Art House

by Charley Descoteaux

  She laughed, but not too loudly. “No. If I told him what I was doing he’d just worry. He gets up to enough of that without my help.”

  “Okay. I want to say I’m glad you’re here, but….”

  “But you’re too smart to bank that I’m here for a reason you’ll agree is a good one.”

  “Something like that.” Chase hid his face behind the giant mug for a moment. He considered it a win that he hadn’t snorted out loud when she called him smart, but wasn’t in the mood to press his luck. Although given how hard it had been to talk with her at all, he probably didn’t need to worry. For some reason, which probably had nothing to do with the fact that he had to look up to meet her eyes, this woman made him feel shy.

  “That’s a good start.” She swirled the dregs of her coffee around in the mug, pretending to watch it while she watched Chase. “I wanted to see how you were doing. He’s worried about you—obviously not for nothing if you’re hermiting out and not eating.”

  “I was working. And hermiting. But mostly working.”

  “Painting?”

  “Yeah. When he leaves… he goes to your place?”

  Jess put her mug down—with a short look that was full of longing—and turned to Chase with a frown. “Yes. But you’re not—”

  “I don’t even want to know where it is. If I knew, I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from being an obnoxious stalker. He’d hate me.”

  “I don’t think he would. But I’m still not telling.” She leaned against the back of the couch and slid down a few inches. Chase didn’t really think it was something only Garrett did, but it was something he’d seen him do. Watching Jess do it hurt.

  “Can I get you a refill?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He took his time, even though what he really wanted to do was grill her about where Garrett was and how he was feeling and everything they’d talked about. Stalling didn’t help, but he was scared. He sat back down and spent a lot of time fixing up his coffee, and still she hadn’t said anything.

  “I’m glad you don’t hate me,” he said, without looking at her.

  “I did.”

  “Yeah. I got that the one time we met.”

  “You mean the time I stalked Garry and forced him to introduce us. That was a bad move. I don’t regret it, not really, but I did for a while. Couldn’t help myself. I had to meet the guy who swept in and changed everything.”

  “I did that?”

  “Yep. It’s okay. I couldn’t get him out of his mom’s apartment—not permanently—and you could. Turned out to be a good move, but it could’ve been really bad for Garry. Seems like you guys have a good thing going, when you’re not being dicks to each other.”

  “Yeah… about that. I didn’t—”

  “You were right. He doesn’t even remember what you said, not really, but I think I got the gist.” She twisted in her seat and pinned Chase in place with her eyes—intense, a beautiful dark brown with a few flecks of black around the irises, and bloodshot. “You saw him up on that scaffolding and had a vision of him falling. Maybe not by accident. He’s a little depressed right now, so your worry isn’t completely without basis.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine by himself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Yeah.” Chase stared into his mug until he realized he could see part of his own reflection.

  “If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “I went through something like this with him before. Scared the piss outta me.”

  “When was that?”

  “I’m not telling you every one of his secrets. If he wants to keep some things to himself, it’s not my place to blab. In case you haven’t figured it out, though, I thought it might help if you knew that once the yelling starts, he can’t hear you. You could be saying how much you love him and all he would hear is yelling.”

  “Oh.” Chase looked down at his hands, a little shaky around the mug. In his birth family, they had either yelled or not said anything. Starting the summer I was fifteen, anyway. He knew he had a quick temper but never thought he’d given Garrett any reason to be afraid of him.

  “Nothing to do with you. His mom had a string of boyfriends, some live-in, and most of them were as mean as her. The only one who bruised him got kicked out fast, but the others weren’t exactly father material. Not sure why, but nobody ever intervened.”

  Chase thought back to all the times Garrett had left. He might have seen a pattern there, but before he’d gone too far back, Jess rested a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. “Thank you.”

  Jess shrugged.

  “You love him too.”

  “Yeah. Not the way you do, but yeah.”

  Chase was skeptical and obviously couldn’t hide it very well.

  “I used to. But not anymore.”

  “Is that something you’ll tell me about?”

  “He broke up with me to move in with you.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. He could’ve kept it in his pants but he didn’t. That’s how I know he didn’t fuck the woman he was working for. Being that happy and that guilty at the same time almost ripped him in half.”

  They fell silent and drank coffee for a little while. Chase wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anything more, but he didn’t want the conversation to end either. Jess was his only link to Garrett, unless—until—he came back.

  “You call him Garry. He barely tolerates ‘Gare’ from me.”

  “I’m not supposed to but keep forgetting.”

  “Yeah?”

  Jess sighed. “I’m really not telling you his life story.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Jess looked at him closely, and Chase turned away. He wanted to know everything but knew better than to expect Garrett to tell him things that might make him uncomfortable. Should make my peace with never learning most of it.

  “If you ever meet his mom you’ll know.”

  “I have.”

  “Oh. No shit?”

  “No shit. My dad knows her a lot better than I do, though. Apparently.” Chase crossed his arms tightly over his chest. That didn’t seem like enough, so he crossed his legs too.

