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Chapter Seventeen
Dizzy Up the Boy: Part One
I grabbed Gerard’s hand suddenly. We had been talking occasionally, having the silent moments as well. But I had enough of that and wanted to something I had a craving for. “Come on,” I urge him to follow me. He went willingly, smiling at me widely. I brought us over to the middle of the living room where his easel was. I pointed to it and smiled back at him. “I want to paint.” My eyes were as wide as they would go. I would have opened them further but it was impossible. I waited patiently for Gerard’s answer. He was stunned, his eyes wide as well. “You do?” The smile grew large on his lips. A picture of him against me popped up in my head. I felt the warmth run through me, remembering what happened just moments ago.
I wanted to pick up a paintbrush and create the lines so random to everyone else but which held so much meaning to me. It felt like Gerard and I hadn’t done enough of it. I wanted to stand how he stood, stare at what I was painting the way he did. I wanted to feel inspired like he did all the time. I didn’t know why he ever stopped. He was right, I didn’t need lessons – not for what he was thinking. But I did need lessons for getting better, for life. I didn’t want to learn from anyone else other than him
“Where’s the paper?” I looked around the room trying to scout some out in the slight mess. “It’s not paper. That’s almost as bad as calling art stuff.” I gave him a stare, a stop-talking-and-find-the-canvases stare. He immediately got it and went off to find them. I watched his every move, from the sway of his hands down to the jump in his step. He was tall and lively. His hair bobbed with his footsteps, bouncing out of place every once in a while. “Why do you want to paint all of a sudden?” Some how, I knew this was a trick question. The tone in his voice was the same as it always had been, it wasn’t he who gave himself away; it was only me over analyzing. A good thing, too. “I’m inspired.” Gerard turned around to face me. My answer pleased him. It didn’t matter to me whether he knew I understood another one of his tricks. What matters is that I did answer the question with full honesty. I wanted to paint because I felt my own spark light inside me, willing me on to do something. And that something, was painting. I heard a crashing sound – it disturbed my thoughts and brought me back to reality. I glanced in the corner where Gerard stood, hunched over with a bunch of things spilled out on the floor in front of him. “Oh!” I stepped quickly over to him, not thinking twice. “I’m sorry!” His hands picked up a big pile, bigger than I would have expected those hands to hold, and place the shit on top of all the drawers and boxes. I attempted to do the same but my little hands could do nothing compared to what Gerard was handling.
“Here, you can have this one.” He handed me a blank canvas. He stared at me until I nodded and walked away back to the easel. He followed close behind with his own in hand. He motioned for me to sit in a spinny chair I hadn’t noticed was there before. It was place in front of the easel. “But, aren’t you going to use it?” Gerard shook his head, he was in another one of his moods where talking wasn’t his top priority.
I hoped right then that he would remember what I had told him a little while ago. I didn’t want him forcing himself into being in his world – he created beautiful things and was beautiful even when with the real reality we were living in. Just to be sure he wouldn’t slip up, I moved away from the odd random chair, took a seat next to him on the couch. I liked how he didn’t give a fuck if paint dripped down into the fabric, even if it would stain. Everything about him screamed care-free. “What are you doing? I’ll sit here, please; you need it more than I do.” I shouldn’t have taken that as an insult but I did anyways. I shoved that aside, though. “I want to be next to you,” I raised my eyebrows and titled my head to the side. “Is that a problem?” Gerard giggled, he showed his yellow teeth. I realized then that I had never actually seen him smoke before. Never had I seen a pack lying around. I thought back, maybe I had? I was having doubts but that topic was random, it didn’t relate to what was happening now.
I stared back at Gerard whose eyes were full of wonder. “I want to paint with you. I don’t want to be observed.” A smile grazed through him again, making me feel weak with happiness. That’s all I ever wanted was the paint with him, right then at least. It sounded like the coolest fucking thing in the world to me and I was about to do it! I wondered of what the hell I was going to paint. I already did a flower, field thing. I didn’t quite feel like repeating myself tonight. Maybe…something else. “Shit.” I said out loud without even knowing. I didn’t realize until Gerard’s head shot up. “Something wrong?” He had already begun creating yet another master piece. The buckets of color moved to where we were which was impossible because we were both there the whole time. Neither of us got up to get them. I furrowed my eyebrows and forgot about it. “I –,” I sure as fuck didn’t want to tell him was inspired and then confess I had no idea what to paint That would just be embarrassing. He was still waiting for me to continue. I wished he would just go back to painting; totally ignore what I was saying or even doing. Damn! Just have him forget I was there.
I needed to give him an explanation; I just didn’t have any good ones right now. Oh Christ, I thought to myself. I looked down at the brush I held lightly in my hand. That object didn’t belong there. Not right now at least, but that seemed so strange. I wanted to express whatever I was feeling through art and yet the tools I had to use, the one I held in my hand, just didn’t fit. I wasn’t feeling it anymore. Inspiration meant everything, it meant no matter what your mind would set to work at creating something beautiful and pristine, but my mind was far from that, on the other side of the world thinking of something completely different. Gerard.
