by Amy Lane
He had two commissions: he needed to make good.
The first one was easy. Ravi and Anish were bright, smiling, ink-and-paper worthy, with only a hint of caricature in their presentation of bags of candy. He thought maybe that would be the sort of picture a good grandmother would want. Not that he had any experience with that.
He’s a bad boy, just like his mother. Rico comes out and says please and thank you. This one hides because he’s afraid.
And thus, eight years in the Army to prove that he was not. God. Grandmothers. So Adam hoped that the picture was good for them. He even added a hint of color in the faces and the brightly colored background of the store, and then cut it carefully off of the art book with an X-Acto knife. Rico had left a box of cereal in the cabinet, so Adam pulled the bag out of the box and folded the cardboard over the picture to keep it safe.
And then he went to work on Finn’s.
The first one, or, well, four, he couldn’t use. He couldn’t bring himself to tear them up either, but he couldn’t use them.
They were too….
Personal.
One featured Finn in the hat, as he appeared sitting next to Adam in the darkened loft, knees drawn to his chest. The other was the Finn he remembered backed up against the pallet in the stock room, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, like he was anticipating a kiss. The third was Finn fist-pumping the air when Adam agreed to come eat, and the last one was Finn, eyes bright over his hamburger, spinning bridges out of air and a future out of a solid faith there was a future to be had.
All of them lingered on things—the crinkles at the corners of his eyes; the fullness of his lips, even when his mouth was wide and smiling; the little bump in the bridge of his nose; or the slight dent that interrupted the even bevel on the bottom of his chin. Things. Inappropriate things.
Finally, as the eleven o’clock news came on and Adam fought not to tear his military-cut hair out by the roots, he ground his teeth and knuckled down and drew what he’d intended to in the first place: Finn looking up from the cutting machine to grin at the Jake cartoon character across the store. It took a while—the store was a place of multi-perspectives and a lot of little details that Adam lavished his time on, since Finn was small enough that he couldn’t spend his time on Finn, and when he looked up, it was twelve o’clock, and he was done, and tired….
And he’d forgotten to medicate the fucking cat.
Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit….
“Gonzo…. Gonzo… here, kitty, kitty. Where you hiding from me now, you homicidal little fucker? Gonzo….” Oh God. Under the bed, on top of the closet, behind the toilet—oh, hey, hello, in the bathtub, lying still, panting, and not looking good at all.
Adam barely had to hold Gonzo down to give him the medicine, and he started to panic. Oh hell. He imagined the text. Rico, your cat isn’t looking too good. In fact, I think he died in the bathtub. Please don’t hate me, I promise to do better with the dog.
He left the cat in the tub with its water bowl and a bowl of soft food, mushed carefully, and went to bed, hoping for the best.
Rico, I’m sorry, man, I’d take the cat to the vet, but I got no money, and you didn’t leave me your vet’s name, and….
Okay, erase that text.
Rico, who’s your vet? The cat isn’t looking fantastic, and I’d like to take him in if he gets any worse.
Okay. Better. Not alarming, but concerned. And not a word about the money, so Adam could write a hot check for the rat bastard cat if he had to, and Rico wouldn’t know that his stupid fucking cat was going to break him. Good. That would work. He could live with that.
Or at least go to sleep with that. It could work.
It was all he had.
Sunset by the River
ADAM WOKE up in the morning with the cat sleeping by his head. When he stumbled into the bathroom to take a leak, there was a big pile of cat crap in the bottom of the tub. Not the most pleasant way to spend five minutes before his shower, but it wasn’t on the rug, and it wasn’t a cat corpse, so Adam was calling it a win.
He made that a conscious choice for the rest of the day too. Joni ran coupon duty until the deli was open, so he had no accidental-on-purpose run-ins with Finn, and if Adam avoided the deli while he was doing his own duty during lunch rush, well, that was probably an accident.
Probably.
His lunch half hour rolled around and he gave Anish the carefully cardboarded picture to run to Finn when he got Ravi’s lunch. For himself, Adam asked Darrin if he could go out in the back courtyard to eat.
