Sunflowers (Tournesols) II 25 страница

"Goodbye apartment," Gerard said quietly. He reached out his hand to me and pulled me up from my crumpled position on the floor. We gathered our things and headed towards the door. He repeated: "Goodbye apartment, and, as ever, thank you."

He locked the door, slipped the key under it in the envelope the new company had given us, and then we walked down to join the rest of our caravan and go towards our new home. As soon as we stepped outside and loaded the last bit of our stuff into the cars, Vivian and Mikey attacked us with hugs. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Callie and Dean hug one another, feeling left out. I wondered in the back of my mind if everyone had heard us yelling up there and were comforting us. But no, I realized they were mourning too. They had lived significant parts of their lives in those apartment walls as well, and this was their turn to say goodbye, in a whisper instead of a yell.

Gerard and I got in the van with Vivian; Callie and Dean had been sent home, and we had thanked them once again. As Vivian drove us to her house, we watched our apartment fade into the distance. As she turned the corner, we turned out bodies, and faced the facts. Vivian pulled into her driveway, and stated, "Welcome home, boys, now let's get you set up."

After a large lunch, we spent the rest of the day setting up. Mikey took off after his vehicle was no longer needed, saying that Alexa needed to go out on a business call for the afternoon. Mikey said he would be by as soon as he could though, and Vivian welcomed him whenever he wanted. She ordered us some pizzas, and we set to work. Cassandra was at a piano lesson, and then heading to a friend's house, but would be back for dinner. The mention of the friend's house made me suddenly pay attention, away from my own issues. I wondered if it was the same friend she had told me about before, and if their romance had started to pick up. It made me smile, and it was a relief not having to think about myself for a while. I made a vow to ask her about it when I saw her that night.

Since where we were living was pretty much one big room in Vivian's basement, with a workroom to one side, and a bathroom to the other, we had a hard time figuring out where the bed was going to go. We couldn't just put it in the middle of the room again. Even though that had been fun, I missed sleeping in an actual bed, and not just on a mattress. Gerard seemed to as well, because he was putting together the frame again. We had decided collectively that the room with the door was going to be our art space. I knew it was impossible to have a dark room, but a room with a door and privacy was nice. It would work well for both of us when we wanted to just be alone with our art. With that decided, and the bathroom space already delegated, it still left the bed and the couch - our biggest pieces of furniture - in the middle of everything. From the way the stairs were positioned, Vivian could easily come downstairs and see us in bed. She had promised to announce herself before she came down, but it was her house; it seemed ridiculous that she would have to say when she was coming or going. We eventually decided on the far corner for the bed which meant we could only get in on one side and would have to crawl over one another.

"Fine with me," Gerard joked, and I was glad that we had gotten back to that stage. The couch went opposite the bed, and the bookshelf against it, but we didn't bother putting our books away. We were hoping, of course, that we wouldn't be here long, and we didn't need the books like we needed our art supplies. Kitchen stuff also stayed packed away and in the corner with the bookshelf, and clothing was taken out of bags and put on the shelf, folded, since we had no closet space.

"It's not much," Vivian told us when she came down with drinks and noticed our new invention of the shelf-closest space. "But it's something for now. When we have a better idea of your financial situation, I can help you get a new place. I know some people in real estate. They always want a goddamn painting for their openings and I usually give them some landscape the grad students leave behind and they always ooh and aah over it. Yuppies love to pretend that they're into real artists, especially local ones. The real estate agents now think I'm a real curator," Vivian laughed.

"Thank you, Vivian," Gerard stated sincerely. He was organizing his things next to the bedside table, which was really a TV stand that he never used. "This room is perfect, just like you. This is all so great."

She smiled and nodded, not sure what else to say. "I'll call you when dinner is ready, but it's looking like you have a few hours to yourself. Use them wisely." She headed back up the stairs, and I had no idea if her tone of voice was an invitation letting us know that it was okay if we had sex, that she wouldn't be watching or coming down anytime soon, but I didn't know or care. I was too tired and the day already felt so long. Gerard was lying down on the bed, and I walked over to him and crawled over to get to my side.

