The Gay Ghost - 5. Chapter 5

Next day at work I goofed up everything. I couldn't distinguish a Rembrandt from a Picasso. I insisted El Greco was a contemporary of Salvador Dali. I guess I was trying to say that they were both Spanish sculptors... I mean, painters. And I would have been fired had it not been for Paul. He helped me to get out of my mistakes -- even when he swore he wouldn't have anything to do with my work and business. I guess it was his guilty consciousness for what had happened the night before. Needless to say, I was relieved when the day was over.

The rest of the week went by mostly in a normal sort of way. Except for Friday, when Paul decided it was another favorable day for me to meet "Mr. Right." He wanted me to finish work earlier. I asked permission to leave half an hour before quitting time, but my request was declined -- it had been such an unusually busy day. I was told to return to work promptly and to finish my assessment of the newly arrived works for the El Greco retrospective, they needed it by the end of the day. Disappointed I went back to my cubicle and stared at an empty canvas -- or was it "View of Toledo Under Storm"? Paul saw me sitting there and gave me a smile -- I barely paid attention to him.

Suddenly, the fire alarm went off!

Pandemonium broke out all over the Institute. The siren whined louder than I had ever heard it during our surprise drills. This was not a drill! I stuck my head above the petition and saw everybody running in every possible direction. I guess they were trying to figure out what was more important to save: their lives or Munch's "The Scream", maybe Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon On The Island Of La Grand Jatte" -- no, no, no... too big! Perhaps...

I grabbed the El Greco in front of me and ran out the door. I didn't stop until I was at the front steps of the museum. I rested underneath one of the enormous lions that guard either side of the entrance, and, just then, I had a moment to look back: everybody was running out of the building empty handed. Huh, uh!

I tried to hide the canvas behind me, front side to the wall. 'How did I get away with this?'I thought to myself. I was lucky this was one of the smallest pieces of the exhibit.

I heard a loud laugh. I looked around me, from left to right, and above me.

'Paul?!' I almost shouted.

'Don't worry. 'Heanswered in between laughs. 'This will teach them not to mess around with you.'

'You're going to get me fired!'

'Where did you get that idea? They don't know you're the cause of this surprise drill.'

'What do you mean...? Paul! You...?'

'I had to get you out of there somehow.'

'For crying out loud! Paul! Look at this canvas.' I showed him a corner of my "stolen" treasure.

'It'll look nice above your desk.'

'Paul! I need to return this work immediately.'

'And, how do you expect to do that? Look.' He pointed to the police and firemen just arriving and hurrying everyone away from the building.

'They won't let anybody in for quite a while... Follow me.'

'Where to?'

'Follow me!'

I tried to cover the El Greco with my body as best I could and followed Paul to the Monroe Street side of the Institute. Hundreds of people were pouring out of the side entrance too.

'There!' Paul showed me a shopping bag left behind by someone. 'Put the El Greco in the bag and run!'

'Where!'

'Where else? Home!'

I arrived... we arrived home at three in the afternoon. I carefully placed the bag on the floor, next to my desk, and collapsed on the couch.

I stared at Paul standing in the middle of the room.

"What?" He asked acting surprised.

I kept my stare and remained silent.

I looked at the bag containing the masterpiece, I turned to give Paul another stern look.

Silence.

He limited himself to returning my stare with the eyes of a kid who after breaking an expensive vase tried to blame it on the dog.

The false alarm, the stolen El Greco, the great escape! This situation had enough material for a best seller -- if only there was a murder. 'I could arrange that,' I thought.

To my surprise there was no response.

Paul remained in the middle of the room looking sorry for what had happened. I detected in him a new sense of responsibility that changed my anger and fear into a warm, affectionate feeling. I stood up and put my arms around him -- our faces almost touched.

My move caught him by surprise. He raised his head, looked at me in the eyes for a few seconds and, tenderly, kissed my lips.

It was my turn to be surprised -- not so much by Paul's kiss, but by my own reaction to it. I closed my eyes and kissed him back with the same element of tenderness, plus an unmistakable dose of sensuality I had only felt in times of sexual passion. I found myself immersed in the moment.

As if awakening from a deep dream, I opened my eyes. I saw Paul's face barely a fraction of an inch away from mine. I pulled back. I lowered my eyes with a sense of unexplainable guilt. I moved back and turned away.

Paul reached for me as if trying to prolong the magical moment we had just shared. He became aware of my reaction and resigned himself to let go, as if understanding that it was better to let things stay the way they were.

I took a long shower and tried to put the afternoon behind me -- I figured Paul would help me return the painting, without any incrimination on my part, before Monday.

After a few awkward moments, and a quiet dinner, I chose to stay at home and rest. Paul started to argue my decision; but I didn't sense he was too eager to venture out, either. In any case, I wasn't going to let him maneuver tonight's circumstances to go out. I was looking forward to curl up in bed and read for as long as it would take me to fall asleep. Paul caressed my forehead and said he needed to go away for the evening. He reassured me to call him if I needed anything, then he disappeared quietly.