Darrin found him there, shivering, five minutes later, as he swallowed the last of the PB&J and washed it down with more tap water.
“He’s here, Adam, and he brought you fries, so you may want to quit being a chickenshit about it and go say hi.”
Adam tried to smile at him, which should have been easy since he was dressed in a brightly colored shawl-collared Christmas cardigan, with evergreen reindeer running across the horizontal stripe in the middle, but he was pretty sure what came out wasn’t happy. “Oh. Uhm. I, uhm, didn’t think….”
“Didn’t think he’d want your company again after stalking you two days running?”
“He’s not stalking!” Adam defended. “He’s just being nice to the new guy.”
Darrin narrowed his eyes. “Okay, so, new guy, go out and be nice to your new friend.”
If this is what having a real parent was like, Adam could see why Rico moved out of the house as soon as possible. “Darrin, he’s getting a crush on me!” he said after a moment, sounding petulant, even to himself.
“Yes, Adam, and I think the feeling’s mutual. Now go out there and face that little boy like a man.” Darrin plucked his brows with an unmistakable arch, and his very skepticism cowed Adam even more.
“I’m gonna break his heart,” Adam muttered. “He’s barely old enough to be allowed out of the house.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Army. Now go spend your lunch break with somebody who wants to know you better.”
“Oh Jesus,” Adam muttered. “I’m an employee! You’ve known me three days.”
Darrin nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. And look at me, falling into the hole in your life where you needed a Darrin. I’m awesome!” He spun his hands at the wrists, ending up with a vogue in which he framed his face with elegant fingers. “Now go let Finn fall into the Finn-sized hole in your life. You’ll almost be hole-less.”
Adam glared at him impotently, because there was no comeback to that. Hell, there wasn’t even a language for that. “Are you sure you weren’t waiting for someone else to come be your winter help?”
Darrin laughed throatily, closing his eyes and tilting his head back so his hair fell behind him. “Oh, Adam. You think you’re only staying for the winter? That’s adorable. Now scoot!”
Adam cast a hunted look over his shoulder, unable to say why Darrin’s sweet smile should be so terrifying. Then he went to face the music.
Finn was waiting out in front of the store, arms crossed, a takeout bag dangling from his hand.
“Uhm, hey, Finn. I, uhm, didn’t you like the picture?”
“The picture was fine, you coward. A little impersonal, but fine. Do you not do close-ups?”
At that moment Anish walked in from coupon duty. “Oh no! He does wonderful close-ups! You should see the one he did for our grandmother. I cannot wait to put it in a frame. She’ll think we actually thought about her present for once!”
Finn glared at him, and Adam wished he’d stopped to put his coat on.
“None of your close-ups came out,” he mumbled. “I can try again tonight.”
“Have you eaten?” Finn demanded.
Adam thrust his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t take the fries. “Uhm, you know. The usual.”
“I was there when you bought the groceries. Now here, take the fries and walk with me, okay?”
Adam didn’t know how to fight that. Not without being rude, and
Finn didn’t deserve that. He squared his shoulders and enjoyed the warmth of the fries through the takeout container, and hoped his hooded sweatshirt would do him in the chill off the river.
Which was exactly where Finn was taking him. Across the cobblestone street, past the restrooms, and over the landmark bridge. The wind coming off the river cut through the bone in the winter afternoon, and Adam shivered, but he kept following Finn over the bridge. Riverfront Park was essentially a nice little walking path in a corner of green overlooking the river. Finn headed toward the wrought iron fence that bordered the drop-off, and Adam kept up, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
Finn heard him, though, and made a sound of exasperation. “I would have waited while you went and got your coat!” As he spoke, he busied himself with the button at the chin strap of his fleece hat, and before Adam could protest, the hat was over his ears, warm and cozy and smelling of Finn.
“Thanks.”
“Oh my God, was that so hard to say?” Finn demanded, unwrapping his Doctor Who scarf from around his neck and winding it laboriously around Adam’s when he was done.
“You didn’t have to,” Adam said, his voice dropping miserably.
