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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Toph's Empty Year - 10. Early January
Discovering.
Saturday was January 5th. It was the first time I saw or spoke to Steve since the New Year’s Eve incident. He never did call me. I was very busy at work, once the winter break ended, but I was not going to initiate the call. I may have harbored a little resentment.
Of course, Saturday was our day. After I somehow resigned from Pettibone's, Friday night was also to be our time, but with the holidays, it hadn’t yet become as deep a commitment as did Saturdays. I didn’t contact Steve to make plans for Friday and he didn’t contact me either. There was no Friday.
I began to think about things more seriously early on Saturday. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Steve. Was he merely drunk and stupid New Year’s Eve, or was he telling me something. With our mutual silence, have I been getting the message across to him that I’m upset, or has he been getting his message across to me that our relationship was in trouble?
These were not pleasant thoughts, especially after what I observed on the dance floor at that club. I stopped for my usual lunch at Happy’s.
“What’s wrong, Toph? Trouble in paradise?”
“Yeah, Betty, maybe so. I hope not but Steve and I have to air some things out today.”
“Let me wish you luck. Just remember, not all things are meant to be. Sometimes we suck all the jelly out of the doughnut and don’t recognize what’s left. Be strong, Toph!”
Is that what we’d done? Was there no jelly left? Shortly after her words of advice, Big Joe slipped in next to me. He could tell I wasn’t really there. I guess I was transparent today. There was a repeat of the conversation I just had with Betty but Joe’s advice was a little different.
“It’s easy for me to say if he breaks up with you he’s a fool. I’ve gotten to learn a little about you, Toph, and I see tons of potential. But whether straight or gay, I think a major key to a successful relationship is timing. Two people must be together at exactly the correct moment for something long-term to bloom. Maybe you guys are a little out of sync. If he met you earlier in his life, or you met him later in yours, things might have been different.”
After taking a sip of coffee, Big Joe continued. “Sometimes it’s luck and sometimes it’s waiting for the right moment. But when you fall in love, you’ll know. You’ll both know. It could be someone you haven’t met yet, but don’t be surprised if it turns out to be someone you already know. The stars have to align, the timing has to be right.”
When did Big Joe become a love philosopher?
After leaving Happy’s, I wandered into Niles’ park to clear my head. I sat on the same bench Niles and I shared and thought of – nothing. After about twenty minutes, I decided to go home and take another shower. I didn’t know which clothes I should wear for my visit to Steve's. I didn’t know what was going to happen. Would we to go out to dinner? Go to that club? Have mad make-up sex? Have a huge fight and break up?
There were so many possibilities for tonight! I decided to be casual. A simple colored tee and jeans. Betty was right of course. I knew whatever happened tonight was going to happen no matter how much I thought about it. Maybe Big Joe was right too. Maybe Steve’s and my stars weren’t aligned. If that were the case, only grief could come from prolonging this thing. I knew that.
He almost appeared surprised to see me at his door at four. The same door he had opened to me every Saturday at four! I entered and sat on the couch. Merle wasn’t there. Steve walked over and stood near me as I spoke.
“What should we do tonight, Steve? Dinner? A movie? Dinner then a movie?” He was sober.
“Um, Neither. I have to leave tonight to do something for my father. I’ll be away all day tomorrow too.”
“Oh? When do you leave?”
“I should take off at about 6.”
“Well do you suppose we have time for a kiss?”
“Oh, hehe.”
Steve plopped down next to me and we began to kiss. It was a kiss which went nowhere. Honestly, I tried. All the magic was missing. I was through.
“Well, I’d better leave so you can get ready for your trip.” I stood to leave. Steve stood too.
“OK. Sorry, Toph. I should have called you.”
One short peck, and I left.
Driving home, I realized everything more clearly. Somewhere between his warm family reunion Christmas Eve and his unexpectedly disturbing behavior New Year’s Eve, I had lost Steve. I was nearly certain he was gone.
I did make one more attempt, but it only explained more unmistakably what had happened between the Eves.
Still not having heard a peep from Steve, I got permission for an extra half hour at lunch Monday. I drove to Pettibone’s, figuring we could talk over lunch. Maybe things weren’t as dire as I was imagining. Whether they were or weren’t, I decided we should tidy things up. If it was over, it was over. The jelly was gone.
Steve always lunched in the same little place across the street from the store. I found a space in the lot behind the restaurant and was beginning to walk up the driveway toward the front. I thought I would greet him on his way in. But what I saw made me freeze mid-step. Crossing the street, dodging traffic and laughing were Steve and the cute blond boy he gave his New Year’s kiss to. No wonder he wanted to go clubbing that night.
A feeling of sadness clouded every cell in my body. I suppose I never expected us to be together forever, but as we got further into our relationship, I began to think it might have been a possibility. I thought we had such deep feelings for each other. I guess I was wrong.
