Page 61 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

This place looks and smells and feels different from the only place I’ve ever known, but this is home.

Apparently, it’s so common for artists to be reclusive or eccentric that the gallery’s three owners, Max, Emily, and Troy, didn't bat an eye when we told them we wouldn’t be attending the opening of Jayce’s first solo exhibition.

Max, however, was insistent that we do something to mark the occasion, and after a relatively long debate, we landed on having the owners and their families over to our place for a mid-summer barbecue. I've met each of them and their partners a handful of times, and they’ve all been kind and understanding of the fact that I seem quite antisocial. They’ve always respected my need for space while still actively trying to make me feel included, and I’ve never felt any frustration or anger toward me or Jayce from any of them.

By having an outdoor barbecue at our home, we figured I’d be able to keep my distance or seek refuge inside our house for a while if I needed to. I haven’t needed to. I've been outside for nearly two hours laughing and enjoying the company of nine people, and not once has one of their emotions strayed to something negative enough that I've had to step back. Emily’s five-year-old is a tad challenging. I’ve never spent time around children, and his rapidly shifting emotions have come as a surprise, but it’s not something I can’t handle. Having Jayce nearby always helps. His emotions sink into my soul in such a way that they become my whole world. I still feel the emotions of those around us, but the overwhelming love that envelops me when he’s by my side helps temper them.

The people who currently occupy our large grassy yard have spent the sunny afternoon enjoying good food and good company in celebration of Jayce’s work.

Fifteen sculptures currently stand tall in the downtown gallery. The building’s other two floors have been temporarily closed, and Jayce’s work is the only thing on display. Each of them towers at least ten feet, with the largest nearing seventeen. Jayce has thrown himself into his art, and our new life has inspired him. I’ve taken some part-time, remote accounting work for a few of the small shops in nearby towns, but I spend much of my time laughing at Jayce’s side or quietly reading in the corner of the old barn studio while he works.

Sky of Soulshas already garnered critical acclaim, and the exhibition’s opening night sold out in under a week. The gallery doesn’t expect even the largest of pieces to remain unsold for more than a few days.

I don't know if the burgundy room in Ken’s old funeral home had actually absorbed the intense emotions I always seemed to feel there. I still don't know if that's really possible. What I do know is that the steel that comprises Jayce’s work has done just that.

Each of the sculptures triggers the same emotional reaction from everyone who sees them.

They are passion and need and gratitude and love.

They are US.

They are Jayce and me, public and proud and unashamed. Standing strong and tall for the world to see.

Jayce startles me from my revelry as he slips a strong arm around my waist.

“Do you think he knows?” The flood of emotion that runs through him contains traces of the grief he wore when we first met, but the emotion is small and soft and tempered by more love and happiness than it should be possible for one person to feel.

I don’t have to ask what he means, and I can’t help the grateful sigh that slips from my lips as I lay my head onto his shoulder. “He knows.”

His lips brush my hair. “I think he’d be happy for us, with what we’ve done with the money, with the life we’ve built.”

“I think so too, my love.”

As we laugh and shift to the left to dodge the beanbag that has escaped Ken’s grasp on yet another of his horrific throws toward the cornhole board, Jayce’s grief fades. Those lost to us, Jordyn, Katherine, Jayce’s parents, they’re always here, but we choose to honor them with laughter and memories and stories about the way they were loved. While grief will always be a part of our lives, it’s become a part we’re thankful for as, in some inexplicable way, it brought us to one another.

Jayce

One soul that speaks to another can come in any shape or size or form. They can be a sibling, a friend, a lover, even a pet. When you find a soul that fits yours, it doesn’t matter who they are or even what they are.

They can show up when you least expect it, even when you’ve given up hope.

They share our love and our pain. They carry our secrets and protect our dreams. They become such an integral part of ourselves that we aren’t complete without them.

My brother was my first soulmate. My first friend, my first confidant, my first partner in crime, my first love.

I have a different kind of love now. The kind I never dreamed I’d ever get the chance to experience.

If you find a soul that speaks to yours, hold it close. Cherish it. Notice all of the little moments that normally get overlooked in the day-to-day experience of living. Embrace all of the earth-shattering events and grand gestures.

Offer that soul your whole heart, and you might just be lucky enough to receive theirs in return.

To be continued

Namid

The wave of grief that threatens to overwhelm me is more intense than anything I’ve felt from Jayce in more than a year, and it’s hard to believe that he actually made it through Jordyn’s loss, feeling like this every day.

As his grief slowly fades, I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to the tan stretch of skin that peeks out under Jayce’s shirt as he finishes lifting the storage unit’s roll-up garage door. I’ll never get enough of him.

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