Finn’s angry motions stopped, and the air around them stilled. Behind Finn, the sun was setting over the river, and Adam could either squint into it or peer into the quiet shadows of Finn’s face. He chose Finn, and they stared at each other for a heartbeat while Adam tried not to notice the quivering of Finn’s lower lip.
“I just want to get to know you. Is that so bad?” Finn asked, his voice a raspy whisper, not quite too quiet to be heard amid the traffic over the bridge and the day-to-day sounds on the boardwalk.
“I’m not really used to….” Anything.
“I know, Adam. I get it. I mean, two minutes with you and I got it. You… whatever is going on in here”—Finn waved his hand in the direction of Adam’s chest—“it’s dark and sort of sad and hard for you to get over.”
“I’m not some charity case,” Adam muttered, hating the gentleness, hating the compassion.
“I’m not giving charity,” Finn snapped, shaking his head.
“Well I don’t see what you get out of it!” And that, that right there, was Adam’s entire problem with the past three days. A job out of nowhere, a friend—a sweet, sexy one at that—literally landing in his lap and delivering him hamburgers. What did these people get out of it? What was there to be gained by giving Adam Macias a break? It certainly hadn’t benefitted anybody before, had it? He and Rico had history—a long one—of Rico helping Adam behind everybody’s back and Adam being exhaustingly grateful.
The only history Adam had with Candy Heaven and Finn was walking through the front door.
“Maybe you just seem like a decent guy,” Finn said with dignity. “Can’t you just deal with that?”
Adam grunted and turned toward the river. Without talking, the two of them resumed their walk, and Adam delved into the fries before they could get cold.
“So,” Finn said as they approached the fence near the bottom of the walk, “what was your morning like?”
Adam shrugged. “My cousin’s cat is still alive—that’s something.” And with that he related the misadventures of Gonzo, the ancient tiger-striped cat, and how apparently the medicine regulated Gonzo’s blood sugar and absolutely needed to be given every night and every morning.
“Oh no!” Finn gasped, clearly taken with poor man-eating Gonzo’s fate. “What did your cousin say when you texted him?”
Oh Lord. Adam didn’t even have to consult his phone to remember the text verbatim. Please don’t freak out. The cat was a rescue and old when I got him five years ago. If it’s his time, it’s his time. Not your fault.
“He said the cat was old and to just keep doing my best. But you know? Rico’s my only family. It’s not like I want him to come back in June and have no cat, right? It would be a shitty way to pay him back when he’s done me a solid by letting me stay at his place.”
“Well, yeah. But he doesn’t expect the impossible from you, Adam. Maybe just give yourself a break about it, okay?”
Adam shook his head. “I mean, unless I can get back in school, I don’t know what else I got, right? It’s like this stupid cat and the big-assed dog are my last chance to prove I’m useful as a human being!”
Finn stared at him in horror. “Jesus, Adam, how old are you? Thirty?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“That’s even worse! You’re barely older than me—you can’t possibly hinge your whole existence on the life or death of an aging cat. C’mon, find something else! I mean, so Rico’s your only decent family. You can draw, and it’s great. You’re pretty smart, because you walked into a job knowing nothing and made yourself useful pretty fast, and you have a sense of humor, because you were going to say you were abducted by aliens instead of beat up by a cat—”
“Only to make you happy,” Adam admitted, feeling bad.
“But that’s awesome!” Finn said, practically dancing. “That means you want to impress me!”
Adam stopped, folding up the empty fry container and shoving it into the bag almost automatically. “You know, we should probably get back to the shop. I think my break is almost over.”
“You do, don’t you?” Finn asked after they’d turned around and started walking back.
“Do what?” Adam responded, but he knew.
“Want to impress me?”
Adam swallowed, thought about how the kid had just showed up and insisted Adam pony up. He owed Finn. “An embarrassing amount,” he admitted.
Finn pumped his fist. “Woot!” And Adam’s mind took a picture of that moment right there. He was so happy. Adam wanted to freeze time. He started planning the drawing as he dropped the trash in the bin and let Finn lead the way back to work.