I turned on my side and he rubbed my back. We began to spoon like the night before, only it was different. Different time, different place, but we - I tried to tell myself - we were the same. We were one body, one heart, one soul. I turned over and we pressed our chests together. We didn't take off our clothes, but we got as close as we could to one another. We held each other like this, just breathing, until Vivian said it was time for dinner. It had all passed by in a blink, and my ears were still ringing.

Cassandra was already at the table, and she smiled when we came up the stairs. It threw me; I think it was the first time I had really seen her smile, and I didn't know how to interpret it. Had her mother told her to be on good behaviour? It didn't seem like Cassandra's style to listen to her mother for an arbitrary reason like that, and besides, I could see her eyes change as she smiled. This was genuine, real. I wondered vaguely if it had anything to do with her friend. Before I could ask, though, she barraged us with questions about our afternoon. Her mother seemed pleased this was going on. Vivian was still in the middle of cooking and dishing out the food as we came up the stairs, and regarded Cassandra with a nod as she stirred the pot of pasta.

"What's it like moving all of your stuff? Is it similar to death? I mean, in the sense that your life flashes before your eyes?" she asked, with absolutely no spite. She was genuinely curious, and quite apt with her observation. Gerard was struck by it the most, after complimenting her and noting the influence of Wagner, he ran with the analogy as well.

"Yes, exactly right. It is very much like a death and Frank and I are still in mourning."

"Hence all the black?" Cassandra asked. "Well, except you, Frank. But I guess that makes sense. You didn't live there as long."

I was feeling a bit sensitive, and Cassandra had this way with her words that made them dig in. I didn't like my lease there to just seem like nothing in comparison to Gerard. Sure, I had not been there for decades like the artist, but my memoires made the place in my mind. I tried to explain that to Cassandra, but she shrugged her shoulders.

"It shouldn't really be a big deal at all, moving, if all of your memories from that place are in your head. Keep them alive that way. The only real hassle is the actual moving part, which is now complete."

Vivian swooped in eloquently at this point. She saw things were getting a bit tense and then decided to throw a piece of spaghetti at the wall. It shot right through the path between Cassandra and I on opposite sides of the table, making us gasp, and then stuck to the cream coloured walls.

"It's ready!" Vivian declared and raised her arms, as if she had just shot a goal instead of thrown food. "Let's eat!"

When we all recovered from the shock, we were rounded up to set the table and get things ready. Gerard oohed and aahed over the food, trying to keep the flow of compliments going for his friend that was now his means of food and shelter, but Vivian waved her hand in the air.

"Come, now. It's been a bit of a disgrace of Italian cooking today," Vivian informed us, referring to the canned tomato sauce and mocking her own skills in the kitchen. She had prepared spaghetti with sauce and some cooked vegetables on the side. Like the pizzas for lunch, it was another quick dinner that was just meant to stop our stomachs from caving in. After going up and down stairs several different times today, we needed food just to take the flight down to where we would be sleeping for the night.

"Nonsense," Gerard insisted. "Anything Italian, even if from a can or the store, is actually far better than most French cuisine."

"Explain yourself. I thought you'd live and die in Paris, even if it was only in your mind."

Gerard smiled, and ate a small vegetable from the side dish that Vivian had prepared. "Not so much anymore, Vivian. I love Paris, I love French cuisine, but after a while I began to realize that boiled pig is a main feature in most meals. Aside from the croissants, I merely loved eating out for the view, the ambiance. And well, now I have a much better ambiance here, and much, much better food. Thank you, Vivian. I really mean this."

