Omorphi (62 page)

Christy’s eyes moved to Rob. “This is okay?”

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to paint what you want to paint, Christy.”

Christy turned to Michael.

“You don’t, babe. It’s your art.”

“It must be the true story, no?”

Michael put an arm around Christy and kissed the side of his head. “Sure, but it’s your story. Not anyone else’s.”

Christy’s face crumbled. “My mind, it is not good sometimes. I have the pictures… but sometimes I have blank spaces.”

Rob leaned back in the chair, sage in his demeanor. “Christy, everyone’s mind sees things differently. If you were to question four people after the same car accident, they would all give you a different perspective on what happened. Simply paint what’s on your mind.”

Christy eyed Rob intently, and an unyielding determination set in. “I can do this.”

“Terrific.”

Inspired by the idea, Christy began to talk. “Okay, first we must review the paintings I did to see what I have missed, so I will correct them. Then I will make them from the time I first remember but not the blood. Then…. What of the blank spaces?”

“Leave them empty,” Michael said quickly.

“What?”

“Leave them empty.”

“You cannot have a painting with the blank space.”

“Why not?”

Now Christy looked at him, his odd, one-brow frown furrowing his forehead. “This would be an incomplete painting. You cannot do this.”

“Sure you can. It’ll be an entirely new art form, and it’ll do exactly what you need done for the police.”

Christy turned to Rob.

“Sounds good to me.”

Christy’s brain ratcheted, filling with ideas. “Okay. I need the high chair. I will not be able to stand for a long time. I will need watercolor paint. I will need the India ink and the brushes, pens, and canvas.”

Michael reached for his phone and speed-dialed Jake again. “Bro, where are you…? Okay, you know that art store down on Main…? No, that’s a crafts store. I mean the fine arts store…. Yeah, that one. Can you pick up watercolor paint, every color you can find with the right kinds of brushes, India ink with the right kind of pens, and canvases for those…? Okay, and we need a stool… yeah, he can’t stand on his leg for long… yeah, that’ll do…. Hang on.” He turned to Christy. “What else?”

Christy chewed his lower lip as he concentrated. “I need the paper for the charcoal.”

“Add charcoal pencils and paper.”

“Anything else?”

“An eraser. The gray one.”

“Gray eraser for the pencils.” Michael waited while Christy gnawed his lower lip.

“Glitter.”

Okay, that’s weird.
Then Michael thought of Christy’s painting for the poem “A Dream Within a Dream.” “Glitter, every color you can find,” he said into the phone.

“Rob, can I do the bas-relief?”

“You can do whatever you like, Christy.”

“Okay, ask for the papier-mâché, the plaster of paris, and the clay. And I must have a Dremel.”

“A what?”

“It is a tool to grind things.”

“Okay, Jake, we need papier-mâché, plaster of paris, clay, and a Dremel…. He says it’s a grinding tool.” He turned back to Christy. “Anything else?”

“A digital camera.”

“A digital camera…. Still or video?”

“Both.”

“Both,” Michael repeated.

“I must have the wig with hair like me.”

When inspired….
“And a wig like Christy’s hair. Anything else?”

“This is good.”

“That’s it…. Yep…. No, we decided that Christy’s statement for the police will be done in an art form…. I’m serious….” He waited while Jake spoke with Sophia.

“Sophia’s damn near jumping out of her skin with happiness!” Jake shouted into the phone.

Michael smiled. “Good. Thanks, bro. See you in another hour or so.” He hung up. Christy’s eyes had filled with enumerable ideas for his art to come. Michael turned to Rob and winked.

“We must change the room,” Christy murmured.

“What room?” Rob asked.

“Upstairs.”

“We can do that tomorrow morning,” Michael said.

Christy turned to Michael. “Will you help with this?”

Michael kissed his forehead. “I’m all over it, babe.”

A
LIGHT
knock sounded at the door as Michael rubbed Christy’s back while he slept. Rising from the bed slowly so as not to disturb Christy, he went and answered it. “Hey, Jerry.”

“Hi. Rob said Christy might be sleeping.”

“He is, but you can come in if you want to.”

“Is he okay?”

Michael smiled and gestured Jerry in. “Better than okay.”

Jerry entered the cabin quietly. “I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Just be quiet.”