It didn’t end with a fight or with one of us storming away. We simply petered out and dissolved without a whimper or a whine. We never even said goodbye. So here I was, in the second week of the new year, single.
Perhaps in Steve’s mind we always were single. We never made a vocal commitment. We never said we were boyfriends. Everyone, including me, simply assumed it was what we were.
When I returned home, I removed Steve’s portrait from my bedroom. I took it to Naomi’s and put it in the closet next to Austin. Naomi was sad about Steve too. I think she really liked him.
I’m discovering at nineteen, one has so much more to learn.
. . . . . . . .
The following Saturday was January twelfth. It was the first Saturday since had I met Steve where there was nothing to do or look forward to. During the week I had determined I needed to expand beyond portraits. Thinking about my previous failures, I came to the realization my problem was in not being emotionally involved with the subjects I had chosen. I mean, how close a bond can one find between his soul and a can of soup?
With that in mind, I left lunch at Happy’s armed with sketch pad on my way to I knew not where. It was a little brisk, but sunny. It was certainly warmer than the inside of my heart. I ended up, as usual, at the little park. I suppose it will always be Niles’ park in my mind. I didn’t know what I thought I would find there. I mused it certainly would not have been an emotional connection.
How little we know.
Near my bench, on the dormant lawn, I came to notice an old lady feeding pigeons. Maybe she had been there all along, but I was so wrapped up within myself I never noticed. Upon further inspection, I was startled to realize it wasn’t an old lady at all, but more likely someone nearer forty. She only seemed old. But why, I wondered. Why did she have the initial appearance of being so old? Her clothes weren’t shabby. She was clearly not a street person. There was simply something there, or perhaps not there.
Whatever it was, I was drawn to it and so I did, in fact, draw the scene. I made several quick sketches as she threw some type of crumbs into the air and also bent down at times. My brain saw colors in her actions; a sure sign there was an emotional link. If I saw words or scenes translated to my brain as colors, I knew from experience I was somehow connected.
I did not leave my room Sunday until the painting was finished, which was remarkably swift. It began with those initial colors slapped onto a canvass when I returned home Saturday. Sunday, I discovered the lady aswirl in crumbs and birds as she emerged from the canvass. It was the first non-portrait I was satisfied with.
I determined to bring it to the TALON meeting Wednesday to show Naomi. They chose the sixteenth because it was custom to ignore the first week of the New Year. Curious, but who was I to challenge their decision?
. . . . . . . .
I arrived a few minutes early for a change, and was greeted by Luke, who found a lovely place to hang my painting in the drawing room so Naomi could observe it from her seat at the table. I only wished to show it to Naomi for her appraisal. I was content with it, but Naomi was talented at giving me suggestions for improvement. As a result, I rarely considered a painting finished until she said so.
Naomi, and really everyone there, claimed they loved the work. It was only Oscar who asked about the subject. He was asking questions as though he thought I personally knew the lady in my painting. Others talked about the colors and the action of the birds. Naomi loved the composition and balance. Oscar was focused on the lady.
After my little private showing, the TALON meeting took on its usual witty, sharp-tongued banter. I didn’t get too involved. I wasn’t in the witty mood, I guess. When the meeting finished, Oscar pulled me aside to ask if I would follow him to his house for a light supper. When I agreed, he asked I bring the bird lady along.
Oscar lived a few streets over. As it was now dark, I couldn’t make out too much of his house’s exterior. It seemed to be surrounded by an awfully lot of land, for being located near the middle of New Glory. It was a charming older house, although I only saw the small den. Oscar had some sort of hired help, I think. There was a lovely fire warming the den and a small table to one side. It was set for one, but a gentleman appeared with a second table setting, quietly adding, no doubt, mine.
Oscar propped the painting on a chair so it was visible from the table. He made himself a drink and inquired about mine. I decided a glass of the wine from the bottle on the table would be safe, especially since we’d soon be eating. According to the label, it was a Chenin Blanc from the Loire valley. It was so delightful, I simply had to check. I didn’t usually drink alcohol, except for beer which, of course, doesn’t count. Something told me if I wanted to learn about wine, Oscar was the one to tutor me.
Over our cocktail and subsequent sole stuffed with asparagus spears, Oscar drew me out. He was really quite expert at it.
“Toph, when did you have your heart broken? I can tell it was quite recently.”
I didn’t want to dwell on Steve, so I gave him a quick run-down. But Oscar was too good. Soon I had provided more detail than I ever had expected. It was when he explained a few things about life and people to me. I learned more in two hours with Oscar than I my entire previous life, I think. Well, at least with regard to certain things.
I’m discovering at nineteen, one has so much more to learn.
