We laugh and clink our glasses while I try not to tear up.
They still want me, even after everything I put them through. No one is upset or disappointed in me. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you guys,” I admit. “I know it’s been a rollercoaster getting here, and you have endured more of it than you should have, but I’m grateful nonetheless.” The words are not enough, can never be enough to properly encapsulate what each of the three of them mean to me. My brother who gifted me a golden ray of hope to keep me warm on the dark days. My friend, who has shown me the courage to try new things and be exactly who I want to be. Chase, my love, my purpose. I wouldn’t be here now if he didn’t remind me that there was life after tragedy.
While my meager declaration didn’t come close to telling them the depths of my love and appreciation, from the way they’re each looking at me now, they still know. “You know what was more than I should have endured?” Brady asks. “That pack of rapid dogs showing up to my door looking for your ass when you and Landon tried to throw the universe out of whack.”
“By rabid dogs, he means basketball players,” Chase adds for the sake of my clarity.
“Which is the same thing. I thought they were going to swing on me when they found Blake in bed with you.”
She’s quick to her own defense. “It was a very bad day. Chase could have kicked me out of bed and made me go home. I forgot that those weirdos get up at the ass crack of dawn. Man, their faces were priceless though.”
“Did you tell them it wasn’t like that?” I ask.
Blakely smirks. “Absolutely not. Landon did not know what to do with himself when he found out Chase was a thousand percent gay, way after that day. It was hilarious. But that is how I found myself being yanked out of another man’s bed and carried out the door in nothing but a shirt and underwear.”
Chase laughs. “That’s a good one. You know what was more than I could endure? Brady’s surfer-hair phase.” My brothersquawks in protest, but Chase pushes on to explain in graphic detail how much Brady fussed over his hair. That’s the game we play all the way to the restaurant. Eventually, I join in with my own additions. All the things we couldn’t endure, but what we just went through doesn’t come up one time. Maybe I was wrong to assume it was too much.
~~~
I realize this is not the point of the evening, but I can’t help but wonder where all these framed sketches came from. They’re mine, obviously, but who submitted them? Honestly, I was as checked out of this process as I could have been. This is a bit much, though. I try to catch Brady’s eye, or Blakely, or fucking any of them. As if they sense my desperation, it’s a suddenly impossible task.
What assholes. Sketch-stealing assholes.
People are milling about, examining my deepest darkest secrets of my soul while I am… not sure what to do with my hands. An older gentleman approaches me, and like an incessant fly, I swat away my instinct to flee. It’s fine. This is what people do at these events. Of course I’ll have to talk to potential buyers.
The smile on my face is open and friendly and entirely a creation of necessity. “Hi. Are you enjoying the show?”
The man looks around, appraising my dreams laid out before him. “The artist has a very fresh perspective, I’ll say that.”
Because I’m an idiot, the first thought I have is what comes out of my mouth. “Thanks, I think.”
His eyes are quick to snap towards me. Internally, I shrivel and die of humiliation. “This is all your work?”
Don’t back down now. You got yourself into this mess.“Yes. Well, unless you don’t like them then it’s not me.”
He laughs like I’ve made a clever joke, and I join in to keep that illusion going. The man sticks his hand out to me. “Damien Waters.”
“Easton Callaghan,” I return, shaking his hand.
“Well, Easton, I’d love to hear a little about your inspiration, especially for the featured pieces.”
And that’s how I launch into a summarized story of my life. Or at least the things that ended up on the highlight reel. The impact of my brother and I living in terror that someone would discover the sins of my depression and queerness. How that led me right into the hands of someone seeking to take advantage of me. The way these things led me to attempting to take my life and how hard climbing back up has been.
When I’m done, hesitantly I look into Damien’s face, expecting to find pity or maybe disgust. Instead, there’s a terrifying level of understanding that sends my heart galloping into outer space. He clears his throat. “Um. Wow. That’s an incredible story of overcoming hardships if I’ve ever heard one… My sister committed suicide when she was fifteen. I wonder every day who she would have become if she could have hung on long enough to get help.”
My stomach sinks as the familiar pain burns in my throat. “I’m so very sorry, Damien. I really am.”
He nods, lingering in the ghosts of should-have-beens, even after all this time. “We didn’t know much about mental health either back then. It was a long time ago,” he says, like that somehow excuses the grief he’s endured for years.
It doesn’t. “What was her name?”
That visibly lightens some of his pain, as if it’s been too long since he’s spoken it aloud. “Rose.”
“It’s a beautiful name. I know it’s not any consolation, but if I had been successful, I would have wanted someone to tell my brother that as hard as it is to believe, I held on as long as I could, and he helped me get that far. Not in any way would there have been something he should have done differently.”
Damien’s warm brown eyes grow misty. “You’re a very insightful young man. Thank you—both for asking about her and the kind words. Suicide touches far more people than it should.” I nod in solemn agreement. I almost didn’t get this far, and more than ever, I’m so glad I failed. “I’ll let you get back to mingling, Easton. This is a big night for you, and you should enjoy it. I’m going to leave you my business card. I’d love to chat with you further about some commission pieces.”
Stammering to catch up, I take the card and pocket it. “Oh. Yeah, of course. It was lovely to meet you. Thank you for coming tonight.” Is that a normal thing to say? Hell if I know. But Damien is already slipping into the crowd.
