“Who will show me their shading? That’s amazing, Angelica, keep going.” He gave instructions and taught techniques to the more advanced artists, while helping the beginners—all with a kind word and a smile on his face.
The kids were eager, but even when they were smiling it was impossible not to notice the weariness on their faces. Some had baseball caps on, others sported bald heads, several wore multi-colored or natural-looking wigs.
I turned to Leslie, who was leaning casually against the wall with a small smile on his face. “Are they going home for Christmas?” A sinking feeling in my stomach told me I already knew the answer.
“No. They can’t. And they may not see another Christmas, either. A visit from someone whose art is such an inspiration to them is a priceless gift.” Leslie crossed his arms, looking at Marin.
For the first time I noticed that his gaze was not filled with lust but admiration and respect.
“How did the project come about? He lives a four-hour drive away.” Curiosity was getting the better of me as I discovered more and more layers to my best friend. Right now, I had the perfect opportunity to ask questions about stuff Marin wouldn’t want to brag about.
Leslie pushed off the wall and picked two chairs from a stack to the side.
Taking one from him, I sat close, facing the room.
“A pipe burst in this wing last winter. We had contractors fix the drywall on an emergency call, but bare walls looked depressing.” Leslie shook his head. “I couldn’t find anyone for such a huge endeavor. I was ready to hire a company of five,maybe ten people to do it. But still no one would take the project on such a short notice. DeeDee’s niece was here for tests and we got talking about the issue. She recommended Marin and he not only agreed outright, he did the job for half the price and in half the time.” He sat back and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t glare. I offered him more, but he refused. So, the rest went towards new equipment at the oncology wing. He helped double.”
I propped my chin on my hands. “Yeah, that sounds like him”
“With a brush in each tentacle, his work was a spectacle in itself. We’d fund another wing if we sold tickets. Marin’s incredible brushstrokes transformed the corridors and rooms into a fun space with museum-quality art in the west wing. When I asked him to work on the rest of the hospital, he agreed to come in between other projects. He’s usually here once a month and stays over to talk to the kids and give art advice. They love him here, especially the patients who have been here long enough to catch several of his visits. He started a movement of sorts.”
“How so?” As Leslie talked, I pictured Marin pouring out his passion on the walls, like I used to witness during uni days when he got the chance to work on a big canvas and use all his tentacles.
“We’re pretty remote in the Adirondacks, so the entertainment is not abundant. But word about Marin’s visits got around the art world between here and New York City, and more people from the entertainment world offered to come over pro-bono.” He stood up and waved to Marin, then pointed to a supply closet and a key next to the easel. Marin nodded in thanks and retrieved rolls of paper.
Leslie sat back down and turned to me. “Tomorrow, Rod the comedian is coming but he ditched the clown costume lately. Even if the kids are too young to watch horror movies, they know who Pennywise is from social media, so a clown costume is nota hit anymore. Well, he still wore it on Halloween a few weeks back.”
I laughed. “That should do it.”
“How did you two meet?” Leslie eyed my crop-top with a paint palette and a slogan ‘Who Arted?’ on a colorful background.
I went on about our uni days, and how Marin had always looked out for anyone who needed help or was in trouble. Which a lot of the time had been me.
After an hour, Leslie interrupted the session.
“Okay, young artists. It’s dinner time.”
A groan echoed through the room, with some kids throwing brushes on the floor.
“I’ll be back in the second week of January, so we’ll continue then,” Marin said, packing the supplies he’d been using. “Now, clean up your work stations, and I’ll see you soon.” He waved with both hands and tentacles as he walked backwards to the door.
Leslie escorted us to the staff cafeteria and offered us lunch. We sat at a small, round table and dug into the sandwiches.
“So will I see you at the New Years Eve party? You haven’t replied to my email invitation.” Leslie raised an eyebrow at Marin then turned to me. “My wife is throwing one in her NYC apartment.”
“Sorry,” Marin said. “I saw your email but we haven’t decided yet. We’ll go over our plans and confirm in a day or two, okay?”
“Sure. I hope to see you there.” Leslie fiddled in his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “As agreed.” He handed them to Marin, but addressed me. “Mr. Good-hearted artist here does charity work left, right and centre, but I couldn’t ask him to drive here and back to New York a day before Christmas, Eve. Especially not after he mentioned that he had a guest over. So I offered my cabin for the night. Now, you could chill and geta good nights’ sleep before driving back.” He winked at Marin. “The fridge is stocked. Make yourselves at home, you two.”
Okay, Leslie was growing on me a bit.
An hour-and-a-half drive later—at a snail’s pace due to constant snowfall—we arrived at a huge-ass house that could only be called a cabin thanks to the log finish on the outside. The interior had indeed a cosy vibe, with wooden paneling throughout, shaggy rugs, and vintage oak furniture. I turned at the scent of pine and sure enough, a medium-sized fir tree stood to the side of a fireplace, both decorated for Christmas.
Marin hugged me from behind and kissed my cheek. “Wanna check out the bed in the guest room?”
Chapter Fifteen
Kert
