Page 9 of Until You Came Along
“You already mentioned that, and don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, embarrassed. “I said it because I couldn’t remember if I’d mentioned it before, and I thought it was something you should know because of the dress code and all those things women worry about.”
“I wasn’t offended by your comment, so don’t look at me like that.”
Baco smiled, and I noticed that what I said reassured him.
“I love where you put the painting,” he commented while looking at it.
I had hung it on one of the living room walls, and since it was large, it caught your attention as soon as you entered the apartment.
“I’m fascinated with that painting; it’s beautiful and it enhances and highlights my living room.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to stay for dinner? I made roast chicken with vegetables.”
“I can’t today because I’m meeting some friends, but it smells so good that my mouth is watering.”
“Let’s do this: you can take a portion with you and eat it whenever you want. I’ll prepare it for you,” I said as I got up and headed to the kitchen.
“Really?”
“Of course, that’s what friends do. I can’t leave you craving it. But I should warn you that I’m not a very good cook, I just get by.”
“I love being your friend, beautiful,” he stated.
“That sounds very self-serving.”
Baco let out a laugh and followed me. While I was preparing a plate with a large portion of chicken and vegetables, something occurred to me.
“Did you buy your mother a gift?” I asked.
“I never give her anything; I am the best gift of her life.”
“Can you ever be serious?”
“I was being serious,” he said, pretending to be offended.
“Have you ever given her one of your paintings? Why don’t you give her one?” I suggested.
“I don't think that would be a gift she'd appreciate,” he stated, his smile changing to a serious expression.
“I'm convinced there isn't a person on this planet who wouldn't like your paintings. They're wonderful. You should acknowledge that you're a great artist.”
“You're only saying that because you're my friend.”
“Not at all, I would never lie to you. Tell me something, has your mother ever seen them?”
“No.”
“Then take my advice and give her one. I don't know her, but I imagine that if a son gives you something so wonderful that he created with his own hands, it must evoke a very powerful emotion.”
“I don't know.”
“Do it, and if she doesn't value it, it's because she's insensitive and knows little about art and doesn't even deserve us going to her party.”
Baco remained serious and thoughtful.