She batted him off again and we all sat down, but I saw the way that Vivian looked at him, and then looked at all of us. She took his comment to heart. The cooking, while it was a nice ego boost for her, didn't really matter. It was the ambiance. The shadow of economic dependency disappeared and was replaced by that ambiance. I knew what Gerard meant about that feeling in Paris, and it was as fleeting as those croissants. You consumed, and then it was gone. What remained was something else; the enchantment of that place, like our apartment, had to do with him. And here, with Vivian and Cassandra, a new enchantment was forming.

But the food wasn't to be undermined. I asked for seconds and nearly asked for thirds, but held off and had some bread instead. I felt like the pot was never-ending and as if the food in Vivian's house was always there. Every time we had been here, the cupboards and fridge were always full, and shook with weight when we opened the doors. I marvelled at that. Anytime I had gone shopping, even before the scare with Gerard, I had just bought what I needed (and what fit into a backpack) and then had to go back every week. If Vivian wanted to she could probably not shop for weeks and be fine. It was a wonder. In some ways, I felt like I was back at my parents house, but I never let that thought sink in too deeply. There was something different about Vivian's kitchen and the whole layout of the house that made me not want to have those comparisons.

Cassandra was well behaved though the entire meal. It sounds wrong, though, equating her previous behaviour with something wrong. She had just been brutally honest about Gerard and those seven years in waiting. Her honest quality still stuck with her this evening and she was still as modest and proper as ever. She was wearing a different combination of muted colours with a flare of classic reservation, and was still making remarks with an insight that was far too advanced for her age. But she was sharing those insights with everyone at the table and not excluding Gerard. She even addressed him specifically a few times and asked him about art and who his favourite painters were. He told her it was an impossible question to answer, because there was so much variation in the world, that it would be like comparing a bird to a dinosaur and they were completely different species.

"Birds actually evolved from dinosaurs, though. The archaeopteryx was one of the earliest birds, some touted it as the missing link between the two species in the evolutionary chain. So it wouldn't be completely different, but yes, I understand what you are saying. I just hope that one day you actually do give me the name of at least a painting you enjoy so I can verify my own opinion of it as well."

Gerard nodded and took being corrected with a smile. "I will let you know, Cassandra. I am pretty tired right now, so that everything is turning into a surrealist print in my mind."

Cassandra took a pen out of seemingly nowhere and wrote on one of the paper napkins at the table "surrealist" and underlined it a few times. I chuckled to myself. Was she treating us now as a research project? Is that why she was suddenly turning her attention towards us and allowing us into her life?

"Thanks so much for dinner, Vivian, but I think I'm going to head to bed soon. The day has been a long one, and thank you so much for all of your help." Gerard leaned across the table and took Vivian's hand. She blushed and tried to ignore his praise, but he leaned down as she got up and kissed her on the forehead. Together, they began to take their dishes away. He whispered in her ear at one point when they got to the sink, and she just laughed and playfully smacked his arm. Cassandra and I got up, and she shoved her napkin into the pocket of her skirt. She was polite and let me pass before her, and then followed behind the trail. I got to Vivian and Gerard just to hear the tail end of their conversation and be pulled in.

"That reminds me," Viv stated. "If you smoke - which is totally okay - please do it outside. I know it's like negative nine hundred degrees now, but there are blankets by the backdoor you can take out with you if you want, and there are deck chairs there as well. I like my house smelling the way it is."

"And that reminds me," Gerard teased. "I quit smoking. It was too much of a hassle. And after today and those stairs, I'm glad I did it. Lungs are important, I've been told. I've been reading an article about that."

"Oh really? I suppose they are," she playfully quipped back. She didn't appear to be fazed at all by Gerard's sudden admission to quitting. She had known him since art school, and I would have imagined that entire time there was probably a cigarette permanently attached to him. It probably counted as a body part, it had been around him for so long. If so, Vivian handled the amputation well. Better than I had.

"Frank, is this true for you, too?"

I nodded my head, and she seemed even more impressed with my admission than Gerard's.

"Well, that's good. Great, actually. I won't have to worry about you stinking up my house." Then, turning her attention toward the sink full of dishes, she placed a hand to her forehead overdramatically and sighed. "But as for the state of my kitchen, that is another story."

