Toph's Empty Year - 18. Early May

Insight.

It came to me, for the first time in my life, that I was gaining insight. May Day was on a Wednesday this year. I was surprised to discover Luke did intend to premier the show on that day. I’m sure I had previously explained that the gallery, along with most businesses, closed on Wednesdays in our little town. Since there was no competition from extrinsic chain stores, they were able to retain this small gesture of gentility.

To have Luke open on Wednesday, featuring my show, revealed something to me about Luke and his interest in me. He once called himself the talent scout for TALON. I was now beginning to understand he was much more than that.

Monday and Tuesday, while we were setting up, he mentioned how proud he was of me. I seriously pondered that statement. It was an interesting comment. Your father may be proud of you. Your teacher may be proud of you. Your employer may be proud of you. They can express such a feeling because they may have had some part in bringing you to the position which makes them proud. Luke, however, didn’t really fit into that mold. It gave me some insight into Luke.

We had a very good time positioning the paintings so they would have a logical flow, as the visitor browsed the room. My Anders Martin Tomb was clearly the initial focus, as it highlighted the founding father of New Glory. We quibbled over a few minor points, but were able to resolve those differences pretty quickly. We both easily agreed that my Jeunes et Vieux, the young skateboard girls sitting before the old bank building, now a wedding shop, should be the final picture since it juxtaposed the old with the young, the formal with the informal, and the past with the future of New Glory.

Pricing the paintings was a difficult concept for me. I allowed Luke to make those decisions. I have to admit, he was quite clear in his explanation of how he came to his recommendation for each work. It wasn’t a crapshoot; he knew exactly what each should be priced. I was quite surprised at the amounts he was asking, which I thought were high, but as I wasn’t expecting to sell any, I decided it was a moot point.

Luke explained I should plan on being present for most of the opening day, and then drop in for an hour or two each day I was able, especially in the first week of the show. I was up early on the first morning, having not slept too well. I hoped I hadn’t kept Gary up all night. I think he sensed my nervousness, as I received an extra supply of hugs and gentle kisses all morning.

“Are you sure you don’t want me there? I can take the day off.”

“No, don’t be silly. There will only be a few people show up, probably all locals.”

He massaged my neck, and calmed me with an incredible kiss and wished me good luck before he left for work. I was about ready to leave by then too. Upon arrival, I was greeted by an empty parking lot, save for Luke’s Lincoln. Of course, being anxious, I was about a half-hour early. It was all for the good, because it gave me some time to be alone with him.

Luke had a lovely program printed, with an artistically rendered “TD” dominating the cover. It contained a brief description of each work. I realized he had cleverly interrogated me as we were hanging the paintings. I’m certain he did not take any notes, which meant he had a prodigious memory. I keep discovering more layers to my friend.

Later in the gallery, I asked him, “On the back page you’ve included contact information for me.”

“Of course! You may get a commission out of this show.”

“Oh, do you really think so?”

“Certainly.”

“But you have an email address printed. It says tophfreed@ngg.org. I don’t even have email.”

“You do now. I took the liberty to create one for you on our site. Your password is toph which you should change, of course.”

I read the entire booklet, noticing that his description of Toph Denny simply said ‘student.’

“Thank you for not calling me ‘Christopher’ Denny.”

Luke only stared at me, as though I had just uttered the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. The visitors began to trickle in shortly after the gallery opened. The first few faces were familiar ones, including those of Naomi and Abigail. By noon the gentle influx of viewers continued a few each hour. I found myself in conversation with most of them, describing a few of the locations in more detail for those not from New Glory. Everyone seemed pleased with the show, especially the locals, as one should expect.

At closing time, Luke told me he was delighted with the first day’s attendance.

“Word of mouth will begin to spread, my boy, especially in the local art circles. I recognized a few people from the city today. Everyone seemed to be impressed.”

I returned home quite invigorated and optimistic. Gary noticed it when I couldn’t stop talking about the day at the gallery. I’m sure he also took note of the unusually spirited game of tennis we had. We decided to stop for a bite on our way back. Anders and Joanne were home when we returned. Naturally, his mother had already described the show, having remained at the gallery nearly the entire day. Anyway, he offered his congratulations with a hug. Joanne did with a kiss.

I was fidgety though, and explained why. The show had, in some numinous way, gotten my creative juices flowing and I could hear the mauve supplications of the Texas boys summoning me to my studio. As soon as it was politely possible, I found myself standing before the huge canvass. I stared at the roughly penciled work I had created all those days ago, and realized what a foolish mistake I had nearly made. The boys needed to tell me how to proceed, not the other way around.

