extremely stupid plan.”

  “It was either that or get extensive plastic surgery so you’d think we’d never met before.”

  Kelly smiled. “I’m sure I would have recognized a certain part of your body. I can’t believe you came all this way! But I’m glad.”

  Nathaniel swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d feel that way.”

  “I do. I was an emotional mess the last time we met. And tired. I don’t want that to be our last memory of each other.”

  “Me neither,” Nathaniel said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Kelly studied him. “You’re here because you wanted to prove that you can handle being hurt. How did it feel seeing me kiss another guy?”

  “I wasn’t crazy about it,” he admitted. “But I’ll survive. How did you figure it all out?”

  “Harold was in the gay youth group for a time. We don’t know each other well, but him being in New York and us running into each other seemed too big a coincidence. So I asked him, and he told the truth. We have history. Not much, but that wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed. How does that make you feel?”

  Nathaniel sighed. “Also not thrilled, but these days I’m much more concerned with who you love. And how willing you are to keep on loving him.”

  “Good. For the record, Harold and I have absolutely nothing in common. His idea of a good time is getting really high and building train models. Except without the trains. He just likes the little people and houses.”

  “I’ve been into that myself lately,” Nathaniel said with a straight face.

  They both laughed.

  “I’m also aware of your other activities,” Kelly said. “Do you know how many galleries have contacted me recently? They keep talking about a fan of mine, some huge guy who couldn’t stop raving about my work.”

  “He sounds nice,” Nathaniel said. “You should hang out with him sometime.”

  “Okay.”

  Nathaniel waited for an eye roll or a head shake, but neither came. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Kelly said. “Since you came all this way, I’ll show you around the city. Starting now. Let’s get out of here.”

  Nathaniel stood, happy when Kelly left the still-full glass of champagne where it was. Plying him with alcohol wasn’t part of the plan. “Where to first?”

  Kelly didn’t answer the question. “One more thing,” he said. “This isn’t a second chance. We aren’t testing the waters. I simply want us to end on a high note. Not trapped in an office while unleashing our inner demons. This is the grand finale.”

  Nathaniel’s throat was tight, but he nodded. “Then let’s make it a good one.”

  * * * * *

  The subway took them to a Brooklyn soup and sandwich cafe that Kelly promised would be a culinary experience. The soup was fine, but the conversation was better. Kelly was in high spirits, talking about his travels during their time apart and telling little stories, both funny and personal. His voice never carried a trace of accusation or a hint of bitterness. His questions to Nathaniel weren’t probing. At least not in the sense that he still sought an explanation. Instead Kelly seemed at peace with everything that had transpired between them and was simply grateful to have these last few hours together.

  “I like New York,” he said when Nathaniel asked. “I’m just not sure if it’s home. I feel like I’m beginning to lose sight of the details. This city is full of so much noise that I can’t focus on any one theme. Everything is overlapping, built on the ruins of previous dreams, painted and plastered over and used again. It’s beautiful in its own way, but my camera is confused, and I’m still struggling to find an empty space where I fit in. I’m feeling more optimistic since the galleries started calling. You’ve shown me that I can’t wait for an empty space. I need to make one by elbowing my way in and refusing to budge.”

  Only when they were wandering through Prospect Park, a light breeze swaying the trees around them, did his tone become melancholy. They had left the path and walked across the grass, a wall of bushes halting their progress. They stood in this little remnant of nature, too far from artificial lights to truly see each other. Kelly spoke first.

  “I want to apologize for how I acted that night at Marcello’s office. I was upset. Not just for the obvious reasons. You kept so much from me when we were together, but I fell in love with you anyway. That made me feel foolish, because how can you love someone without truly knowing who they are? But I did anyway. After we went our separate ways, I wondered if that love could withstand knowing the truth, if anything from your past could prove those feelings false. I shouldn’t have worried. The more you talked, the more certain I became. I might not have known all the details, but you’re still the man I fell in love with.”

  “You know what I’m going to ask,” Nathaniel said.

  “Why,” Kelly said. “You want to know why we can’t be together now.” He fell silent. In the distance came the burble of drunken laughter. The muted beat of hip-hop music. The muffled sound of traffic. Kelly collected his thoughts before he spoke again. “I understand your fear. I didn’t at the time. When we were breaking up, you kept telling me how you couldn’t handle the pain, couldn’t experience that sort of loss again. Afterwards I came really close to losing it. But I didn’t. I survived and I healed as much as possible. You have too. I think we’ve both learned from our time together. There’s probably someone out there for each of us who will benefit from that experience.”

  “I don’t want them,” Nathaniel said. “I want you. I’m thinking of moving here.”

  Kelly exhaled. “You need to go home. This isn’t where you belong. This isn’t even where I belong. It’s just an experiment before I move on and keep looking for the right place.”

  “We had the world,” Nathaniel said. “Remember travelling together? All those littl
e expeditions before we returned home again to a worn-out couch and an ornery dog?”

  Kelly laughed quietly. “Yes. Those were rich times.”

  “They aren’t lost. We can—” His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, Nathaniel cursing technology. He fiddled in his pocket to reach the right button to make it stop. “Maybe we could travel together, get away from everything and see if we can’t find that magic again. No promises or expectations. Just us in a neutral environment. You want a grand finale? Let’s make it as grand as possible. Not just carrot soup and a stroll through the park.”

  “Carrot ginger soup,” Kelly corrected. “Come on, it was pretty epic! Did you taste the coriander?”

  “If I pretend I did, will you at least think about it? One last adventure together, and maybe the start of a new one. Please.” He reached out to take Kelly’s hand. His pocket vibrated again, but he refused to acknowledge it.

  “Sounds like a swarm of angry bees is living in your pants,” Kelly said.

  Nathaniel sighed. “Sorry. I’ll turn it off.” He pulled out the cell phone, barely glancing at the screen as he held down the power button. He released it just in time to stop the phone from shutting down. Ten text messages, three missed calls. That was unusual. The phone vibrated again. Incoming call from Sheila. Nathaniel glanced up, Kelly’s face lit by the ambient light.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Take it if you need to.”

  Nathaniel tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Nathaniel?” Sheila sounded panicked. “Oh, thank God! I’ve been trying to reach you all night.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  There was an ugly sniff on the other end of the phone. “It’s Zero. There’s been an emergency.” Sheila sobbed. “It’s pretty bad.”