I had a rather restless night, I couldn't take my mind away from the day's occurrences; most of all I kept thinking about Paul -- the way he touched me that evening, the way he kissed me, the way I kissed him! I tossed and turned in bed for God knows how long. Finally, I sat on the edge of the bed and, my eyes looking down -- I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. That single incident made me want to stop thinking about him; my feelings confused and alarmed me. I got up and went into the living room, I fixed myself a drink and laid on the couch. I fell asleep almost immediately.

The sun was shinning through the window directly on my face; the drops of perspiration stung me in the eyes. I barely opened one eye, squinting with the other, when I realized I had no choice but to get up. I looked at the clock: "Nine-thirty!" I shouted as I rose to my feet -- I did that too fast and sat back on the couch, I leaned my head on the back of it: 'Paul,' I thought.

"I'm here," he startled me when he answered. I turned in his direction, he was sitting a few inches away from me. "Sorry," he said.

I smiled. It had not been my intention to call him but I was actually glad to see him.

"Hi." I finally said.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked.

"Not really." I was still feeling fatigued.

"I didn't get that much rest myself, either."

I gave him a puzzled look.

"Taking care of you mortals is a job and a half," he emphasized.

"And who's fault is that?"

"I'm an angel, you know. We are infallible..."

"Don't give me this "angel" stuff. You're a Ghost!"

"We already went over this, remember? Angel, ghost -- it's the same thing, except that some of us have more experience than others."

"You're a rookie."

"I don't profess to be Archangel Gabriel..."

"Not by a long shot."

"I have helped you, haven't I?"

I looked and pointed my head toward the bag still resting next to the desk.

Paul followed my eyes: "Oh, well... We still have that little problem to take care of, don't we?"

"WE?"

Silence.

"Okay, okay." He stood up and walked toward the desk. "I will need your help, though. I'll do the cover up, you'll do the delivery."

I smiled. "Sounds like you're planning another adventure."

His eyes looked down.

I went to him: "What's the matter?" I put my arm around him.

"I got reprimanded last night."

"I'm sorry... But I'm not surprised."

"I didn't mean for everything to get so out of hand..."

"You were trying to help, I know."

"At least you have a nice masterpiece to show off over the weekend, don't you?"

"Paul!" I grabbed the bag. "I don't know how you plan to return this painting, but you... we are going to do so immediately -- this very morning."

"Are you sure you don't want to enjoy...?"

"Not on your life! Or past life, if you prefer."

"Lives." He corrected me.

"What?"

"Never mind. You'll understand later."

I shook my head and smiled. "I need to take a shower," I said. "Afterwards, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Returning the El Greco was easier than I thought. Since I worked there, nobody questioned my presence that Saturday. And, with all the commotion the day before, nobody had missed the "stolen" painting. The only cover up Paul had to do was when we passed through the Renaissance Hall, and Paul stopped dead on his tracks in front of Manfredi's "Cupid Punished by Mars."

"Look at those rosy cheeks!" He exclaimed out loud.

I heard his remark but chose to ignore it, not because I didn't believe Cupid had a nice pair of pink buns, but because I realized Paul had made a big goof and I caught myself in time to continue walking, guarding my precious cargo, until I found myself in the safety on my own office.

I could still see in my mind the looks of the couple and the professor in the room at the time of Paul's remark; they probably gave each other accusing looks for the rude comment on the anatomy of an angel.

Paul rushed behind me -- if I hadn't know better, I would have said he was out of breath.

'Did you see those people?' He asked in amazement.

'No. I noticed them; but I wasn't about to stop and be blamed for your blunder. How did they react?'

'The two gentlemen looked at each other -- I was expecting a dirty look, instead, the guy with the girl on his arm winked and eye to the older man and, discretely, signaled with his head to follow him. By now they must be exchanging phone numbers in the bathroom.'

After a small pause we both busted in a loud laugh that raised a few heads above the petition walls of our cubicles. They all looked in my direction. I placed my hand over my mouth, I shrugged my shoulders, smiled, and sat at my desk without any attempt to give an explanation for my (unique?) behavior.

After such an eventful morning all I had in mind was to go some place where I could relax. I should have known better than that -- considering Paul's extraordinary talent for the bizarre.

'I want to go and relax at the beach.' I made the mistake of saying -- thinking.

'Of course!' Paul exclaimed. 'Yesterday's mishaps... Ahem!... are not today's loss. We can still make up for lost time.'

'No, no, no!' I covered my ears with my hands -- I let go of my ears and placed both hands over my forehead. 'I will not listen to your thoughts anymore...'

'You have to...'

'No way! I will not get involved in any of your shenanigans! Please, Paul. After the last two days, I really need some peace and quiet. Please, all I'm asking for is to go home, grab my bathing suit and towel, and go relax to a quiet beach. I don't even want to go near Belmont Rocks today. Okay?'

A pause.

'Okay.' Paul said. 'Your wish is my command.'

'Yes, gay ghost, angel, genie... whatever. My three wishes are: to relax, relax, and relax.'

'Let's go.' He motioned me to follow him. 'As I said: Your wish is my command.'