Page 72 of Something Like Forever
“Definitely,” Corey said.“No need to thank me. The sense of satisfaction I feel right now isreward enough, although you could take me to dinnertonight.”
“I’vegot a better reward than that,” Tim said, grabbing the edge of thelargest table. “You want more muscle? Get on the other side of thissucker and lift!”
Corey groaned and draggedhis feet, but as they continued working, the grin stayed plasteredon his face. Tim found that his own had no intention of leavingeither.
* * * * *
“You’re a victim of yourown success,” Marcello said.
The flattery had no effecton Tim. He was too miserable. Another two weeks had gone by. Thanksto unexpected delays—paint running out, equipment not showing up, aholiday that no one had informed him about—they were behindschedule, and although the gallery was nearly done, he couldn’tcelebrate yet. “I’ll take a break and come back to Japan nextmonth,” he said.
“When the public eye hasmoved on?”
That was the other thingthat kept eating up his time. A few days ago, he had invited Miyûback to the studio so he could paint her. The gallery wasn’t quiteready, but it was still vastly better than before. They recorded avideo as she posed and he worked, and after this was posted online,everything went crazy. First websites and blogs wanted to interviewhim. Then newspapers and magazines. Yesterday he had been on afreaking television show, an early morning one, where theyinexplicably had him paint along with an old video of Bob Ross. Nowhe was getting offers to be on weird game shows, which he keptturning down.
“I don’t want this to beabout me,” Tim complained. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“No,”Marcello replied, “but the attention you are generating will helplaunch the gallery and cement its importance. Fundraising is nevereasy. I worked hard to cultivate the group of supporters you’vemingled with here, and believe me when I say that stunts wererequired, some public, others private.”
“I was supposed to flyhome tomorrow.”
“Isympathize,” Marcello said. “An extra week, that is all. Or perhapsslightly longer so the media can reach you in the aftermath. Tendays would allow time for the gallery opening, your exhibition, andthe fundraising gala.”
“Yeah,but—”
“I’ll bejoining you at the gala and will take over from there. Your toilsare nearly at an end. A few more sacrifices, and you’ll leave Japansecure in the knowledge that you’ve established a lasting legacynot only for yourself, but for Eric as well. A mere ten days ofyour time will benefit others for years to come.”
He couldn’t argue withthat. Logically, anyway. Emotionally was a differentmatter.
“If I stay here, I’ll missBen’s birthday.”
“Ah. Atthe risk of sounding callous, I dare say he’ll have plenty morebirthdays. An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime or notat all.”
He was right. Tim had noreason to believe that he could prolong his fifteen minutes offame. If he left and came back later, it might be too late. Hell,he might find it too hard to return, the pain of separation toofresh. “I’ll need to ask Ben.”
“Ofcourse,” Marcello said. “There are two minds in every marriage andthey must share each decision. That is how it should be. I only askthat you present him with all the facts.”
In other words, appeal tohis better nature. For once, Tim wished Ben’s resolve was as weakas his own.
* * * * *
“Are youhappy?”
Tim considered thequestion carefully. Currently he was sitting on a hibachi grill,one that was sparkling clean. They had kept three, two fordisplaying objects on—be it sculpture or otherwise. The countersand chairs that used to surround them had been removed. The thirdgrill still had its seats, since it would be used as a desk. Thatwas in a far corner. The grill where he and Corey sat now—shoulderto shoulder—was toward the end of the room. Ahead of them was hisfavorite space: three solid white walls lit to perfection fromabove. The rest of the gallery was nice too, although not astraditional. The fish tanks had turned out well, having beenrepurposed as display cases. Only one was still filled with water.It would be populated with robotic fish designed by a local artist,which would hopefully encourage word-of-mouthadvertising.
The wall he now faced washis favorite, and the ideal place for a featured piece of art. Hewould need something big to fill it for this exhibition—a challengebecause he normally stuck to a more manageable size ofcanvas.
“Still thinking about it?”Corey said, leaning against him briefly to get hisattention.
The physical contact feltgood. Tim missed it a little too much. He and Corey had startedhugging hello and goodbye, and sometimes they held on longer thanwas wise. “I’m happy,” Tim said, not sounding certain even to hisown ears. “Ben should be here though.”
Corey groaned. “I thinkI’ve heard you say that before. Today. Multiple times.”
Tim laughed. “I’m not justsaying it because I miss him. I’m about to hang my paintings onthese walls. That’s something I never would have done if not forhim. I used to hide my art from everyone. It was too personal, andI thought if people really knew how I felt, they wouldn’t love meanymore.”
“Are youtalking about coming out?”
“All ofit, man. I was a mess. Being gay was just one of the things I hid.No one really knew me back then.