Unlike him I was unable to shove aside what had happened earlier that day and the other night. I was afraid of whom I was becoming but I believed it was all part of the grueling process. I was afraid I’d lose all the feeling I got when I felt his skin against mine. It was such a new thing for me that I wanted it every second. I dropped what I had in my hands and looked to the ground for guidance – which I what I had always done before. Walking with my head down, essentially blocking out the rest of the cruel, cruel world. Now I realized that looking down wasn’t going to do me any good. My sight needed to be set on Gerard. I was able to bring my eyes to his. He had stopped painting. He was still waiting for me to say something. I had been mute for the longest time I forgot what the question was. I sighed and let all the stress go from my body. “I’m sorry.” I mumbled under hushed breaths. I was embarrassed beyond belief. I hated it when people saw me this way. It gave them a chance to look at my weak side; to see all my ticks and flaws. Though I had many, too many to count, people still seemed to nail them in a split second, and use them against me in the next. I knew Gerard wouldn’t do that to me but that insecurity and self-consciousness was still there, lurking in the back of my messed up head, knowing at my brain. “Why are you sorry, Frank?” He came back at me with a forceful question. Gerard knew exactly what was wrong. But he didn’t want to focus on that, despite that fact, I couldn’t exactly hold back what I was feeling. I wanted to talk to him about it, maybe have him give me advice. That is what he’s really here for – to help me, even if he has experience or not. Either way he was doing a hell of a job.
“Why are you so sad all the time?” He asked me. His olive colored eyes beamed and burned my own. I needed to blink but didn’t want to; I couldn’t stop looking at him. Gerard didn’t give me time to say anything so he ended up answering his own question, “Because you’re tired, Frank.” I looked at him coyly, I wasn’t actually that tired. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, or the night before that. I was rather chipper compared to my usual mood. He noticed the thought in my face, he shook his hand in the air, “No, no, not that kind of tired!” His hand motions seemed to shoo my previous assumption away leaving me naked and stupid. “You’re tired of not knowing.” The muscles all over my body tensed. That is what was happening. I thought we had already established that, though. I wasn’t really looking to re-live past conversations, but it Gerard found it necessary then so did I.
“You’ve bee waiting for so long and trying so hard. We’re a lot alike, Frank. You might not see it now, but you will. Someday.” I shivered when he said that last word. The crisp sound of it fresh out of his mouth pulled me into his aura of artistic sauntering through his own mind. Someday everything would be better, someday things would make sense, someday I could be who I wanted to be without hiding in a shell which blocked me from all other things, someday – someday things will change, and someday I will be happy.
…
Somehow Gerard and I ended up touching each other and breathing rapidly on the couch. Our bodies mingled together. His foot managed to dip into the brown paint can. I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw him lift his leg and dart his eyes back to look without breaking his mouth from mine. I for one had to take a break. I didn’t have enough breath in me to laugh and kiss him at the same time.
We hadn’t discussed the “plan” yet. I really hated calling it that but honestly I had no other name for it. It was only the beginning, I knew that for sure. But start to finish, weren’t we going to talk about it? Didn’t we have to talk about it? Gerard wasn’t a huge communicator for lack of better words, but this was still a big fuckin’ deal. At least, to me it is. Gerard cared and I could tell in the way he brushed his fingers up, down, and all around. It was clear he wasn’t doing this to take advantage of the slightly younger man who needed a reality check, he was doing it, feeling this, because that’s what he does. He feels things and let’s himself explore the world with his sensations. I could tell he had practice with what he was doing. Nothing more had happened but kissing and the occasional flare of passion that would drive the both of us crazy and we would go a little overboard, but that was okay. I had no experience whatsoever. I wasn’t planning on telling Gerard this. I didn’t feel like I had to. My motto, since the fifth grade, has remained to be: Only tell as much as you have to.
But with Gerard, it was like I wanted to tell him everything. I wasn’t afraid to do it either. Well, that was kind of a lie, but I felt a little more comfortable with the idea of telling him rather than my own mother. My hands were sliding down his sides. I didn’t recall how we got into the position we were in: me leaning on the one arm rest for support and Gerard slinking his way on top of me. It was an awkward stance I didn’t notice until I felt his body weight. I groaned as I felt him. It all was so good, so right. But as I always knew, there was more to life than just sex, there was more to life than just embracing each other until we were both too exhausted to go on any further. In the few days of knowing Gerard I had grown accustomed to his beauty and mystery. I didn’t want it to disappear. Getting up in the morning wasn’t so hard anymore. Before, they were just days slinking by like everything else. But now, there is a purpose. Those days no longer seem like punishments. They’re opportunities to appreciate what I have in life. And what I have in life, is love.