Jerry took a seat on the couch and looked over at a sleeping Christy. Michael took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.

“How do you do it?”

“What?”

“Take care of Christy.”

Michael’s brow furrowed for a brief moment. “It’s not hard.”
Mostly
.

Jerry’s purple glasses slipped down his nose, and he pushed them up again. “Rob told me about the kids here. They’re rough around the edges, man.”

“Christy isn’t. He’s overly soft around the edges.”

“Yeah, Rob kinda said that. Man, I didn’t know Christy had… had such a bad life. Kinda makes me feel like a crybaby.”

Michael smiled. “Don’t. Everyone has problems.”

“You don’t.”

Michael’s smile slipped. “I have some.”

“Like what? Your parents like you, you have good grades at school, and lots of friends, you’re captain of the track team, and you have a best friend like Jake.”

Michael smiled again. “I do, but that leads to other problems, like jealousy and Jason hating me for it.”

“Seriously? That’s what he’s so pissed off about?”

“That’s what Jake thinks.”

“Man, that sucks.”

“How are you really doing, Jerry?”

Jerry shrugged. “It’s kinda weird being here, but I like it so far. I mean, it’s only been an afternoon. I just don’t understand how my dad could send me to one of those places.”

“It’s harsh, little dude, I’ll say that.”

“Rob spoke with my dad. He says everything’s sort of cool with my dad, but he said my sister can’t see me.”

“You close with your sister?”

Jerry shrugged again. “Not really. Actually, I kind of hate her, but I still want to see her.”

Michael arched a brow. “Maybe give it some time?”

“Yeah, that’s what Rob said. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When did you know you were gay?”

Michael laughed softly. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Really? I thought I was the only one.”

“Definitely not.”

“Do you think if I talk to the shrink it’s going to change me?”

Michael stifled a smile at the question. “Not too long ago I asked Jake if the right girl came along, if he thought I’d change. He looked at me like I was a freak and said my spots would never change.”

Jerry laughed quietly. “Okay, so if I have to talk to this shrink, I’ll be okay? I’m not going to change?”

“You’ll still be you. Maybe a little wiser, but you’ll still be you.”

Jerry breathed a sigh of relief and threw himself back on the couch. “Thank God. I was afraid a tail and horns might sprout on contact.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you’re good, man.”

M
ICHAEL
and Jerry started as Jake and Sophia came through the door laughing, their arms full of shopping bags. Security followed, their arms overflowing with even more bags.

“Shhh!” Michael cautioned.

“Oh, sorry,” Sophia whispered. “He is asleep?”

Michael rose to help with the bags. “Yeah, he’s exhausted.”

“Aw.” She pouted as she set the bags along the wall by the door. Jake set his load of bags down and security followed suit.

“Jesus, Jake, it looks like you bought out the store,” Michael said quietly.

“I think we bought out about four stores. This woman can shop,” he said equally as quietly.

Sophia turned and stuck a very childish tongue out at Jake before going to Christy and gently petting his hair. “He looks good, Michael,” she complimented. “You washed his hair, and he has beautiful new clothes.”

Michael smiled at her appreciatively. “Thanks, Sophia. He’s doing better.”

“How’s your day been?” Jake asked as he lined more bags against the wall and took the rest of the bags from the guards’ hands.

“Tough, but in a good way. How ’bout you?”

Jake smiled wider than Michael had ever seen in his life. “Epic. I developed all kinds of new feelings about shopping.” He thanked the guards and closed the door, then turned and noticed Jerry on the couch. “Hey, Jerry. Why are you here? I mean, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”

Michael motioned for Jerry to explain.

Jerry was suddenly shy and awkward. “My dad didn’t want me to come home.”

Jake looked to Michael for elaboration.

“His dad wanted to send him to a conversion therapy place.”

Jake tucked his chin in disbelief. “Are you serious? I thought that crap went out with the glacial period.”

“It didn’t start until sometime around the 1920s. Way after the Pleistocene era. You sure you’re going to be okay at Columbia, bro?”

“How do you know crap like that?”

“Trivial Pursuit. And it was a narrow save for Jerry. Rob’s going to let him stay here until he starts NYU in August.”

“That’s cool. Call me stupid, I don’t mind, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen conversion therapy mentioned in a Trivial Pursuit question.”

