Toph's Empty Year - 17. Late April

Deep turquoise. An interesting attribute when it bespeaks of the eyes. One would usually describe them as blue. At any reasonable distance they do appear to be blue. However, the color of a person’s eyes is never a plain monotone. Light reflections, ambient hues, or even one’s mood can infuse subtle complexities to even the simplest of their tones.

Deep turquoise adds the alternative color, green, to this variegated amalgam of tint and personality. Over our two-week vacation, I was afforded the opportunity to study my Gary’s eyes in different surroundings and under contrasting temperaments. It would be presumptuous to say I could determine his mood merely by noting their shade, but I was beginning to read him much better using this very indicator.

Anders drove us home from the airport on the late Wednesday afternoon we arrived. We were greeted by one of Joanne’s lovely meals and by Naomi’s comforting presence. Neither of us revealed the details of our vacation, beyond Gary saying it was relaxing. I mentioned so reinvigorating was it, that I would open the shop the next morning and told Naomi to take the entire day for herself. I had a large debt of gratitude to repay.

After dinner, surrounded by our friends in the living room, we were able to come down from our vacation highs and up from the post-vacation lows. It was our reentry into normality. When everyone had left, we each began our unpacking. I drifted over to Gary’s room to ask if he wanted me to add his laundry to mine, since I would be visiting the basement machines early the next morning. Gary couldn’t escape from the habit of having his clothes cleaned professionally, and had already made arrangements for the delivery person to pick his up the next day. I chuckled to myself that I’d know we had become boyfriends when this little wall of his crumbled too. Finally, crawling into bed, my mind tried to recapture the warm feelings of our last two weeks. But I got up.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I’m having trouble being comfortable in bed without your arms around me.”

He smiled, stepping back to let me in. All my colors aligned within his warm embrace. He whispered into my ear.

“I was, too.”

I did wake up early. Those before-sunrise mornings in Texas must have reset my internal clock. I was pleased though, because it allowed me to finish my laundry before heading out to open Naomi’s store.

My rest and refocusing from our vacation created an eagerness to continue sketching and painting. But unlike the frazzle I had worked myself into before Texas, I now had a clear set of goals which were all easily achievable. I was determined to take breaks of my own volition, rather than always relying on Gary to sense when I needed them.

I was the one who insisted on resuming the gym and tennis regimen, to help keep me on an even keel. I was the one who made reservations and took us out for dinner Saturday night. It wasn’t to a fancy place, just a German restaurant Betty had recommended when I asked her during lunch that day. It turned out Betty had chosen a wonderful little local tavern for us. I could tell Gary was pleased by a slight shift in his eye color. We shared an appetizer of potato pancakes. Gary ordered their Sauerbraten and I was about to order Jägerschnitzel, but when my eyes saw fresh, homemade Bratwurst on the bottom of the menu, it was all over for me. The Bratwurst came with hot German potato salad too. I was in heaven. Neither of us had the self-control to leave room for dessert, and so we saved the Black Forest cake for our next visit.

I was so content by Sunday that those sketches, which had been bedeviling me before Texas, easily came to life on canvass. In the breaks, I was able to secretly sneak in a few sketches of Gary. I had this little gremlin in my head who wanted me to make a new portrait of Gary. I had barely known him when I made the previous one, the one he has in his office. This time I was toying with something dramatically different. I only had a few flashes of ideas, so it wasn’t completely formulated yet. Because of that, I wanted several sketches of him in many different moods. I was certain my ideas would all come together in the end.

The following week saw a return to my normal schedule, but without the stress. I was able to finish Abigail’s list for locations around town. I was even able to begin creating a few of those in oil. I could see that my New Glory series of paintings would be finished by the end of the month, and so started thinking of additional ideas for the Abington portfolio.

Also, during the week, Charles’ friendly texts continued every third or fourth day. I began to realize I had missed out on discovering this older brother when I was in Euphoria. I even started to wonder how much the perceived hostility of the bad actors had poisoned my mind against some very nice people. It was a thought worth considering. Perhaps, in my young teens, I had no capacity for admiring the pretty flowers blooming in the vipers’ nest.

That Saturday was the twentieth. While I was in town, finishing up my sketches after lunch, I found myself near Oscar’s house. I had missed the Talon meeting this month because of the trip, and I missed Oscar. I’ve never exactly understood what the attraction was which makes me seek him out. At least he didn’t seem to be annoyed by me. Quite the contrary, he seemed to enjoy my visits.

Sure enough, he greeted me with a broad smile and insisted I stay for tea. We were on his beautiful patio, catching up, when I mentioned the encounter Gary and I had with the Texas boys. I went into in some detail. Oscar asked many interesting questions. When I told him I had a notebook full of snippets of their conversations, he became ebullient.

“Toph, do you realize what you have in your possession?”

“Lots of half-sentences and strange words.”

“Oh, my blest young man! You have innocently collected invaluable source material. An author could do months of research and still not have the golden eggs you’ve collected. What are you going to do with it?”

