Page 78 of Something Like Forever
“I miss you,” he croakedwhen Tim was finished.
“I missyou too,” Tim replied. “Now make a wish.”
At the start of the day,he would have wished for Tim to come home as soon as possible, oreven right away. Having spoken with Marcello, he felt a lot betterabout the reason they couldn’t be together. He decided to give hiswish to the new gallery, hoping it would be even more successfulthan the one in Austin.
“I heardthat wish,” Tim said, leaning the phone against something andstanding up. Soon the camera was focused on the belt of his jeans,which was being undone. “Time for me to make it cometrue.”
“Stop!” Ben said, gigglingwhile looking around. Normally he wouldn’t allow himself to talk onthe phone while at a restaurant, but he had ample privacyhere.
Tim was only kidding,having already sat back down. “I wish I could be there. This iskilling me.”
“You’llbe here for the next one,” Ben said. “And the next. And thenext.”
“I likethe sound of that.” Tim sighed. “I thought about flying Jason downto be there, but—”
“They’re moving into thenew apartment,” Ben said. “I’m glad you didn’t. Besides, I don’twant Jason to feel like I’m not okay on my own.”
“Are you?”
Ben looked around again toconfirm his privacy. “No! Of course not. I need you.” He looked atthe screen more carefully. Tim appeared a little haggard, like hehadn’t been sleeping enough, but it couldn’t be too late or earlythere, because the room behind him was filled with sunlight. “Whatabout you? Are you okay?”
“Great!” Tim said. “Just alittle exhausted. I was up all night and didn’t sleep much the onebefore.”
“Why not?”
“Becauseof this.” Tim picked up the phone and stood, the picture unstableand bouncing before it focused on a white wall and a single pieceof art. This was the new gallery, but Ben didn’t recognize thepainting he saw. The subject was exceedingly familiar though, evenif he wasn’t used to seeing his own profile. He only hoped it wasthat flattering in real life!
The painting depicted himdressed in a traditional silk robe. A kimono? He wasn’t sure ifthat was the right word, but the crimson fabric spoke of passion,and this combined with the pink and white cherry blossoms in theupper left and bottom right corner made him think of Valentine’sDay. Or love. Both of Ben’s hands in the painting were occupied,one gripping a stand, the other a microphone, his lips close totouching the round tip. That made him think of something else. Hishair was wilder than normal, brown waves that wrapped around hisears and down his neck. His eyes were closed in concentration. Itall had a decidedly Eastern feel. Tim’s trademark prism highlightscame this time from the golden pattern painted into the robe, whichcaught the light and reflected it again in differentdirections.
“What doyou think?” Tim asked. “I know it’s weird to see yourself likethis. Kind of like when people hear a recording of their own voiceand don’t like it, so if you don’t—”
“I love it!” Ben said. “It’s gorgeous!Wait, I’m not saying thatI’mgorgeous, only that you did agood job considering how flawed the subject is.”
“You’re too beautiful toever capture on canvas, but this is close. You really likeit?”
“It’samazing how you’ve grown,” Ben said, shaking his head in disbelief.“I’ve always known you were talented, but you continue to surpriseme. Again, it feels a little weird to talk up a painting of myself,but I’m sure that people will love it even though they don’t knowwho I am. You could have put anyone else there and it would havebeen just as good.”
“I disagree,” Tim said,“but I’m glad you like it, because this is the featured piece of myexhibition.”
“The four million yenone?”
Tim narrowed silver eyes.“Did Marcello ruin the surprise?”
“No! Hejust told me the price of the most expensive painting withoutsaying what it was.”
“That’sa lot higher than I was expecting,” Tim said. “Size has a lot to dowith it. You need some sense of scale. Here.”
After some shufflingnoises, the phone was set down again. Tim moved to stand next tothe painting, the bottom of it near his knees, the top well abovehis head.
“Wow,” Ben breathed. “Howbig is that thing?”
“You’veforgotten already?” Tim said with a grin. Then he stretched an armabove himself, the tips of his fingers lining up with the top ofthe painting. “About seven feet.”
“Haveyou ever painted anything that large before?”
“Nope! That’s why I’vebarely slept in two days. It was way more work than I wasexpecting, and I needed to get it done before the grand openingtonight.” Tim returned to pick up the phone. “It’s my birthdaypresent to you. I wanted you here with me in Japan. Now youare.”
“You’reso sweet,” Ben said, “although I’m not sure I can afford the pricetag.”
