Page 46 of Mine to Keep
The smile that stretches Talon’s face is beautiful and free of any hurt or pain. “I’m perfect. I loved Cole, but he didn’t love me. I see that now. In the past few days, I’ve felt more love from you two than I have in the past few months with him. I thought it was because it was long distance, but I don’t think that was it. He was pulling away and not telling me. So yeah, I’m okay.”
We take the train to one of the many museums in Toronto and make our way inside. I don’t care about art or shit from the past—the past is better left there—but my boys want to see everything, so I grin and bear it for them.
The museum we entered is three stories and has about seventy rooms of shit to look at.
We walk past painting after painting, excitement and happiness dancing across Talon’s face, and introspection across Javier’s.
Before I can wonder what it means, Talon bumps his best friend with his hip. “Can you paint that? Your style is different, but…”
Javier looks longingly at the artwork on the wall, tracing the lines and the colors with a practiced eye. “Probably not.”
“You paint?” I ask, impressed. Javier strikes me as the type of man that works with his hands—even though he told mehis family is wealthy—not the creative type. I shouldn’t judge someone because of their appearances, though.
He smiles. “Sometimes. When I want to get out of my head or I want some quiet. Nothing major.”
“Can I see?”
“Yeah, sure.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, showing me a few pictures of paint-drenched canvases with an almost abstract design. I’m not well-versed on art and what’s good or not, but I can tell from this picture that Javier poured everything into his work. I can almost feel his soul coming off the canvas.
I flick through the album he showed me, bright colors assailing me, the fine lines and curves of the painting stirring something in my chest. It’s like I can see Javier sitting in front of a canvas, no shirt, paint dotting his face, arms, and chest. Sitting with him, chattering nonstop, is Talon, the sunlight shining on them as I watch them from across the room.
I…I want that. I told them that I was their ‘something more’ and I can see it, like a movie playing. My life,ourlives.
Fuck, I’m losing my fucking mind.
Clearing my throat—after I shake my head to clear the thoughts running through my mind—I hand his phone back. “They’re great.”
Javier’s smile is radiant. “Thanks. Sometimes, stuff pops in my head and I have to paint it. These are the ones Talon convinced me to take pictures of before I gave them away.”
“He could totally make money selling them,” Talon says. “Get, like, a studio and shit. Those rich fuckers would pay good money to have this in their homes.” He bumps Javier again. “You could donate the money to the group homes you sponsor.”
Javier shrugs, though a smile is pasted to his face. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” He glances over at me. “What do you think?”
I shrug, pausing as a few people slide around us to get to the next exhibit. “I don’t know much about art, but your stuff is really good. You’re talented. I think Talon is right.”
His smile widens as he says, “When we get back home, I’ll talk to my dad. He can get me in touch with someone that can help. He runs in those ritzy circles.”
Turning a corner, we enter a room that has statues, some in unusual poses, others looking like they were living people that were petrified into stone. One in particular reminds me of Patience, so I guide Talon and Javier away from it, tamping my sadness down by sheer force of will.
“Sculpting would be fun, yeah?” Talon asks, looking at the statues. “Messy though. And I don’t have that attention to detail. I’d probably fuck up the nose, get upset, and not want to finish. Never mind. Not so fun anymore.”
I throw my head back and laugh at how quickly he talked himself out of sculpting. It’s almost like?—
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I turn my head to the left almost imperceptibly. Again, that shock of red hair greets me. Heart thudding, I step around the statue as if I’m studying it, but I’m trying to get around the woman so I can see if?—
A tall Black man walks up to the woman, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her around. The woman laughs loudly and her face comes into view.
It’s not her. It’s not the woman I saw in the pub and on the street.
My heart rate doesn’t slow down. It thuds in my chest like a drum, marking time to my unease. I’ve never been this on edge. Then again, I’ve never had the feeling that something…bigwas going to happen. I’m not sure what, but my intuition hasn’t failed me yet, so I’m going to trust it.
For now, I’ll push it out of my mind and enjoy our time together, until I hear back from Peggy.
We continue to walk around the museum for another hour before my boys start complaining about hunger. There are a few restaurants within walking distance, and I let them to pick. I don’t have preferences for food, so I’m down for whatever they want to eat.
Once we’re inside the restaurant, we’re seated in a corner booth near an emergency exit. I sit near the door, facing the front entrance. If someone walks in with some bullshit, I’ll see them and get my boys out of here.
I check my phone for a message from Peggy. I’m surprised I have one, since I didn’t feel my phone vibrate.
