Memories of You

by Austin Bates

  “A friend of mine is an art dealer. He mostly handles private collections, but he’s opening up a gallery soon. He’s going to need some people to help staff it. The work’s not hard, you just have to learn about the pieces currently in the collection and help people find what they’re looking for. I could talk to him about it. I’m sure he’d be willing to at least give you an interview.” Knowing Allen he’d probably hire Hunter on the spot without asking even two questions. They’d been pretty fond of each other. In a lot of ways Allen was like an older brother, or maybe a somewhat young uncle, to the both of them. It helped a little that Allen had gotten extremely wealthy off of Luke’s paintings.

  “I don’t know.” Hunter sounded unsure of himself. “I mean, I’m more than willing to take the interview if you can get me one. I just don’t know if I’d be very good at interacting with other people like that. I’m okay one on one like this, but the other night I went to the music hall with a friend and the crowd was really overwhelming.”

  “Other than special openings and shows, there usually aren’t that many people in a gallery at one time. Really, with the prices of some of the paintings in there, you probably only have to sell one or two a week to keep the place running,” explained Luke.

  Hunter nodded slowly as if he was getting used to the idea.

  “I can call up Allen and see when he’s free,” suggested Luke, pulling out his cellphone.

  “You don’t have to bother him right this second,” said Hunter, looking over at the clock on the wall. “It’s kind of late, I wouldn’t want you to wake him up or anything.”

  “Allen is a night owl. I don’t think he’s ever gone to bed before 2 AM,” laughed Luke. “I think you’ll like him though. He’s a really great person to hang out with, and you need some more friends, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Hunter smiled slightly. “I thought you were trying to get me a job, not a friendship.”

  “With Allen it’s all the same thing.” Luke held up his phone again. “So, should I make the call?”

  “Yeah, go for it.”

  “YOU DON’T NEED TO WORRY so much,” said Luke as he and Hunter stepped onto the elevator the next morning.

  “It’s my first job interview,” retorted Hunter, fussing with the buttons on his blazer as Luke hit the button for the ground floor. “I didn’t know what to wear, I don’t know what to say, and I’m not even sure I’m the right person for this kind of job. What do I know about art anyway?”

  “Nothing, and that’s what makes you perfect for the job,” explained Luke as the doors slid closed.

  “I don’t understand,” admitted Hunter with a sigh.

  “Art students, art critics, and artists all make terrible art dealers. Why? Because they’ve all got their own opinions about art. Art dealers follow trends. They stock what’s selling. They know what people are buying, and they give them what they want.” The elevator reached the ground floor and they stepped out into the lobby.

  “There was a whole six month period where Allen was raking in six figures a month in sales even though the art critics were trashing his best selling artist,” continued Luke as they crossed the lobby towards the front doors. “You don’t have an art background. You don’t have any personal investment in a particular art style. That makes you perfect for this sort of thing.”

  Hunter frowned but didn’t say anything as they stepped out into the chilly winter morning air.

  The gallery was only a few blocks away on foot, but Luke quickly began to regret not taking his car as Hunter started to shiver beside him.

  “Dammit, I should’ve reminded you to grab your coat,” said Luke.

  “I’m fine,” insisted Hunter as a January breeze made his teeth chatter.

  “No, you’re freezing,” corrected Luke. “Here.” He shrugged off his coat and passed it to Hunter.

  “Now you’ll freeze,” retorted Hunter.

  “I’m wearing a sweater and a long sleeved shirt. You’ve got a blazer and a t-shirt. I’m pretty sure you’re the one that’s more likely to freeze,” countered Luke.

  Hunter looked like he was about to argue some more but instead shoved his arms into the sleeves of the jacket. It was a little big on him, but his shivering seemed to have been abated.

  “Better?” asked Luke.

  Hunter nodded. It was clear he resented being taken care of and Luke could only conclude that it probably had something to do with all the time he’d spent in the hospital and therapy. Breaking down those barriers would take some time.

  Hopefully, with Allen’s help, it wouldn’t take too long.

  When they finally reached the exterior of the gallery, Luke was surprised to see a flyer advertising the grand opening already hanging in the window. It was just like Allen not to waste any time. Getting the word out and generating buzz was something he was good at.

  Allen had been responsible for organizing nearly all of Luke’s art shows over the past several years, but this would be the first time he’d hosted a show in a gallery of his own. That’s why it was so important that everything be perfect.

  The interior of the gallery was warm, but the walls were still stark. They would remain bare until the morning of the show, when everything would finally be put in place and prepped for the crowd of eager viewers.

  “Allen?” called Luke as he and Hunter advanced into the spacious interior of the gallery. His voice echoed off the empty walls.

  “Coming!” Allen’s voice called from the back room. A moment later he bustled into sight, pushing a snack trolley in front of him. A plate of pastries sat on one end of the cart while a carafe of coffee and several cups sat at the other end.

  Allen looked up with a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Allen Geoffery. You must be Hunter.” He shook Hunter’s hand energetically. Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Allen look so excited.

  “Luke has told me hardly anything about you,” continued Allen without missing a beat. “But I’m sure we’ll make up for lost time. Don’t worry.”