"Don't worry, mom," Cassandra cut in. "We'll take care of it. Frank and I. Gerard needs to sleep and you can have a rest, too. I was the only one who didn't move house today, so it makes sense that I clean now."

And me? I thought. I moved house. Why was I being dragged into cleaning? But I didn't dare speak up; it was important for Vivian to rest as much as it was Gerard. I felt like we were already being too much of a burden on her.

"Well, in that case, goodnight you two," she said and went around hugging both Cassandra and myself. I gave into the hug, although somewhat awkwardly, then was amused to see Cassandra's body stay as stiff as a board when she hugged her own mother. Vivian and Gerard went out of the room, hand in hand, and parted with another hug and kiss on the cheek before taking different staircases for different parts of the house.

"Excellent," Cassandra said. "What would you prefer, washing or drying?"

"Neither," I quipped, but then worrying about her disapproval, I chose washing. I began to run the water and put soap on the sponge, and was just getting to work when Cassandra broke the silence.

"So, I just wanted you to be aware that I am excited that you're living here. Both of you."

"I could tell, but why? You seemed very...." I didn't know how to describe her behaviour without offending her.

"Hostile? Offensive? Cat-like? Don't worry, Frank. I get it all the time. I do go to high school, after all. I'm called a bitch at least once a day. I prefer honest and tactile, but not everyone sees that. I was rather hostile the last time you were here, but that was mostly because I didn't appreciate the power dynamics that were going on. Now things are better."

"How so?"

"Well, now you two aren't this mystical couple that my mother adores and won't shut up about. You're not the world famous artists anymore. You're just Gerard and Frank. You live here now. And you know, you're kind of like my siblings."

I could hear her voice change with the last part. It was a different type of honesty, one that was not accessed through critical thinking. She was an only child, just like me, and I remembered how much in high school it would have been easier if I had had an older sibling to guide me through things. I felt honoured that she thought this way about me, about us.

"Is Gerard a sibling too, or are we all children in this weird parental relationship?" I asked, half joking, but then remembering the affection that Viv and Gerard shared between one another I re-evaluated my claim.

"No, he's definitely a sibling too. Definitely. If anything he's younger than you in terms of growth in this family. I mean, he's been absent for seven years. I think I know you better."

I smiled. "So I'm the oldest? Nice. I've never been the older brother." I began to play out all these too perfect cinematic scenes in my head between Cassandra and myself, thinking about how we would work through problems from her high school, how I would advise her more on her relationships, and so on and so forth. My thinking reminded me about the dilemma she had asked me about before, and I was about to pursue the girlfriend question when she cut off my thoughts.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're not the older sibling. I am."

"How do you figure that? I'm nearly ten years older than you."

"But I was here first. And I've lived here all my life. You two are newborns, twins, and you came out first. You're both still learning how to walk in here, and I've been here all my life. Make sense?"

I wanted to argue with her, perhaps because I had just gotten used to having my age be what it was and feel adult in my own body, and now I was reduced to an infant again. At least this time, in this scheme, Gerard was the same as me and I was even older. That was certainly a new feeling, and a good one at that. I nodded to Cassandra and my dreams of giving her the good older brotherly advice vanished.

Even though I despised the fact that I was now younger and she was my go-to person, I really liked having her there with me. As I was washing the dishes, I'd put them on the rack next to the sink and she would swoop in with a towel and dry them, and then put them where they belonged. She was efficient and got things done, although she annoyed me a few times when she dried a dish and put it back in the to-clean pile because I had missed a speck of sauce. She was thorough, meticulous, and her maturity had skyrocketed. I wondered what Vivian had done in order to get Cassandra to be a practically full-functioning adult at such a young age, and I partly wondered if it was going to be a part of my new growth regime now that I was under her care.

"You have not asked about the incident I told you about from before," Cassandra cut in. "There have been developments. Would you like to hear them?"