He then shifted our attention to the bird lady. Oscar didn’t see the colors. He didn’t see the swirl of motion, nor did he see the composition. No, Oscar saw the lady. He queried, probed, prodded and cajoled me about that lady. It was as if he thought I was a close personal friend of hers! Needless to say, I didn’t provide too much information about someone I had never met, and seen but once.
Oscar’s interrogation plainly revealed two facts. First, I could never have painted that scene, the way I did, without having considered those things I did not know I knew. Second, he was somewhat disappointed in me for that ignorance.
“Toph, I’m going to give you a homework assignment. I want you to write her story. Write how she became the bird lady. Bring your story to the next TALON meeting and give it to me. Don’t worry, I won’t show it to anyone. That is, unless you stumble onto the great American novel.” At this he chuckled.
“You have to be crazy if you think I can write about what I don’t know. In fact, I can’t even write!”
“But Toph, you already have! It’s all there in front of us.”
“Am I supposed to find her again and interview her?”
“No, no, you’ve missed the point. Let it flow the way you let the colors flow onto the canvass. Her story will be there, I promise.”
I left Oscar’s house, carrying the bird lady back to my apartment. I dreaded the February TALON meeting when I would arrive with nothing. My only hope was perhaps he’d forget.
. . . . . . . .
This month at England’s I’ve begun to intern with architects. I know Mr. England mentioned this department back at the time of the dinner, but I couldn’t understand why he’d have need of architects. It turns out one of their little-known divisions is real estate. This company was into everything!
The real estate they dealt with was commercial. From what I observed, they appeared to buy up small parcels until they had enough to build one of those annoying strip malls. Then the architects fit some really horrible looking buildings onto the property, with enough room for parking.
I have to admit, when I first heard architecture, my vision was Frank Lloyd Wright, smoking his pipe at a large drafting board, designing stunning structures. This is a far cry from that. Once again, it was virtually all computer design. What they began with was already designed, with all the government codes and criteria built in. Their job was to modify the design to fit the space and size of each structure. Hence, the computer program pretty much limited what you could do.
It was all pretty dry and, for someone like me, almost boring. I understood my need to learn it though. The architects working here were a fun bunch of guys, so work hadn’t really been a bad month so far. I was learning a lot. One thing I was learning is how diversified businesses could become. Divisions, seemingly unrelated, were necessary for the success of the corporation.
I’m discovering at nineteen, one has so much more to learn.
. . . . . . . .
I didn’t have to mention anything to Betty or Big Joe on Saturday. They somehow knew I was now single. I must be such an open book! At least they didn’t talk about it or give me hugs or kisses. Well, Betty did give me a tight hug when I left, so there was that. Generally, I realized they knew by what they did not talk about.
Big Joe, of course, was trying to avoid thinking of his upcoming wedding. Jo, of course, made him focus completely on the wedding. It was cute to hear his side of the story. He’s so laid back and I know how intense she is, so I guess he now had a daily list of things to do. It was only twenty-two weeks away, she kept reminding him.
Another aspect for Big Joe to consider was his part in the business. After having met his father, I couldn’t imagine a healthier person. But he told me his father was developing some ailments and wasn’t able to be as active as he used to. Joe might be moving toward partnership faster than he originally anticipated. As I thought about it, I realized it could also have been the reason for the sudden wedding plans. Maybe Mr. Cucire was worse off than Big Joe was letting on. I hoped not, he was really a wonderful man.
. . . . . . . .
I did not play tennis or go to the gym with Gary so far this month. It wasn’t because of anger toward him. OK, maybe a little was. The primary reason was lack of interest in anything but work and painting. These were the things I could control. After Steve, I didn’t think I could control an interpersonal relationship with a guy. I realized it was temporary, but it was there. Like a big brick wall, it was there and I couldn’t avoid it.
I think Gary got it. I mean, I think he got it all. He knew I was unhappy with him, but he also knew I was suffering from the loss of a relationship. I knew he got it because of the way he was behaving. He gave me space, but interacted on matters not related to relationships or fun. I wasn't ready for either of those.
Both Anders and Gary had been pretty cool about it. Simply by their behavior, they’d been a great support. That support had been one of the things preventing me from a huge crash and burn. Joanne, on the other hand, had given me more hugs and kisses than she did Anders. I hope he didn’t get jealous.
I suppose I was getting all my missing love from her. I’d eventually have to get over this and find a boy, if for nothing other than sex. I’d grown accustomed to having all the sex I could want. I was missing that too. In any event, we were back to being a twosome in the kitchen. I was gaining more culinary skills. One thing I was not gaining was weight. I knew I was gaining height, but not weight. My latest jeans were longer, but a size smaller. I’d probably need to replace my entire wardrobe eventually. I was becoming a beanpole. I didn’t know your body could change like that at almost twenty.
I’m discovering at nineteen, one has so much more to learn.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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