And so I began. Closing my eyes, the colors of our Texas beach flooded my senses. The sand, the water, the variegated dawn skies, they all swirled before me. Taking brush to canvass, the abstract patchwork slowly buried my old puny and restricted sketch. After nearly two hours, this statement of mood was established and complete. My canvass vibrated!

I cleaned my brushes, now satisfied that the black field of combat was exorcized, leaving the bright-green meadow of sagacity free to host the love I felt for those two boys. Studying the abstract image before me, I realized it was more than the boys; it was the entire vacation. And then it struck me. It was even more than the vacation; it was Gary and I.

Insight.

The final weekdays found me working at Naomi’s. Upon her insistence, I took a generous amount of time to visit the gallery. I was surprised to see how the traffic had slightly increased each day. I met and conversed with some very interesting people from the city. They were more than kind with encouragement and compliments. Friday, I discovered I had sold my first painting. Of course, it was the Anders tomb, and it was bought by Abigail and donated to the historical society. I didn’t know if that counted, but it certainly would add value to my credit union savings.

I visited the gallery in the morning on that first Saturday. After lunch with Betty and Big Joe, I hastened to Oscar’s place where, after three hours, I had finished Gary’s new portrait. I was truly pleased with what had been captured. It was so very different from any other portrait which had ever emerged for me. For one thing, while it dissolved just below the neckline, it was obvious he was wearing no shirt. Gary materialized pure; undefined and undefiled by clothing.

I stood there, on Oscar’s magic patio, considering the portrait. It contained the look I had memorized when he kissed me after I hit him with that pillow back in our room. It was there. It was perfect. The turquoise of his eyes reflected just a glint of the green I had seen when my puma took me that night, a few weeks ago when we returned from the river. Yes, everything was present in this portrait. Oscar woke me from my thoughts.

“It’s really quite intimate, my boy. That was all developed just from your work today.”

“You’re right. It simply bubbled out this afternoon! Do you think it’s too much?”

“Oh, Toph! What you deeply feel, is never too much.”

“He needs to stay here with you until just before I give it to Gary. I haven’t decided when to do that yet. It has to be a special moment.”

“Of course he can stay here. And it does need a ‘special moment’ to be presented.”

Sunday, Gary and I decided to take a day off from everything that had been going on. I even prepared Eggs Benedict for breakfast after I noticed some peameal bacon in the refrigerator. I hoped I left enough for whatever Joanne had in mind when she bought it. My Hollandaise was whisked to a perfect emulsion. I was really proud of myself when the hungry glint appeared in his eyes. This time, of course, it was for the food. I noticed it was a very close cousin to that other hungry glint.

After breakfast, I determined our ‘previously chosen ones’ conversation was long overdue. In fact, it was much more than that. Gary and I never had a full discussion of our lives before we knew each other. I think fear had caused me to avoid it. Fear he would be disappointed in me, and that I might discover something in his past which would prejudice me against him. Now, though, I doubted any of those fears were valid at this stage in our relationship, whatever we had.

“You realize I’ve only had two lovers. One, of course, was Steve, who knifed me in the back. The other, the first, was Austin. We weren’t really boyfriends. While we were in high school, Austin had a couple other boys he was intimate with, although I knew we two were special. Maybe I was his favorite, or we had deeper feelings for each other. I haven’t completely sorted that out yet, but I don’t think it’s important anymore. I don’t know anything about Gary though. Shouldn’t we talk about you?”

“Yes. But first, can we talk a bit more about Austin? I’m just curious about a few things.”

“Sure, what do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you also have a couple others you were intimate with? I’m sure you were as attractive as you are now. Were you in the closet?”

“That’s a good question. I actually have been thinking about it lately. At the time, I thought I was in the closet. Having more than one lover would potentially expose me to friends and family. I think I was really worried about my family. When I told you guys I was gay, I thought I was coming out for the first time. But I think I was wrong. I think I had deceived myself.”

“How? In what way?”

“Well, I always knew my friends knew. When we were all together, Austin and I only hung around with them for a little while. Then we would make our excuses and leave. I knew then that it was no secret what we were up to. My real fear was my family. But this year I’ve come to realize they always knew too. I don’t know why I created that little fiction. Perhaps I really wanted Austin and me to be a couple, and was upholding my part by being monogamous. Perhaps I didn’t want Clarence to have any more ammunition for his dinner gibes. I’m not sure. But I am sure it was all created in my mind. And that makes me wonder what else was created in my mind, but I’m not nearly ready for that discussion yet.” I barked a nervous little chuckle. “Maybe I should see a shrink.”

