Page 132 of Something Tattered
"But why?"
"Like I told you, I'm the fifth one. By the timeIget to school, everyone knows exactly what I'll be."
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing but trouble. Every teacher. Every principal. Every adult I ever met. I could practically read their minds. 'Oh shit, another one.'" He gave a wry laugh. "Man, they hated me on sight."
"All of them?" I asked.
Joel gave a small smile. "All except one. There was this art teacher – Miss Robins. Anyway, we're doing this painting project in junior high, and she tells me I have real talent."
"You do." I leaned forward. "A lotof talent."
Joel glanced away. "I dunno."
I reached for his hand. "Well,Ido. Honest. I've never seen anything like it."
Joel gave me a dubious look. "Nice of you to say."
I shook my head. "I'm not 'saying' anything. I mean it. You know, there's this art foundation in my dad's name. Every year, we interview dozens of up-and-coming artists. I've never seen a single one with your talent."
I looked to the painting, lying there, face up on the floor. "Unless…"Damn it.I didn't want to say it.
"Unless what?"
I winced. "Unless you weren't being totally straight-forward about it."
At Joel's blank look, I said, "Don't get me wrong. It's absolutely beautiful, and I'll treasure it forever no matter what. But…" I felt my shoulders tense.How to say this?
"But what?" Joel asked.
I took a deep breath. "Don't take this the wrong way, but did you really paint that yourself? I mean, as an original?" In a rush to finish before he became angry, I added, "I know you were distracted when we talked about it, so I just wanted to double-check."
Joel squeezed my hand. "Baby, don't look so scared."
"I look scared?"
"Look," he said, "to answer your question, yes, I painted it. Not from another painting. And not from a picture. But I don't blame you for asking." He shrugged. "I mean, look at me. I'm no artist."
"But you are," I insisted.
"No. I'm not. Wanna know what I do? I don't create things. I destroy them."
"That's not true."
"Sorry, but you're wrong." He gave a slow shake of his head. "You wanna know something?"
"What?"
"You're the first nice girl I've ever been with."
The change of topic caught me off-guard. At the sweetness of the sentiment, I wanted to smile. But Joel wasn't smiling.
What was I missing? I asked, "Is that a bad thing?"
"For you?" He gave something like a laugh. "Probably."
"I'm serious," I said.