  “Luke said you needed some help,” said Hunter, valiantly trying to steer the conversation towards the job interview he thought he was attending. Unfortunately for him, Allen had other ideas.

  “Yes, yes. The job. The thing is, I only hire people I consider friends, so if you’re interested in the job then we’re going to have to get to know one another a bit,” said Allen.

  “You might want to tone it down a little Allen,” said Luke with a chuckle. “You’re going to scare him off.”

  “N-no,” insisted Hunter.

  “I’m sorry,” apologized Allen. “The truth is, I have a lot of friends, but they’re all art people really. Which is fine because it means I never run out of things to sell. But it’s also frustrating because I don’t have anyone I can talk to about the business side of things. So if I got a little over excited, it’s just because I like the idea of having a partner-in-crime, so to speak.”

  Hunter visibly relaxed after Allen’s explanation.

  “So, I’ve brought out these pastries—which are some of my favorites—and this coffee, a specialty blend I love, to share with a new friend while we chat and get to know one another.” Allen spread his hands before him with a smile. “So, why don’t you pour us each a cup while Luke helps me bring some chairs from the back room?”

  “Alright,” Hunter said with more determination and excitement than Luke had expected. He immediately stepped towards the snack cart and began arranging the coffee cups.

  “Luke?” Allen gestured for him to follow as he moved towards the back room.

  Luke glanced sidelong at Hunter and silently prayed he wouldn’t spill the coffee or knock over the pastry tray. About eighty percent of Hunter’s cooking accidents were because of his clumsiness. He hoped that because they were outside of a kitchen he might have better luck.

  “I need to know,” began Allen once they were alone in the back storage room. “Have you told him anything yet?”

 
; “I would have told you if I had,” said Luke with a frown. He should have known that this was just a ploy by Allen to talk with him in secret. “Can we just get the chairs and get back out there?”

  “Forget about the chairs for a minute,” chastised Allen. “I’m more than willing to give him a job here. I’m more than willing to train him to do what I do. What I need to know, though, is what do you want?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Let me spell it out for you then. Am I playing your wingman or not?” Allen’s expression was perfectly innocent.

  “Allen, I didn’t bring him here to influence his opinion of me. I was able to win him over without your help before, and I can do it again. I brought him here because you two were friends before and he needed a job. That’s it.” Luke stepped past Allen to the stack of metal folding chairs that leaned against one of the back walls. He grabbed two of them and made his way back out of the storage room without another word.

  He wasn’t exactly mad at Allen for his suggestion. Part of him was actually a little upset he hadn’t taken him up on his offer. But none of his sacrifices up until now would mean anything if Hunter didn’t come to a decision on his own. For that reason alone, Luke refused to allow anyone to interfere in their relationship.

  When he returned to the snack cart, he was relieved to see Hunter had successfully poured all three cups of coffee and was mixing sugar into one of the cups.

  “You don’t have to look at me like that,” said Hunter, taking one of the chairs from Luke with a frown. “I can pour coffee at least.”

  “I was just admiring your stirring technique.” Luke chuckled to himself.

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “If you’re not careful, I might intentionally sabotage the next cake we make.”

  “I think the next cooking lesson is going to involve a little less baking. I think the oven is a little too stressful for you right now.”

  “I can handle the oven just fine,” retorted Hunter. “Maybe if my teacher didn’t keep distracting me with his little cooking flourishes. I mean, who honestly cracks eggs with one hand?”

  “People with big hands,” teased Luke, unfolding his chair.

  “If I had freakishly large hands like yours, I suppose I’d try to find a use for them too,” teased Hunter.

  “You know what they say about a man with large hands,” said Luke with a flirtatious edge to his voice.

  Hunter froze in the middle of unfolding his chair and for a moment Luke thought he’d misjudged the direction the conversation was heading.

  “No, actually, I don’t,” said Hunter, facing Luke and blinking blankly. “I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean.”

  “Oh, um...” Luke’s voice trailed off and his face flushed red. He’d gotten so caught up in the flirting that he hadn’t even realized the idiom would be lost on someone with amnesia.

  “I haven’t been this entertained in quite a while,” laughed Allen.

  Luke wasn’t sure how he’d managed it without anyone noticing, but somehow Allen had set up a chair and was sitting across from them sipping at a cup of coffee and enjoying the show. There was a broad smile on his face as both of them looked from him and then back at each other.

  “Well, go on and tell him what it means, Luke,” encouraged Allen. “Or perhaps I should do it?”

  Luke flushed even deeper red. He couldn’t seem to get the words out of his mouth. His lips had gone dry and his tongue felt swollen and clumsy. Apparently he was brazen enough for veiled flirtation, but overtly stating exactly what he’d meant was too much for him.

  “Very well then,” said Allen, looking over at Hunter. “It’s an idiom, Hunter. The implication behind it, however, is that men with large hands have large penises.”

  Now it was Hunter that turned red as he sank into his chair. His expression was otherwise unreadable though as he reached for his cup of coffee.

  “You both had such lovely banter going on,” sighed Allen. “Come on then. Don’t let the mood die. I gather from that little exchange Luke is teaching you how to cook, Hunter?”