“Well, my story is quite a bit different. My curse was that I became defined by my name. Everyone in school knew what my name meant and it put me under the social microscope. I was actually outed by a former boyfriend when I refused to pay him hush money. It turned out to be no big deal socially, as all our circles had long moved past homophobia, but it did turn out to be a big deal to be a potential victim. Not a victim of homophobia, but a victim of any type of extortion one could dream up.”

“But that would have nothing to do with you being gay.”

“You’re right. But it was his action which suddenly made us aware of the possible dangers lurking for me. It was that potential threat which drove my father to suggest I live with my uncle and change schools. They even created a fictitious last name for me. Instead of Garrett England, I became Garrett German. I know, it was ridiculous, but both my father and uncle were very concerned for me. I was only fifteen and that’s when my uncle started grooming me to someday take over the business. I was never in an actual high school after that. I was tutored and received my diploma when I had barely turned seventeen. Later, I shared both college and ‘executive training’ pretty much for the next several years until I received my MBA. After that, I was in my uncle’s home office until last summer, when I was put in charge of the complex here in the city. Sort of boring, I know.”

“What about your love life? There must have been some boyfriends along the way.”

“Really, there were no boyfriends. I did meet some boys in college, but was always afraid of having another boyfriend. I guess that first experience soured me on the idea.”

I studied him for a minute. “Then there’s no hope for us?”

“Toph, don’t ever doubt us.” Gary reinforced his statement with a warm hug and loving kiss. “You’ve changed me, inside and out.”

“OK. Who are you? Are you Garrett England or Gary Blake?”

“At work I’m Garrett England, actually Garrett Blake England. When I moved here, I decided to go by Gary Blake, socially. I guess old habits die hard. I was still worried.”

“You do realize, we’ve both shed our birth names. I wonder if that provides a little insight into us.” With that, we each laughed, said laugh being stifled by another great kiss. Then Gary jumped up.

“Come on, grab a jacket.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

It took over an hour of driving along the river to ‘see,’ with me asking, “Are we there yet?” every ten minutes. We arrived at a park which was heavily populated and very, very noisy. It was the day for boat races! Five-liter hydroplanes, to be exact. They were fast and noisy. Gary said they were traveling over 100 miles per hour, and that piece of information didn’t surprise me one bit.

We had a fun time together watching them. Of course, we could only understand ourselves between the races. I hoped my hearing didn’t get too damaged. Every so often, we broke away to visit the concession stand for hotdogs and sodas. I know, not very healthy, but perfectly fitting. We even got to inspect a racer close up. Gary explained a lot to me, so I realized he was not new to them.

On the ride home, I expressed my mixed feelings about my brother Charles.

“We still text every few days. He talks to me about his girlfriend. He always had trouble keeping them.”

“Does he ever mention your family?”

“Sometimes he shares a little anecdote about Clarissa and her upcoming wedding, usually when Teddy does something to irk my mother. That’s the only time he mentions Mother though. I’m pretty sure from some of the things he’s said, that Charles was the one who put Clarence up to making contact with me and apologizing. I think he gave Clarence some big-brotherly advice. I’m still not sure what to do about Clarence, but I do want to make contact with Charles. I know I’m gun shy, but I think it’s time. What do you think?”

“Well, only you can make that decision. Why don’t you invite him your gallery show? You could use that opportunity to give him the portrait you made of him last fall.”

And so I did, texting from right there in the car. Charles answered promptly. He and his girlfriend agreed to visit me at the New Glory gallery a week from that next Monday. I didn’t mention his portrait. That would be my surprise to him.

The following week saw me visiting the show, discovering to my utter surprise that a few paintings were sold, and not to Abigail. There also was a TALON meeting, where Oscar tried to describe the portrait of Gary, which was temporarily living at his house. Also, Luke reported on the success of the show, now nearing its halfway mark. My contribution was solely about the Texas boys, whose love was coming to life in my studio. I attempted to describe the painting.

“Well, when we met them last month, they were only about thirteen years old. The story I have created, moves them forward into high school and tries to follow their strange relationship there, or what might have become of it, if the fiction of my story were true. In my story, they were now fifteen. And, remarkably, that is how old they seem in my painting. I don’t know how that happened, but they have filled out a bit and their faces appear much more grown up. Honestly, I did not do it intentionally.” At that, I saw Oscar nod. Hmm, I thought. A little more insight into what Oscar does to me.

