Page 43 of Something Like Summer
Tim regarded him cautiouslywhile toweling his hair dry. “Do you want to see my paintings? Inmy studio.”
“Of course Ido!”
“Good. We can get somebreakfast afterwards.”
Ben expected the studio tobe somewhere in the house, but instead they drove to an office parkon the edge of the city. Tim unlocked a nondescript door in anequally dull building and disarmed an alarm system by punching acode into the keypad.
“This is one of my dad’soffices,” he explained as he ushered Ben inside.
“What does he do,exactly?” Ben asked as he peered into a shadowy sea ofcubicles.
“Provides medicalsupplies. It’s boring, but he makes a lot of money doing it. Overhere.”
At the end of a hall filledwith doors was one with its window obscured by paper. Tim usedanother key on this door and flipped on a light switch. The roomwas small but well lit, thanks to the large window occupying onewall. Ben could see the backs of two easels that faced the window.Before them was a small desk topped by large pieces of paperdrooping over the edges, each decorated with charcoal sketches. Helooked at Tim, tacitly seeking permission to proceed. Tim nodded,but stayed by the door.
Ben moved to the desk firstto examine the sketches. They all featured the exteriors ofbuildings. Some were more technical than others, but all of themexperimented playfully with shape and form.
“Sometimes I think aboutbecoming an architect,” Tim explained.
“They’re really good. Thisone is really great!” Ben held up what looked like a skyscraperthat gradually widened the further up it went.
“That’s supposed to be awater tower.” Tim frowned to show his dissatisfaction. “I don’tknow.”
“You should be proud!” Bensaid as he set it down and moved to the easels.
Work had only began on onecanvas, and the style was much different than Ben’s birthdaypresent or the art in Tim’s room. This painting was realisticrather than abstract, and portrayed a man covering his face withboth hands.
“Self portrait.” Timchuckled nervously. “I’ve been working on that one forever. Handsare really hard to do.”
“I bet. Why your hands andnot your face?”
“Don’t read into it. It’sjust a part of me I can easily see. Maybe I should get a big mirrorin here or something.”
“Or maybe I could modelfor you,” Ben joked.
“Why not? That would becool! Of course I would insist on painting you nude.”
“In that case you shouldprobably opt for the mirror.” Ben smiled. “It’s cool that your dadlets you use this space.”
“Mom insisted. Some of mypaintings get pretty messy. C’mon. Let’s get out ofhere.”
Once he was away from thestudio, Tim felt free to talk more openly about his art, his handclasped tightly to Ben’s the entire way home. Ben felt he had beenthrough a rite of passage, allowed to see a side of Tim that waseven more intimate than sex, no small feat considering what theyhad done yesterday.
The revelation came then,in a quiet moment when Tim was parking the car, one that shouldhave been accompanied by the swelling of music. His love for Timwas real. Ben had lusted after his body, yearned to belong to him,and later simply enjoyed whiling away the hours with him, but allthat had evolved into something much more meaningful. He wished thecurrent situation was appropriately romantic so he could say thosewords to Tim, but it wasn’t. He would wait until the right time.Until then, Ben would resign himself to expressing his love in away that didn’t involve words.
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Chapter 13
With the coming of a newyear, Ben felt himself reinvented. He enjoyed more freedom thanever, was in an increasingly serious relationship, and had evenfound employment. Ben had taken a part-time job at Zounders, alocal supermarket, handling menial tasks such as bagging groceriesor stocking the shelves. This earned him enough pocket money thathe no longer had to beg his parents, even though they now gave himmoney twice as often in appreciation of his efforts. All in all, hefelt very much like an adult.
Even the world seemed lesslonely for an out-of-the-closet teenager. Evan, one of Ben’scoworkers, was a year older than he was and went to school in theneighboring city of Conroe. Evan was like a long-lost brother. Theyeven looked alike, both being thin and blond, but Evan had a wickedsense of humor that was all his own. He was still in the closet butwasted no time in coming out to Ben when he found out abouthim.
Evan’s experiences at hisschool were even more limited than Ben’s. He’d only had one sexualencounter after loitering outside a gay bar one night, but hadn’tenjoyed the experience and hoped to find something more meaningful.He was cute and transparently interested in Ben, but he couldn’thold a candle to Tim. Ben made it known that he was dating someone,but kept the details a secret, an attitude closeted Evan couldunderstand.
Ben’s adult life revertedunwillingly to childhood for the five periods he suffered at schooleveryday. He still skipped first period, but he did so now withfull confidence. His report card from the previous semester had thestandard “C” that he always received in P.E., and showed noindication that he hadn’t been present for months. His name wassimply one among the many that the coaches ignored in favor of moretalented athletes and would likely remain so.
Spanish class was also outof the picture. With his minimal language requirements met, Ben wasfree to choose another elective. He chose journalism, in the hopesthat it would fuel his occasional interest in writing. At the leastit was guaranteed to be more enjoyable than struggling with alanguage he was unlikely to ever use effectively.