  “I see. I also see that you understand why he had to get away from her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She huffed, but he forced himself not to turn and look at her. “Your dad, is he a good man?”

  “Not really. No. They were really young, my parents. It’s not—”

  “Their fault. Jeez. Were you and Garrett separated at birth or what?”

  That brought a smile to Chase’s face, and he almost laughed. “Not quite.”

  “Not a touchy subject for you?”

  “What?” She kept quiet long enough for him to get antsy and peek at her.

  Mistake.

  Jess gave him a look that said she was disappointed in him, and also that she knew he realized she meant their age gap. “It is for him too. He thinks he’s not mature enough, or something.”

  Chase couldn’t keep from laughing at that ridiculous idea. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure he was more mature than you are now when he was twelve.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “And yet, that’s the way it was.” Jess sighed and scooted to the edge of the couch. Chase felt a moment’s panic until she turned to him, smiling grimly. “What’s a girl have to do to get you to spring for something chocolate?”

  “Oh. Sorry. What—never mind. I’ll be right back.” Chase spent more time than he needed to choose a half-dozen chocolate desserts. He had the sexy blond behind the counter put them in a box so Jess could take home whatever was left. He didn’t think he would be able to eat any of it if Jess had another revelation planned—already he felt like he carried the weight of the entire building on his back. The absence of Garrett had always been heavy, and he wasn’t gettin
g any younger.

  He put the box on the table and opened it, trying to smile as he gestured for her to help herself. “Thank you again for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you came out of the building today.” Jess grinned and lifted a frosted brownie from the box. “This was the third time I tried to catch you.”

  “You could have called. I would have met you.”

  She shrugged. “My apartment is a studio. I would’ve gotten caught rifling through his contact list.” Jess took a healthy bite and chewed thoughtfully. “This is good.”

  They shared a smile. Chase wondered if the fact that he hadn’t shaved since the day before Garrett left hid the fact that his chin was shaking. Judging by Jess’s look, it didn’t.

  “I should be encouraging him to go home. For the record, I did at first, but my apartment needs the cleaning.” She smiled and took another bite of brownie.

  “Garrett’s cleaning?”

  “It’s what I need. That’s what he does.”

  “He should take all the time he needs.” And I thought I couldn’t get more uncomfortable. The last thing Chase wanted to do was to think about everyone Garrett took care of.

  “You’re as bad a liar as he is.”

  Chase grinned and felt a little less shaky. “And that’s saying something.”

  “It sure is.” She finished up the brownie and wiped her mouth and hands with a napkin. “Don’t worry. He’s not sleeping with you because you need it.”

  “You’re a scary woman.”

  “Yes, I am. Let me see your phone a minute.”

  He handed it over and watched her thumbs fly across the keyboard.

  “I just texted myself about how much you enjoyed this conversation.” She handed Chase his phone back, and he held it carefully in both hands, as though it had suddenly become fragile. “So now we can talk anytime.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for the other text too.”

  “You guys really need to talk. About something important.”

  “If I get the chance, I’ll try.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Jess’s dry delivery gave Chase a little more hope that he’d be hearing from Garrett soon.

  Chapter Six

  GARRETT FELT a little guilty taking Jess’s key card but planned to be back before she had to get up for work. Hopefully, long before she woke up and noticed he was gone. He had his own key to her apartment, but it wouldn’t get him into the building. She had one of those fun-size chocolate bars in her pocket along with the key card, and he swiped that too, vowing to replace it with a full-size version.

  He hopped onto the last MAX train heading south and crossed the river. If Chase was still driving that damned pedicab, which was so far beneath him it was obscene, hopefully he at least kept to the same routes. Garrett walked along the brewery tour, as far as he could remember, looking for a good space. The route wound through the Pearl to a half-dozen of the trendiest brewpubs, and as far as Garrett could tell nothing new had sprung up within the past few weeks. He was tempted to go nuts on a small square of plywood covering a broken window on one of the breweries, but kept looking. His principles had relaxed since he first started tagging, but not that far.

  Tagging. While he searched for a good spot, he mused about his feelings for the term. He’d liked it a lot more when he was thirteen. It had sounded like he was a radical street artist and not just some random guy with a handful of Sharpies.

  There.

  A city-owned trash and recycling bin stood on the corner near the second stop on the tour. Taking care not to cover the instructions, Garrett used black and purple to leave his mark on the blue bin. It didn’t take long, but by the time he pocketed the pens and stepped back to look at it, his body trembled. Nothing had changed except his perception, but he hadn’t felt so exposed and vulnerable when he’d done this before. It had been years since he’d drawn his signature tag—his screaming profile with dandelion fluff blowing away instead of hair—but it looked the same as it had the first time.

  Shit, fourteen years ago.