I smiled. "I didn't know younger siblings were allowed to ask of their old sister's romantic life."

"Ugh, please don't call it a 'romantic' life. Such a euphemism. Call it my sex life, if anything. And yes, you are allowed to ask, although usually it's probably better if I bring it up."

I nodded, and when she was still quiet for a while in her drying duties, I encouraged her. "Go on. Tell me about your sex life."

"Well, it exists now," she stated calmly. "I think that was the most accomplishing matter. Got that whole inexperience thing out of the way."

"Good. Was it all you expected it to be?"

She considered this for awhile. "I had no good examples to go with, you know, aside from internet porn. I pretty much went in with no realistic knowledge base and we both made it up as we went along. That's not the way I'm used to working, but I did enjoy it."

I smiled. I hoped Vivian was actually in bed; not because I feared for Cassandra, but more so that I feared for myself. It was a little awkward talking to her about her sex life considering she was so much younger than me, but it was easy to forget. She had also established this relationship between us, as siblings, and that seemed impenetrable, though I was still a newborn.

"Would you like any advice from what I've learned?" she offered, quite seriously. "I was successful with her, but she wasn't so much with me. It was good, but, you know, no final ending."

Hearing her use euphemisms was hilarious. "It's probably nerves. Some of the girls I've been with their first time don't always, you know, finish, but not for a lack of trying. Sometimes there is too much pressure on them and they think they have to finish and then it just ends up stressing them out and it doesn't happen at all. Relax and give it time. Besides, sex isn't all about the orgasm."

She nodded. "Other women, you mean, Jasmine, right?"

"I, uh..." I started, but knowing that my utterance had already given me away. I didn't want to talk about Jasmine specifically and I thought I was being coy with not using her name and the non-descript term 'girls'. But I should have realized that Cassandra, my sister, would be far more forward. I tried anyway: "I've been with other women."

"I suppose," she considered this. "I should probably talk to Jasmine though. From her perspective, maybe she could help me out."

"And yet you don't want my advice? I'm your brother!" I teased her.

She touched my arm casually in a way to brush me off. It was the first time Cassandra and I had ever made physical contact with one another. "I told you, I was successful. I know what I'm doing. But maybe I'll ask Jasmine if you need any advice."

My mouth hung open. I couldn't believe she had gone there. She smiled at me, a little bit too wide and a bit too full of pride. I splashed sink water at her and she squealed, trying to get away. She used her dish towel to mop up the small dark spot on her green cardigan and then slowly walked back over to me.

"I suppose most older sisters would splash back, or go and tell mother, but I want you to know that I am diplomatic. A truce?" she held out her hand and, with a grin, I shook hers. My hand was wet and soapy, and she responded with an eye roll, but we were done mocking one another for now. We were also done with the dishes, too, and I grabbed the towel from her so I could wipe off my hands and the counter.

"It was nice talking to you, Frank," she said. "I will keep you updated."

I agreed, and then we said our goodnights and parted ways. She went down the hall to sleep in the room across from her mother, and I went down to my new basement room. Although there were still boxes everywhere, the couch looked funny against the wall, and the bookshelf was full of my clothing, I felt good coming down. I felt like I was actually coming home.

Gerard was on his newly claimed side of the bed and definitely not asleep yet. He had nestled into the corner, in order to avoid me climbing over him. I was somewhat disappointed; crawling over one another was one of the perks of having the bed where it was. I took off my clothing, leaving my boxers and t-shirt on as I got in. When I lifted the covers, I realized he was wearing PJ's. Not just the normal PJ’s of underwear (although for the most part, Gerard slept naked), but matching PJ’s. They were light blue, with a button-up top and a drawstring bottom. I didn't remember ever seeing him in something like this before, and it baffled me. Totally not something an artist would wear. Where were the paint stains? The artistic intent? Under the covers now, I adjusted to the height of the bed, which was also something new. I slid myself over to Gerard's side and touched his back tentatively to see if he was awake. He turned his body into my embrace, but didn't fully turn over.