“The blond boy has filled out with more muscles and he is sitting on a deep-red towel in the sand. He is propped up on his left arm, half facing the brunette. His right leg is up, bent at the knee, while his left leg is stretched straight out on the towel. His right hand is idly playing with a small shell, on the blanket, just to the left of his leg. He is clearly listening to his friend, but not looking at him. There is a slight blush on his cheeks. The brunette is sitting on his shanks on a matching red towel. He, however, is directly facing his friend. He is talking, probably explaining something because his hands are gesticulating. He looks older too, but he is still much slighter than his blond friend. It is clear, whatever he is talking about, has the blondie embarrassed. The boys make up the right two-thirds of the painting, while the shore can be seen on the left side.”

I wasn’t certain they could understand what I clearly saw in my mind, but Luke made sure they would all be able to.

“When do you think it will be finished?”

“I hope by the weekend.”

“Could you please bring it to the gallery? I could place it in the foyer for the last few weeks of your show.”

“You haven’t seen it yet.”

“I just did.”

“It’s large, five-by-eight feet!”

“We have a large foyer.”

“I’ll need a pickup truck or something.”

That’s when Naomi volunteered hers.

On Thursday, I called Abington. I was assigned an application counselor and asked to visit the very next day. I did meet with a Dr. Boynton on Friday morning. He was very pleasant and informative. Everything seemed casual, but I knew this school’s reputation and realized he was scrutinizing me. I did receive a handful of documents and applications. I now knew the timeline and was feeling pretty confident. I mentioned the central theme of my portfolio, with which he seemed impressed. He was even more impressed when I explained this entire theme was featured in an art show at the New Glory gallery. He fumbled around in a drawer for a minute, fishing out a copy of the program.

“Luke sent this to me. I was going to get around to visiting your gallery, but I had no idea this was you. Look there’s your name, right on the cover!” He seemed thrilled. I was thrilled. For me, it added another bit of insight into Luke.

I was in such good humor from my Abington meeting that later, after returning with Gary from the gym, I was able to finish the Texas boys! Another victory cry brought all three friends into my studio. Of course, Anders and Joanne never saw the boys, but I had certainly inflicted the story on them enough. Gary, however, studied the painting very carefully. He completely understood what I had done or, I should say, what they had done.

“It’s them a couple years from now. Aw, Toph, this is perfect. I can hear the one essentially trying to argue that they are, in fact, partners. The blond is blushing and afraid he’d admit it if he looked at his boyfriend!”

Gary insisted we celebrate with a toast. This time he prepared a real drink. No beer or wine to celebrate those boys. It was a simple cocktail, but made carefully. First he crushed ice to nearly a powder, and then filled four small glasses to the brim. He cut a lemon in half, slicing four paper-thin rounds from the cross-section. Placing a round on top of the ice in each glass, he filtered Irish Mist through every lemon slice until the glasses were filled.

“What is this called?”

“An Irish Mister.” Then we held our glasses high, as Gary toasted. “Here’s to our Irish Master!”

I thoroughly enjoyed the slightly sweet, subtly tart drink, which filtered back into our mouths through the lemon.

On Saturday morning, I heard back from Dr. Boynton that my interview was scheduled for Monday, June tenth. Following that, I visited the gallery for a few hours until lunchtime. I discovered that a few more paintings were sold. During lunch with Big Joe, I learned the sad news that his wedding was now in a race against time with his father’s cancer. He said his dad was making a courageous battle to see his son wed. I was utterly stunned that it all happened so fast. When I first met him, only a few months ago, he was the very picture of health.

My next stop was to visit Oscar and retrieve Gary’s portrait. I was toying with the idea of giving it to him Monday night, after Charles’ visit was behind me. Of course, I stayed there for over an hour, enjoying the mystical patio and his mesmerizing company. I do love Oscar.

Sunday found Gary and me on another stroll by the river. I was beginning to understand that this river seemed to connect us; flowing through us both, like shared blood. More insight.

“I have a proposition.” Gary’s delivery betrayed no emotional clue.

“Oh?”

“If I know anything at all about you, the weeks leading up to your interview are going to be filled with self-inflicted stress.”

“Yep, you’re probably right.” I had to chuckle.

“Remember how less frazzled and more focused you became after our Texas vacation?”

“We’re going back to Texas?”

“No. Neither of us have time for that, tempting as it may sound. I was thinking we could fly to Florida to spend next weekend sailing. My uncle has a sailboat there. You’ll hardly know you’re gone, but will return refreshed.”

I didn’t need to think very long about that. “Yes! It sounds like fun.”

“Great, I’ll make all the arrangements.”