  Garrett flipped the hood of his jacket up and walked away, surprised at what was going on in his mind. Even though he’d left the tag for Chase, he was thinking about his childhood. About the nights when he couldn’t stay in his mother’s tiny apartment one more second, couldn’t listen to the yelling or the fucking or whatever had been going on that particular night. The first time he’d left in the middle of the night he’d only been ten years old, but he remembered how he felt, walking in the dark through the streets of North Portland.

  Free.

  He’d gotten away, and for a few merciful hours it felt like he would never have to listen to any of the horrors that lived in that apartment again. Never have to hear anyone telling him to man up or criticizing the things he liked as too “girly,” never hide under his blankets and try to sleep through the sounds of violence in the next room.

  He had gone right to school in the morning. That was the first time he’d ever been glad to be on the free breakfast and lunch program at school. Free food had made everything easier, even though he hadn’t brought his backpack and got in trouble for forgetting his homework. Nobody asked any questions. Nobody seemed to know he’d walked around the neighborhood and then slept in the bus stop shelter across the street and came to school wearing the same clothes for two days in a row, or if they guessed anything was wrong, they didn’t care.

  Garrett—twenty-seven-year-old Garrett—had walked all the way back to the same bus shelter he’d slept in that night. He looked around at the North Portland neighborhood that seemed to have changed very little in seventeen years, and took out his Sharpies. He hunkered down and worked in silence until he heard a deep voice behind him.

  “What are you doing?”

  He froze for a moment and then pivoted on the balls of his feet to look up at the man attached to the voice. “Leaving pictures for the kids.”

  After a moment of silence, the man—the cop—cleared his throat. “Let me see.”

  Garrett stood and moved to the far end of the shelter. The cop hunkered down in his place and shone a flashlight on the plastic wall facing the elementary school building. Garrett realized he was probably in trouble, but all he could think about were the kids who would be walking past in the morning. How desperately he needed to think about even one of them seeing the kittens playing, and smiling.

  “Wow. That is so cool.” The cop sounded half the age he had before, young and happy. And a moment before, Garrett had been bracing himself, a familiar vague sense of violence about to happen crackling in the air around him. The abrupt change shocked him, and his answering thank you died in his throat.

  The cop stayed hunkered awkwardly in the corner of the bus shelter for a few seconds more and then stood. He shone his flashlight on the ground between their feet. “I have a job you’d be perfect for. If you’re interested. Can I get your card?”

  “Um… I don’t have a card.” Garrett wanted to ask what kind of cop didn’t care about graffiti but thought better of it. Even though his relaxed standards bothered him—the bus shelter didn’t belong to the city—he at least had the presence of mind to school his speech.

  “Do you have a kid in this school?” The cop tilted his head to indicate the elementary school down the block. He may have frowned a little, but not in a menacing way. More like he was trying to figure something out.

  “No. I grew up in this neighborhood. Sometimes school is sanctuary. Sometimes….” Garrett clamped his mouth shut and willed himself to stop talking before he ruined the officer’s goodwill and ended up in a jail cell.

  “I’m Andy.” The cop extended a hand.

  Garrett shook and introduced himself, even though his palm was slick with nervous sweat. The cop—Andy—spoke over him while he was saying his last name.

  “Take my card. Call me. For now, I’d suggest you finish up and go. My shift ends in about thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  A
ndy moved his flashlight onto the kittens again and played it across the bottom of the shelter wall. Garrett thought he might have been smiling. Andy waved a little as he left the bus shelter, and Garrett was left wondering exactly what had just happened.

  Regardless of what kind of job a Portland cop could have in mind for a guy he should have arrested, Garrett didn’t want to be caught by whoever replaced him after shift change. He added a tail on the last kitten—completing the heart shape he’d begun with the kitten standing on top of the ball of yarn—and headed back to Jess’s building.

  He knew she would still be alone inside, but every time he used his own key, he braced himself. The time he’d walked in on her with a naked, purple-haired girl sharing her bed would be etched in his mind forever. Even the thought of it got him a little hard—Jess’s long tan limbs tangled with the girl’s dark brown—and it felt wrong that it turned him on. Not because they were girls. Women. Because it was Jess. He had given up the right to see her that way a long time ago.

  As soon as he closed the door behind him, he knew she was awake. She still hadn’t moved when he came out of the bathroom. He felt vulnerable in boxers and a T-shirt but crawled back into bed anyway.

  She pulled his arm around her and clasped his hand against her chest. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

  “If you promise not to leave again tonight.” Jess’s voice, clogged with sleep, still managed to sound afraid.

  “Promise.” Garrett stayed awake for a long time, thinking. About the cop’s strange offer and about how he was taking advantage of his friendship with Jess, but mostly he thought about Chase. He missed Chase and wanted to at least talk to him, to apologize, but every time he started to send a text or even listen to one of the voicemails Chase left every few days, Garrett’s anxiety overwhelmed him. The obnoxious voice in his head told him not to listen to the voicemails because they were Chase telling him it was over and not to bother coming back.

  Never mind that Garrett knew, intellectually, that his anxiety lied. He just needed a little more time. Hopefully Chase would still be there waiting for him.