Complementary Colors (10 page)

“A wall is just a bigger canvas.”

Julia smiled. “I’m so proud of you.” She picked at the corner of my mouth. “Hold still.” She licked her thumb.

“What are you doing?”

“You have something on your face.” She scrubbed the spot. “Really, Paris, you need to work on your manners and use your napkin once in a while.” She wet her thumb again and made a few more swipes before she was satisfied. “There, that’s better.”

I sipped my wine. “What would I ever do without you?”

Layers of paint stained my hands, marking the hours I’d suffered under the brush and bleeding on the canvas.

All I had to do was look at it, give it a name, then I could shove it on the drying rack and forget it ever existed. My hands trembled. My throat tightened. The bones in my neck creaked with the effort it took to raise my head.

The writhing forms reached for me with skeletal hands covered in paper flesh. They had worn their fingertips away on their climb from the pit. Pleading cries turned into angry accusations.

“Everything was fine until you were born.”
The tone of Julia’s voice promised pain.

“You made me do this. Fucking little whore.”
I shrank away from my father.

A woman knelt down. Her cheeks were wet from crying. “
Por favor, dime dónde está.”

I threw myself back and collided with one of the workbenches.

The studio was empty.

Leftovers from a dream. It had to be. I’d painted. I’d put everything there just like I was supposed to. Somewhere in the shadows, a twig snapped.

I stuffed my wallet in my pocket and carried my shoes with me to the elevator. If Bill saw me leave the building, he didn’t say anything. And if he said anything, I didn’t hear.

At two o’clock in the morning, even the cabs became endangered animals.

After a few misses, I was finally able to get my feet into my shoes. At least my toes were safe from frostbite. I couldn’t say the same for the rest of me. I wrapped my arms around my chest. It was useless. My thin shirt offered no protection.

I went from shadows to halogen puddles until I reached the end of the block. The only sign of life was a twenty-four hour liquor store. I told myself it would be warm, but the truth was I planned on getting so smashed I wouldn’t be able to tell if it wasn’t.

The man at the counter didn’t look up from his magazine. “If you’re looking for something particular, let me know.” He flipped the page.

If I’d known what I wanted, I would have asked. Just to save myself the time.

I headed to the back.

Row after row of cheap wine, liquor, vodka. None of the names looked familiar. I grabbed the most expensive brand of…the letters on the label wouldn’t be still long enough for me to read them.

I carried the bottle to the front.

The man put his magazine on the counter and casually unsnapped the holster on his belt. I got out my wallet.

He flicked a look from my hand to my face and nodded, then rang me up. “Sixty-five eighty.”

I took out two fifties.

“Forget your coat?”

“Yeah, I was in a hurry.”

“Supposed to get colder. They say it might even snow.”

No wonder the streets were empty. The threat of snowflakes in the South might as well have been a promise of alien invasion.

“Maybe you’d like to borrow the phone and call yourself a cab?”

The thought of being trapped inside a metal box made my insides crawl.

“No, no. I’m good.”

He gave me my change. The dimes leapt from my hand and ticked against the wooden counter.

Leaves clung to my legs. Everything smelled of wet earth.

I dropped the tarp, and Julia screamed at me. “Pick up his feet.” The rain mashed the curls to her head and smeared her makeup. “This is your mess, and now you have to help clean it up.”

“Son?”

“Por favor, ¿ha visto ami hijo?”

I pressed the heel of my hand against my temple.

The man moved his hand close to his gun.

“I’m okay. Just a migraine.”

He nodded, but his hand remained near his holster.

I stuffed the bills back into my wallet. When I closed it, Roy’s card stuck up from the folds. I pulled it out. The cheap paper was smooth between my fingers.

“You said you had a phone I could borrow?”

“It’s local, right?” I nodded. He set the phone in front of me.

The time didn’t even dawn on me until after the third ring, not that I had a right to call him to begin with.

