Minutes later – I have no idea how many – John releases me and takes my shoulders in his large hands.
“You are my son, Corey. And I will always be here for you, no matter what. But I want you to take all that rage and all that pain, and purgeit onto canvas, because it has no place in your new life. Don’t carry it with you, it’ll only weigh you down. And you’ve got wings, my boy. It’s time to fly.”
Twenty-eight
Nash
Corey will be home tomorrow, and I’m putting the finishing touches on a project I’ve been working on this summer with my brothers. Nancy is in bed, with Wren babysitting, and my brothers and I are out in the old orangery that’s hidden away behind a line of trees towards the bottom of my garden.
The orangery is accessed by a small pathway laid with stepping stones and lit by some new festoon lighting I installed last week. The orangery is a red brick building with walls that are only about a metre high, topped with wooden-framed glass walls and a glass lantern roof.
“I’m glad we replaced that skylight,”Archer says, ever the practical thinker. “At least it can be opened now, so he won’t bake in here in the summer.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“And I think replacing the beams was a good shout, too, the old wood was so rotten it wouldn’t have held anything, but now we’ve got those storage racks up there for his canvases so they’ll be out of his way,” Aidan adds.
The eaves space above the beams is now accessed by a sliding ladder on the one solid wall at the back of the building. Hanging in macramé holders are a selection of lush green ferns and succulents dotted around the space, and to the left is a large drafting table with a stool. There’s storage for Corey’s paints, brushes, and supplies, as well as a custom-built easel that Cole made for him.
“So, is this how the Fosters lure unsuspecting men into their beds now?” Cole jokes. “I mean, Aidan built the dance studio, and now the art studio… I need to find a potter or something. Or maybe a jeweler.”
I throw my damp rag at my brother’s obnoxious face.
“Fuck you. I just want him to have somewhere to paint that is free, secure, and…”
“And?” Aidan prompts. I roll my eyes.
“Fine, and close to me.”
“There it is,” Archer mumbles. “Have you told him how you feel yet?”
I shake my head.
“Are you going to? Because I gotta tell you, big bro, an art studio is a pretty big statement, y’know?” Cole’s not wrong. And I am going to tell him how I feel. Tomorrow, if all goes to plan.
For tonight, my brothers and I spend a few more hours cleaning the last of the dust and grime from the building works and setting it up so it’s perfect for Corey.
The next morning, I’m trying to be cool, calm, and collected as I sit on one of the bistro sets outside Poppy’s Café with a coffee, my daughter standing across from me, trying to teach Cole a clapping game that Wren taught her. The flashback I’m getting to Wren at that age, trying desperately to get even one of her big brothers to play one of her so-called ‘girl’s games’. She finally managed to get Aidan to play with her, because he has always been a giant teddy bear on the inside.
The problem is, I am very much not cool,calm, or collected this morning.
Corey is on his way back home, where he belongs. He fell in love with this place during the short time he lived here, and he deserves nothing more than to be able to build a future wherever he chooses. Am I selfishly over the moon that he chose here? Of course, I’d be a fool not to be.
I am determined to be whatever he needs right now. Friend – still not over how much I hate that fucking word – boyfriend, everything? Just like he’s become everything to me. The only way to know what he wants, though, is going to be for us to talk.
From our dozens of letters, texts, and video calls both with and without Nancy, I’ve fallen in love with the man who makes me laugh, allows me to cry, and makes me feel like the best version of myself. He encourages me to lighten up, something that Shelley will attest was desperately needed. He makes me want to enjoy life, every moment of it, and to squeeze every drop of joy from the projects, places, and people I love.
I just need to tell him that he is the man I want to share that joy with. He is one of the people I love, and is the only one I am in love with. I just have to hope that the direction we’vebeen travelling the last seven months has ultimately been leading to the same place.
I believe it has. I just hope he’s there to meet me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from the man himself.
Corey: Just coming into the village now. Can’t wait to see you.
“OK, everyone,” I call out, catching the attention of my entire family, all eagerly waiting to welcome Corey and Emma to their new home. “They’re almost here. Sweetheart, do you want to get your banner ready?” Nancy jumps up, Archer and Cole, her loyal subjects, trailing behind her without a word. They know their place in Nancy’s domain. The twins unroll the banner Nancy painted on some old wallpaper Aidan gave her.
'Welcum home Bunny and Ema', it reads, each wobbly letter a different colour. Nancy refused any suggestions on spelling, claiming, “I like it like this, Daddy”, and so I’d left her to it. Far be it from me to stifle the creative genius of a four-year-old with a paintbrush. Surrounding the letters are crude flowers, clouds, three sunshines, and a seal. It’s beautiful and perfect, just like my daughter. She puts her whole heart intoeverything she does, and I love watching her confidence grow each and every day.