“I wasn’t going to do anything with it, but I did plan to make a painting of the boys. I created a great many sketches of them.”

“Write your story first! Or at least have the idea of the story firmly in mind before you paint. I’m certain the added insight will strengthen the painting. You’ve done it before, Toph! Look how your story of Ian led to the beautiful portrait you made of him and his lover.”

“His fiancé, but I’ll certainly try, Oscar. Thanks for giving me some guidance. You always seem to know exactly what I need. How do you manage to do that?”

“I find it easy to suggest things to you because you always know what I’m trying to say. For an old man, it’s enjoyable watching you expand and learn.”

At that moment, sitting on this patio, I felt a balance – actually, two. First, there was a cosmic balance where my creativity was unleashed. I could feel it as easily as I could see my hands. This place was precious to my muse. I truly wished I could live here. Second, there was a balance of color. I’m not sure how to describe it or even understand it. The color of the stone on the back of the house, the color and texture of the patio limestone, the color and size of the trees surrounding this altar where I was sitting, all these hues reflected onto this spot as precisely at the lenses of a telescope would focus the light of a distant galaxy.

I needed to be here.

“Well, ‘old man,’ I want to ask a favor of you.”

“Certainly. What do you need?”

“I’m getting near ready for a portrait of my boyfr – um, roommate. My vision of this is very different from anything I’ve done before. Could I impose upon you to let me use a part of this patio, say, way over there by the fountain, to paint the portrait? For some reason, I feel exceptionally inspired here. I’ll probably have it finished in a couple of weeks.”

“Of course you may. I’d be honored. When will you begin?”

“I don’t think I’ll be ready until next week. It won’t be until next Saturday. I’ll only need a small area inside the back room to place it when I’m not here. And thank you so much. I’ll try not to be a bother.”

“Don’t think anything of it. I enjoy having you around.”

I closed my eyes for a few moments and could see, in a blaze of turquoise, the finished portrait. Or I imagined what I hoped it would feel like.

Later, for my Saturday break, Gary chose to drive us down to the riverfront. We walked along, following the now-forgotten footprints Niles and Toph left in, what seemed, the distant past. I steered us to the same scenic-view platform on which Niles placed his hand over mine only two months ago. Gary stood close to me, wreathing his arm around my waist.

“This is such a beautiful spot, Toph. I love how the river reflects the colors of the evening sky.”

“The last time I was here, that same water appeared somehow unsettling, but not tonight, not anymore. It is as you described – beautiful and peaceful.” I turned to study him. He, whose azure eyes now eclipsed the radiance of the river. I couldn’t resist the quick kiss I gave him. After slowly walking together for another half-hour, we came upon the crab shack. He looked at me. I nodded and we entered. Tonight, without realizing it, Gary successfully supplanted all my previous memories of this riverfront.

Although we had slept together every night, that Saturday was the first time we made love since we returned. Considering our voracious sexual appetite in Texas, this may have seemed puritan. But all we needed this week was the warm and comfortable embrace of each other’s arms. The nights found us falling asleep pretty quickly, and I was always up and out before Gary awoke, not to mention the fact Anders was often around. I thought it was acceptable, though. After all, we weren’t boyfriends yet – right?

None of that mattered when we returned home to an empty apartment. That night Gary and I had a much more athletic lovemaking than we ever had. So it was another first – then second. To my utter delight, my azure-eyed dreamer became a green-eyed puma. It was a good thing the next day was a Sunday, because we didn’t drift off until after three that morning, and so seized the luxury of sleeping in.

I did paint a bit on Sunday, and then helped Joanne prepare a prime rib roast for us. I was thrilled to see her putting my secret, extra stipend to good use. It was a fitting kickoff to the last full week of April. It was a very satisfying week for me too.

I could tell the New Glory part of my portfolio would be finished by the following weekend. Contacting Luke with the news, I was startled to discover he would begin my exhibit on the first day of May. The last two days of April were a Monday and Tuesday, so I cleared all my time for working with Luke to set it up and also to determine a price for each painting. The pricing was his idea, although I couldn’t imagine anyone purchasing one of these. Of course, if one were actually sold, it couldn’t be claimed for about a month, as I needed them all for my attempt to get into Abington.

On Tuesday, an invitation arrived for Big Joe’s wedding. It was addressed to Toph and Gary. That made me chuckle. I showed it to Gary when he got home, before we left for tennis.

I smiled at him as he read it, and then I made a little joke.

“It seems we have been transformed into an official couple.”

“Move in.”

“What?”

“We sleep together every night. Why not simply move into my room. It’s certainly large enough. That will allow you to expand the studio in your room. We’ll push your bed to the back corner. We could even use it as a guest room in case your mother comes to visit.”

I tried very hard to give him a scary look, but I couldn’t keep a straight face because he was giggling too hard.

“I think you’re right, except for the mother detail.”

And so, to the amusement of Anders and Joanne, most of my clothes now live in Gary’s room, along with me. The next night, I was in ‘our’ room changing for the gym when Gary arrived from work. He walked in.

“Honey, I’m home!”