"Hi Frank," he said with a raspy voice. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at him. His gray hair hung over the pillowcase and made a spider-like design, and his eyes were closed, making his face look more youthful in contrast with his hair. I leaned down and kissed his forehead for my greeting. This made him turn over onto his back, and he placed an arm around me. He kissed me on the mouth, and then we eventually turned our bodies towards one another in the bed like we had been in the afternoon, only with more space between us. I tried to bridge the gap, but the way Gerard's knees were positioned wouldn't let me. While my eyes were wide awake and I was somewhat amorous from the conversation with Cassandra, his eyes were closed and he looked completely passive.

I ran my fingers down the front of his shirt, touching the buttons. "Matching PJ’s. I never thought I'd see the day."

He grunted, "Not our house, Frank. Can't do whatever we want exactly. I don't want to wander around naked and run into Cassandra."

I smiled. Somehow I didn't think that would ever happen, or that she'd mind. She'd probably discuss with him the benefits of being circumcised, she was that forward.

"But we're in bed now. I think..." I whispered, trying to add allure to my voice. I slipped my finger into one of the spaces between buttons and pulled myself closer to him. I kissed him, and though he kissed back, he seemed pretty determined on making it chaste.

"I think...." I repeated, hoping he would catch on and we could just go from there. It always felt weird articulating my desires out loud. I was getting really good at nonverbal communication and positioning our bodies so that we would both get ideas and go with it, but for the most part, the only thing I said in bed that were actual words were yes or no, and I didn't say no that often. Right then, I didn't know how to finish my sentence of 'I think...' because I never really had to before. There were a ton of things that I wanted to do with Gerard, but they never sounded as good out loud. I pressed my lips against his and moved my body closer, so there was no space, in hope he'd get the message.

But Gerard had been sending me his signals too, and I wasn't reading them right. He finally did speak, breaking our kiss, and told me, "Frank, not now. Holding each other, okay, but I'm exhausted. We just moved. Some other time."

I nodded, but then realizing his eyes were closed, I concluded. "Yeah, okay, I know."

And that was it. I moved my body away from his a little bit, and as soon as he had enough room to turn over, he did. Within moments he was asleep and his heavy, not quite snoring breathing, began. I was left to stare up at the ceiling, feeling a bit stupid and dense and like I didn't understand things. I felt awful that I had read his signals wrong and was blinded by my own desires. I just wanted to feel more at home in this new place, I realized, and christen the bed in a way, but that would have to wait. That wasn't just my decision to make. I swallowed hard, feeling like such a jerk, and pressed my eyes shut. I wanted to fall asleep, but the move had made me more animated instead of more tired. After lying in bed for what felt like ages, I had to go to the bathroom. I got up and went, but instead of going back to the bed, I turned up the stairs and entered the dark kitchen.

I was careful as I crept around. I wasn't even sure what I was looking for. I opened the fridge out of habit, and then closed it again. The light was overwhelming, and so was the food inside. Food that never seemed to end, that seemed like the only permanence in the house. It used to be food and shelter that I had the most precarious relationship with, but the people around me were solid and strong. Now it felt as if the tables had completely turned. I was being too sensitive to Gerard's rejection, but the words that were said not by Jasmine, but by Cassandra, also stung me a bit too much.

I went to the screen door in the next room that led out into the backyard. It was a clear night and the moon hung in a half crescent in the sky like a scythe among the smog of Jersey. There was snow on Vivian's grass and salt spilled on the cement area where the deck chairs were placed. I noticed the blankets that were on the hook by the screen door and decided to go outside. I put on my shoes without socks, my coat, and wrapped a blanket around myself. I stepped into the cool air and any sign of sleep was shocked out of my system. In spite of shivering almost instantly and seeing my breath in front of my face as if I did still smoke, I stayed outside. I sat in the deck chair and just thought for awhile.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14