“Hello?” Rough from sleep, his deep voice slid under my skin. The trembling in my hands stopped. “Hello?”

“It’s Paris.”

Sheet rustled. A mattress squeaked. I was very familiar with that sound as well as the thump of the headboard against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Some of the grit left his tone.

“I’m not sure.”

“Where are you?”

“A liquor store near my apartment. Well, about two blocks from my apartment.”

“What’s the address?”

I asked the clerk and relayed it to Roy.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He hung up, and I cradled the phone against my chest.

“You done with that, son?”

I handed the receiver back to the man. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

I put my wallet away and gathered up my merchandise. The night pressed against the glass door. I stood with my hand on the bar.

“You can wait inside, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He picked up his magazine and resumed reading.

Roy wrapped his coat around my shoulders, and I stuffed the bottle of liquor in the pocket while he zipped it.

There were dark circles under his eyes, and his flannel shirt was buttoned crooked. The jeans he wore had a hole in the knee, but any skin was hidden behind the long johns underneath.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Don’t be.”

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“You did the right thing.”

I never did the right thing. I did what was selfish and shortsighted. I did the things that got me what I wanted. And yes, I admit, I wanted him.

I wanted the warmth of his body against mine. His arms holding me together. That voice, that wonderful voice, promising me safety.

Roy thanked the liquor storeowner and led me outside. “I think there’s a cab parked up the way.”

“I don’t want a cab.”

“You don’t have any socks on. Your feet are going to freeze before you can get home.”

They were already freezing. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Do you want to go to my place?”

“No.”

“Is there somewhere else?”

“No.”

He stopped. “Paris, what’s wrong?”

I pressed myself to him. “Just hold me for a moment.” The heat radiating from his skin, the hardness of his body, the strength in his arms erased all the bad things.

The spicy scent I’d come to know as his seemed stronger than usual. I buried my face against his neck. He exhaled, and I inhaled. His heart beat and so did mine.

Roy kissed my temple. “Talk to me, please. I want to help you.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes.”

He ran a hand over my head. “Then it’s because I want to.”

“Why? Why do you want to?”

His sigh was warm against my ear. “Because maybe if I can help you, then the world will be a better place.”

I huffed. “You sound like a Greenpeace commercial.”

His laugh vibrated through to my core and wrapped me in layers of orange and yellow.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The tires on a passing car made a wet sound against the asphalt. After another long moment, I said, “You’re wrong, you know. Helping me won’t make the world a better place.”

He cupped my chin. The shadows made the lines around his eyes deeper. Instead of looking older, he looked more rugged. “Why not?”

“Because the world will only be a better place when people like me are no longer in it.”

He cradled me. “That’s not true, and whoever told you that is a liar.”

I stepped back. But I don’t think he wanted to let me go. “Do you think there’s a coffee shop open?”

“There’s a Waffle House about a half mile from here.”

“Sounds greasy.”

“It is. But the coffee is good.”

I loved it already. “C’mon. My feet are cold.”

He put his arm over my shoulders. “I see a cab.”

The yellow car pulled up under a streetlight.

“I don’t want to get in a cab.”

“Why not?”

“Can we please walk?”

He cast a look at the car, then me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Five blocks up, the street split into a tangle of asphalt. Highway traffic hissed from behind a line of carefully arranged shrubbery. Amber running lights outlined semis and RVs parked beside a gas station. The rumble of their engines pumped into the night.

Fluorescent light spilled out the windows of the Waffle House, illuminating the parking lot. The scent of toast and bacon replaced the oily smell of exhaust.

My stomach growled.

“Hungry much?” Roy held open the door.

“Maybe.” I was hungry, and I was never hungry.

There were more people than I’d expected. The short-order cook yelled out a hello, and the waitresses echoed him.

“Do they know you?” I said.

“No. They just do that.”

“Why?”

“I guess to make you feel welcome.” Roy found us a booth for two in the corner.