That earned him a pillow in the face. The pillow was quickly followed by my lips and a hungry kiss. When I opened my eyes, a new look appeared on his face, very briefly. Quickly closing my eyes again, I tried to memorize that expression. I wasn’t quite sure how to categorize it, let alone name it, but I simply had to incorporate it in his new portrait.

Over the next few days, I was able to sneak in a little time, here and there, to outline a story for our Texas boys. I tried to envision where this strange relationship would go in the next few years, when they finally arrived at high school. As Oscar had predicted, I almost immediately began sketching the layout for a painting. I realized, with the New Glory theme completed, this could easily be finished and added to the Abington portfolio. But it needed to be different from anything I had ever done. It needed to be huge.

Friday, at work, I stretched and prepared a five-by-eight foot canvass and brought it home to my enlarged studio. After our workout at the gym, I eagerly roughed-in our Texas boys. I actually had to walk away from it, so impatient was I to begin. However, I realized this was a project for May. Instead, I moved to my other easel and put the finishing touches on the final painting of the New Glory series. After lifting the brush from its terminal touch, I let out an uncharacteristic victory shout. That brought Gary into the room.

“New Glory is finished!”

“Let’s celebrate with dinner. Which do you prefer, Saturday or Sunday?”

“How about Sunday? My only plan for Monday is to meet Luke at the gallery to help prepare the exhibit.”

Regardless, the two of us celebrated on Friday night, in our room – alone.

The following morning, Saturday, found me in Naomi’s preparing my canvass for Gary’s portrait. After an early lunch at Happy’s, I was at Oscar’s door with my supplies. As I was setting up on his patio, I described my thoughts for the Texas boys’ story to him. Oscar expressed a little concern at the sheer length and complexity of it, but encouraged me to proceed with my concept, offering a few constructive tips.

It was a good thing I didn’t choose Saturday for our dinner because I worked on Gary until the light began to fail. Oscar appeared a few times with refreshments. I had determined to begin with shades of turquoise, to bring attention to his eyes. By now, I had seen Gary in enough light and moods to know the hues I wanted to blend, creating the abstract strokes which began his portrait. Slowly, the beautiful face of the man I’ve come to love took shape under my adoring touch.

When I ultimately had to surrender to the weakening sunlight and store the portrait inside, Oscar met me, placing his arm over my shoulder.

“Toph, my dear boy, I’ve never before observed a person come to life quite like that. Even though it is very incomplete, I can tell you love him very much. He is a lucky man.”

“No, Oscar, I am the lucky one. He is always there for me, encouraging me, supporting me and loving me. I don’t always agree with his advice, but it’s never bad and often turns out to be correct.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short, my boy. If that man has such good judgment, don’t forget it reflects upon you as well. He chose you.”

His comment made me wonder about Gary’s previous chosen ones. Did I want to know? Did I need to know?

Sunday was restful. It only took a short while to complete the catalogue of what I had done so far. I walked by the large Texas boys’ canvass several times, but was able to resist their siren song. Later, as the time approached for our celebration dinner, Gary informed me we would be taking a taxi.

“I thought we would celebrate at Belsorriso’s, since we both enjoyed it so much. This time I think we should enjoy one of his wines with the meal. That’s why we’ll take a cab.”

Mr. Belsorriso greeted us as we entered and also recognized us. I believe the evening was more enchanting than the first time we were here. This time, I chose the lamb. A rack of lamb, marinated with Sicilian oranges, stunningly presented, was placed before me. I looked at Gary, who was smiling at me.

“What?”

“The look you gave that dish, as he put it in front of you, made me a little jealous, I think.”

“I wonder if the chef would give me his number.”

“Don’t even go there.”

Our little exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Gary’s meal, Mussels Marinara. A scrumptious mountain of bucatini, coated with a soft marinara sauce, surrounded by about forty opened mussels, served on a huge oval plate.

I know very little about wine, so Gary chose a Brunello di Montalcino he was surprised to find on Mr. Belsorriso’s wine table.

“Why were you surprised to find it?”

“It wasn’t so much finding the brunello, but finding Stella’s brunello.”

“Stella?”

“Stella di Campalto is quite famous for her brunello, but she doesn’t make much of it. To find it here, in a restaurant, is almost unbelievable.”

When I discovered how much it cost, I made sure to savor every sip. Gary explained that not being a ‘factory wine,’ it had a much lower alcohol content. And so, as the evening progressed, surrounded by the ambience of the restaurant, delighting in the delicate food and being swept up into the warm colors created by the violin playing, I drank away – but did end up with a light buzz, despite the alcohol content. I figured tonight wasn’t the time to ask Gary what a factory wine was.

Thinking back, I believed it was in this very place that ‘love’ and ‘Gary’ first shared the same thought in my mind. The notion occurred to me that if Gary and I ever do become something, this will always be ‘our’ restaurant. But then, as the evening progressed and the crystal-clear crimson of the wine reflected in the soft turquoise of his eyes, I realized this would always be our restaurant. It was now clear.

Certainty.