He didn’t realize until he got inside that Finn hadn’t taken his silly fleece hat back, or his hand-knitted Doctor Who scarf. Adam wore them on the jog home and on his walk out with Clopper. The whole time he had that kid’s smell, that happy, sandwich smell, keeping him warm.
THE NEXT day he brought Finn the picture—and his hat and scarf back—but even he could see that the deli was busy when he stopped by. Ravi and Anish had given him twenty-five dollars for his drawing, and he made it up to the counter to order a turkey sandwich (because the garlic fries were giving him gas), but as soon as Finn saw him, traffic stopped.
“You came? You came, and we’re busy? Oh my God! That sucks! But you came!”
Adam glanced around him, wondering if he was going to get grief because he was apparently blocking the entire line.
“Well, uhm, yeah. I owed you a picture. And you need your hat. And your scarf.”
“And you need…,” Finn led and Adam blushed.
“A turkey sandwich. Just chips this time.”
Finn nodded soberly. “The garlic makes you fart, doesn’t it? Yeah, me too, but they’re nice to have some of the time. Okay, with coffee and the discount that’ll be $5.45.”
Adam opened his mouth to protest the discount, because Finn knew damned well that was about half what his order should cost, but arguing about it would just make Finn look bad in front of the crowd.
And judging by the way Finn was grinning at him while he called the order to the woman behind him, he knew it too.
Adam gave him the money, scowling, and the woman—who had hair very much the color of Finn’s, and big blue eyes framed with strawberry blonde lashes as well—gave Finn a droll look as she took the tag from him.
“Now go sit down and wait. I’ll have time to bring it out in a minute,” Finn said, handing back the change.
Adam growled and shook his head, and then took the last seat and sat down. While he was waiting, he pulled out his sketchbook and started working. Some of those more personal pictures of Finn needed fleshing out, but he figured that wasn’t safe to work on here—not when Finn could see him. Instead he pulled up a newer page, one he’d sketched t
he night before and inked in, featuring Darrin’s store in bold lines and bright primary and secondary colors. Working at every juncture in the store was a chibi version of one of the employees—a short, squat Anish, a less short and squat Ravi, a Carolyn with bejeweled glasses, a Joni with spiky hair and lots of piercings, and so on. All of the employees he’d met so far—the boy with the nose ring, the girl who liked pigtails and striped socks—all of them were there in their squat little cartoon versions, and Adam thought it was a good piece. Maybe he’d give it to Darrin for Christmas, and to say thank you for the job. He was looking forward to that. Ravi had taken the first one he’d drawn and pinned it up behind the register. This one was better, and Adam hated indebtedness.
“Ooh,” Finn said behind him. “Nice. That’ll look good in the store.”
Carefully he set down Adam’s order, plus a hot chocolate, and Adam looked up at him, knowing his smile was a little shy and unable to help it. “Sort of a thank-you to Darrin, you know?”
“That’s a good idea. Here, let me see!”
And before Adam could protest, Finn had taken the sketchbook from his hand.
“Uhm, yanno, that’s sort of like a diary, really, and—”
Oh no. Finn hadn’t looked directly behind his own pictures. No, even worse, he’d gone to the beginning of the sketchbook, where Adam was still working out things from Baghdad, and the things he’d drawn….
Finn’s bright, shining face sobered, went dark, as he looked at a picture of bodies in the desert, bones protruding, a child’s hand flopped backward in a parody of elegance, rags of clothing fluttering about the corpses like moths.
“Oh, Adam. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s, uhm, you know. Sort of private,” Adam said, more clearly this time. “I don’t want you to see—I mean some of that stuff is pretty ugly.” He went to take it from Finn, but to his surprise, Finn didn’t let go.
“That’s fine,” Finn said, trying to make eye contact while Adam was bent on looking at the plant in the corner by the trash can. Finn’s hand on his shoulder, warm and a little moist from just being washed, finally made him look up. “No, Adam—it’s fine that this is a diary. I’m sorry I intruded. But don’t think you have to protect me from this, okay? I’m not really Finn from the cartoon, you know? I’m a grown-up. If you served active duty, I know you had to see some awful stuff. Don’t hide it from me because you think I can’t take it.”