“You realize, I actually do know how to sail.”

“It’s not a worry.”

Which, I thought, was a strange thing for him to say. Our lovemaking that night was not strange though.

Before he left for work, I had asked Gary if he could get off a little early. I knew Charles would be visiting that afternoon and I wanted him to meet Gary. I thought that after his visit, Charles could drive me downtown, where we would all have dinner together. Then I could return home with Gary. He agreed and we chose a convenient little restaurant.

After that, I went to Naomi’s, spent a few hours working and borrowed her truck and also the boy she tutors each Monday. Together, we wrapped and loaded the Texas boys onto the truck, delivering them to the gallery. I brought him and the truck back to Naomi and then left for the gallery again.

When I arrived, Luke and one of his helpers had already mounted the painting in the foyer. Luke was beside himself.

“Toph, your description did not do this work justice! I can’t believe it! We have to set a price before anyone else sees it.” What he suggested was beyond my comprehension. I knew no one would pay that much for a painting of mine. But I sort of liked my boys, and really wasn’t all that eager to part with them, so I agreed.

A few hours later, I saw Charles enter, and with a pretty girl at his side. It was a very warm reunion. He hugged me tightly. I think I noticed a tear in his eye, but I couldn’t be sure because mine were surprisingly filled up too. He then introduced me to Anne. With a name like Anne, I instantly knew she was not from Euphoria. Sure enough, she was genuine.

I gave them a program and began the tour, as their personal guide. They both seemed to like the paintings. I described everything, background information and all. I even told them the little story I had created about the skateboard girls just before the tour was finished.

“Toph, I’m blown away! I had no idea you had this kind of talent. Why did you keep it a secret?”

“I’m beginning to realize I was sort of a mixed-up kid. But with Gary’s help, and some great new friends, I think I’m growing up. By the way, I hope you two can have dinner with Gary and me downtown in little bit. I really want you to meet him.”

“Of course, we’d be delighted. We can’t wait to meet this magician.”

“Oh, come on now, I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were even worse.” He offered me a smile though.

“Oh, before I call Gary, come into Luke’s office. I have something for you.”

When we walked in, I noticed Luke had put Charles’ portrait on an easel with a spotlight on it. I was beginning to think it was Luke who’s the magician.

Anne gasped. “Oh, Charles! I know that look. This is amazing.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and quietly spoke.

“It’s yours, brother. He’s been waiting months for you to take him home.”

That was followed by another hug and another tear. I texted Gary when we were about to leave, but Luke made sure Charles saw the Texas boys again. In fact, Luke seemed to make sure everyone saw the Texas boys.

On the ride home from the restaurant, I was contentedly telling Gary how happy I was that we all got to meet, especially before Clarissa’s wedding. I wasn’t at all sure how that was going to go. At least my brother and boyf… er, roommate, got to know each other a bit and seemed to like each other.

When we arrived home, I paid a little visit to the studio and then called Gary in. His new portrait was now on an easel, flooded in soft light. He stared at it for the longest time. I became worried he didn’t like it. I began to question myself. Does Gary understand?

“I can’t hang this in my office.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Are you crazy? It’s magnificent.”

“Then, I’m confused.”

“It’s too personal, Toph. This is just for you and me. It’s for our room only.”

I received a short, but sweet kiss. Is Gary really in love with me?

Then he stood back, looking at me. Did I understand him?

I remember every detail of what followed. He came close and very slowly unbuttoned the seven buttons of my white shirt. Sliding one hand under each shoulder of it, the shirt fell to the floor. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke.

Next, my bright, white tee was slipped over my head and fluttered down, joining the other. Again, I was caught in his eyes. This time they were aquamarine.

What followed was a longer, sweeter kiss to my lips. He slowly began to lower himself in front of me, brushing my now stiff nipples on his way down to gently kiss my navel. He kissed it exactly three times.

I distinctly remember my pants being unbuttoned. One, two, three, the fly buttons were freed. The navy pants then slipped to the floor. I stepped out of them, feeling his breath against me. I felt the goose bumps over all of my skin. I could almost count each one.

My socks somehow got slipped off. At about that time, I began losing track of the sequence of events to which I had been trying to pay such close attention.

Yes, I do remember his eyes. Yes, they were seared into my brain now, turquoise with flashes of green–identical to his eyes in the portrait. Yes, my Gary was right. Yes, it was too personal. Yes, he made love to me on the mother-in-law bed in my studio. Yes, my puma took me, while his likeness looked on, witnessing me becoming his, without any hint of any question of any doubt.

Yes, insight.