Jerry was in stitches. “Not!” He laughed so hard he rolled over and whacked his cast on the edge of the coffee table.

“Probably not. Easy, little dude, you might break something.” Michael watched Sophia bring Christy into her arms and rock him. She murmured softly, and he woke slowly. Michael wanted to tell her not to wake him but saw how happy he was when he saw her. A soft knock sounded at the door, and Jake turned to open it. “Check the peephole first,” Michael cautioned.

Jake looked out and swung the door open. Their food was served.

They spent the remainder of the evening eating, laughing, and opening the many bags of purchases. It was nothing short of a spring name day for Christy, exactly as Michael wanted things to be for the rest of Christy’s life.

J
AKE
and Michael made it home around eleven. They entered the house and heard Bobbie’s raised voice coming from the parlor off the foyer. They exchanged worried looks. “Not good,” Michael whispered.

Jake knocked softly before entering. Nero and Anna sat in two upright chairs while Michael’s parents sat on a couch, facing two women who sat across from them on another couch. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Looks like you guys are having a board meeting.” Michael tried to make light.

Mac stood and turned to Michael. His expression was dour, pained. “Michael, Jake, this is Ms. Whitman and her partner, Ms. Simmons.”

Anger zinged up Michael’s spine.
What the hell is Jason’s mother doing here?
“Ah, okay, nice to meet you.”

Jake remained silent and shot an irritated look at Nero.

“Have a seat, Jacob, Michael,” Nero intoned. Michael sat next to his mom and noticed that she held a glass of some brown alcohol in her shaking hands. Jake took a seat on the other side of Mac.

“Ms. Whitman has come here to offer her apologies for Jason’s behavior. She has also requested that we speak with the district attorney. She doesn’t want an attempted murder charge to be levied against Jason when he’s apprehended,” Nero explained.

Michael couldn’t help it. He gaped at Nero, then turned his gaping mouth on the woman who sat directly across from him.
She couldn’t be freakin’ serious!
He cleared his throat and made little effort to hide his fury. “Jason threatened to shoot me, Mom, and Christy at a restaurant. Jason bombed my car. If security hadn’t called and told me to go home with Jake, Christy and I would be dead. Jason threw a Molotov cocktail through Christy’s window and shot me. Christy just spent a week in the hospital with second-degree burns. Jason has tried to kill us three times.” Michael put an arm around his mom and one-arm hugged her. “If you know where Jason is, you better tell the police. I think it’s time for you to leave. You’re upsetting my mom.”

Ms. Whitman burst into tears. “You don’t understand. It’s not his fault!”

“Why isn’t it?”

“He’s mentally ill!”

“As of when?”

“Obviously, now! His mind isn’t right!”

Michael’s eyes narrowed on her. “What do you think made him mentally ill?”

“He’s angry at me, for what I’ve done.”

“And how did that make him mentally ill?”

“He feels abandoned, betrayed, angry, sad.” She wept.

“I haven’t heard anything that would make him mentally ill.”

“He is!”

“He isn’t. He’s prejudiced, spoiled, jealous, mean, and he’s angry at the world and taking it out on me, Christy, my family, Jake and his family, and Gavin and Noah and their families. The list is probably growing as we speak.”

“He’s like his father!”

“Great! I’m like my—well, I don’t know which of my parents I’m more like. But, look, I don’t know what rules you have in your house, but in this house, or, I mean my house, I’m held responsible for every one of my decisions and actions. My parents would fry my ass if I even thought about doing half the shit Jason has done. One of the girls at school calls him a universal hater. Give him anything, and he’ll find a way to hate it. Jason has no boundaries and is a bully! That’s exactly what he is. So, no, we’re not talking to the DA. Now, go. My mom’s already having a hard enough time over all this.”

Michael wasn’t yelling, but his voice had risen to an unacceptable level.
Too bad.
The woman needed to leave.

“Jacob, do you have anything to add?”

Jacob met his dad’s dark eyes for a long moment before turning to Jason’s mom. “Jason is jealous of everything Michael is and has, and Michael is right. Jason being like his father has nothing to do with it. Jason made his choices. If the top of Michael’s car had landed six inches further up on my dad’s car, I could be dead too. I’m sorry, Ms. Whitman, but Jason is dangerous and needs to be locked up.”