One of the waitresses walked over. “Coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Roy said.

“Sugar and cream?”

“Paris?”

I nodded.

“Please.” Roy smiled at her, and she left.

“Aren’t you a Boy Scout?”

He handed me a menu. “Why do you say that?”

“Please, ma’am, thank you.”

“That’s just being polite.”

I turned the laminated rectangle over. Nothing in the pictures looked edible. I couldn’t even be sure if it was real food. I squinted at what was supposed to be a T-bone steak. “So what’s good to eat here?”

“I guess that depends on what you like.”

“What’s the greasiest?”

“Greasiest?”

“Yeah. I want heartburn and indigestion.”

“Why would you want that?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

The waitress dropped off our coffee along with a bowl full of cream packets. I could only imagine the shit fit Julia would have if she’d been expected to get her cream from plastic containers.

I poured several into the coffee. The empties left smears of white on the tabletop. Roy wiped up the mess with a napkin, then collected the plastic containers. He put everything off to the side.

“See, you are a Boy Scout.”

“I’m just like anyone else.”

I drank my coffee. It was still hot enough to burn my tongue. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Roy, I have news for you. Not everyone is like you. They don’t even come close to you.”

“They are where I come from.”

“And what planet is that?”

“A town called Arrington.”

“Never heard of it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The most exciting thing to ever come out of there was soy beans and cotton.”

“Sounds riveting.”

He humpfed. “In the summer, they have a fair where they race bull frogs and wiener dogs.”

My mouthful of coffee went up my nose. I grabbed some napkins.

“You okay?”

My eyes burned almost as bad as my sinuses. “Fine.” I blew, clearing out the coffee. “Next time, warn me when you say things like that.”

“I had no idea I said anything needing a warning.”

I wiped my face. “So what was it like growing up in Arrington, besides the frogs and dog races?”

“It was—”

“You gentlemen ready to order?” Our waitress took out a ticket book from her apron.

“Sure.” To me, Roy said, “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Hamburger, fries, chocolate shake.”

She looked at me. “And you, dear?”

I pointed to a random item on the menu. “That.”

“Do you want anything on it?”

“Uh, sure.”

She held her pen over her note pad.

“Tell her what you want,” Roy said.

“All of it.”

“Fully loaded?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” She headed off to give one of the truckers a refill.

“You didn’t even look at the menu.” Roy put it away.

“I know.”

“Do you even know what you ordered?”

“No clue.”

He shook his head.

I added more sugar to my coffee. “So finish telling me about Arrington, Arkansas.”

“Not much to tell.”

“There has to be something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“There isn’t. Arrington’s just a speck on the map. Population less than ten thousand. Most people who live there don’t even graduate high school.”

“How come?”

He shrugged. “Not much need for an education when all you’re going to do is pick cotton, farm beans, or work in a carpet mill.”

“Did you finish high school?”

“I did.”

“And let me guess, the star player on your football team.”

Roy rubbed the back of his neck.

I leaned over the table. “I’m willing to bet half your team would have bent over and spread their cheeks for you.”

His elbow caught his cup and coffee sloshed all over the table. Roy ripped out a handful of napkins from the dispenser to soak it up.

“Did you marry your high school sweetheart?”

He wouldn’t look at me.

“Were you King and Queen at your prom?” His silence was all the confirmation I needed.

He waved the waitress down for a refill. She topped mine off as well.

Roy finished mopping up the mess. She carried it away.

“Wow, you were right after all.”

“About what?”

“You’re not a Boy Scout, you’re a goddamned hometown hero.” The coffee was bitter again so I added more cream. “So with a fairy tale beginning, how come you didn’t get your happily ever after?”

“I wasn’t happy.”

“How come?”

“Because I should have never married her.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s what you were expected to do.” He picked up my empties again. “Get married, have kids. Being gay was a city folk problem, rooted in a godless life.”