  Hunter slowly nodded. “I’m kind of a disaster in the kitchen. I can’t remember how many times we tried to bake that cake last night.”

  “Three. Only one of them made it into the oven,” said Luke. He was grateful for Allen’s presence. If anyone knew how to resurrect a dead room, it was him.

  “Right,” continued Hunter. Slowly the conversation picked up and settled into an easy rhythm. Allen picked up the slack and directed them towards new topics whenever things started to slow down. For a brief moment that afternoon, it was just like it had been before.

  Chapter Seven

  “So what did you think?” asked Luke as he and Hunter stepped out of the gallery and into the chilly air of early evening.

  “Of Allen?” asked Hunter, glancing back through the glass doors of the gallery. “I liked him. You were right. He’s a nice person to spend time with.”

  “I thought you might,” said Luke as they started down the sidewalk back towards home.

  Hunter absently smiled to himself. He got the feeling Allen must have known him before the accident. It was something about the way he acted. But the art dealer’s mannerisms and style of talking were relaxed and easy. He never made Hunter feel as if he was trying to play catch up with events that had gone on before. Even when Hunter missed jokes or...idioms that were being used in playful banter.

  “Are you going to take him up on his offer?” asked Luke.

  “Probably,” said Hunter with a shrug. “If I’m going to work for him, then I should probably start learning the job as quickly as possible, right?” He absently dug into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He’d promised Vincent he’d text him as soon as the interview was over. Even though it had felt less like an interview and more like a coffee date with friends.

  There were more than a dozen texts and missed phone calls, all from Vincent.

  “Just checking in,” read one message.

  “At lunch, thinking about you.”

  “I hope you’re okay.”

  “Haven’t heard from you all day. Is everything alright?”

  The messages grew increasingly panicked as the day wore on, and Hunter felt a slight flare of annoyance. He growled to himself and started typing out a message.

  “Problems?” asked Luke, in response to Hunter’s furious typing.

  “Just...” Hunter sighed and switched off his phone without finishing the message. “Just my friend. I told him I’d text him after I was done with this interview, but he’s been messaging me all day.”

  Hunter looked over at Luke who seemed to be staring at a fixed point dead ahead of them. Almost like he was trying to avoid Hunter’s gaze.

  “He’s kind of been a bit clingy lately,” Hunter continued with a sigh. “I like spending time with him, but I honestly don’t know how to handle him sometimes.”

  “He’s probably just worried about you,” said Luke at last.

  “I know...” Hunter said, his voice trailed off however. All day long Luke had exuded this warm and inviting aura that put Hunter instantly at ease. In that moment, that aura turned cold and Hunter felt the chill of winter wrapping around him.

  “I know you barely know me...” said Luke as they reached the apartment building. He stopped short and turned to face Hunter. There were scarce inches between them and Hunter could feel the warmth of Luke’s breath against his lips. “...but if you ever need anything at all, I’m right next door. Don’t worry about bothering me. It’s not a bother. You’re my friend, and I want to help you if I can. Okay?”

  Hunter swallowed. He hadn’t realized how intense Luke’s eyes could be. His pulse quickened, and he felt short of breath. From this distance it felt as if he might lose himself in that endless gaze. What was this fluttery feeling in his stomach? “Y-yeah,” he managed at last, “I will.”

  “Good,” said Luke, turning away from him so suddenly that Hunte
r nearly lost his balance. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and retreated inside as Hunter stood unsteadily on the sidewalk.

  For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t been able to keep up with Luke’s sudden shift in mood. It felt like he was reacting to the messages from Vincent, but why would that have caused him to turn so icy all of a sudden.

  “Hunter!?” a voice shouted through the growing darkness. He turned and saw Vincent crossing the street towards him, his arms loaded down with bags from a dozen or more different restaurants.

  “Vincent? What are you doing here? I told you I’d text you when I got home,” he said as Vincent reached his side.

  “I’m sorry. I got worried.” Vincent looked completely miserable. His nose was tinged red from the cold, and he seemed to be struggling with the bags he was carrying.

  “Can I help you with those?” offered Hunter. The smell of food wafted towards him. Were those all bags from takeout places?

  “Just get the door for me, will you?”

  FINALLY UPSTAIRS IN Hunter’s apartment, Vincent began unloading his packages onto the kitchen counter.

  “What is all of this?” Hunter protested.

  There was Chinese, Thai, Italian, burgers, fried chicken, tacos, and about half a dozen other options to choose from.

  “I left the firm a couple hours ago, and I still hadn’t heard from you,” explained Vincent. “I knew you were excited about this interview, and I wanted to bring you something special for dinner. So I went and picked up Chinese. Then I called you again, but you still weren’t answering. Then I thought you might not like Chinese, so I went ahead and got Thai. I basically repeated that process over and over again. Then I ran out of places to go to. So I drove over and sat outside your apartment building until I saw you come home.”

  The smell of all the foods wafted towards Hunter in what should have been an enticing aroma, but it only served to make his stomach clench. He was definitely hungry, and the food looked appetizing, why then did he want to run for the bathroom?