Page 68 of Refraction

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Every dayTuck sent a picture to Calvin. No words. He didn’t have anything to say. But he sent a bluebonnet, one of the roses, the pool. It was easy.

Tuck thought the only things that were easy these days was that daily picture and his work. He’d flown home and slept for three days, and then he’d gone back to work.

The barn was filled with paintings—ghosts and vicious, violent demons tearing things apart, biting and slicing, spilling bile like cheap wine. He spent hours exploring the expressions of agony, of emptiness.

Of shame.

When he wasn’t painting, he swam. One lap after another until the demons started looking over the edges of the pool, reminding him why he was still alive.

The work.

He sat at the edge of the pool, breathing hard, watching the sun rise. You couldn’t capture that on a phone. That you had to paint from memory.

Too bad he didn’t do landscapes.

He snapped a photo of a cardinal, bright red and fearless on one of his deck chairs. There. That was beautiful.

He had decided on some new rules, and the main one was only show the bright parts. The real stuff belonged on the canvas. Another one was about keeping the main gate locked so no one could get in. He wasn’t taking visitors.

Tucker sent the image to his lover, then smiled and stood up and headed toward the barn.

* * *

Spring wasfinally settlingon New York for good. Calvin left his apartment in his favorite floral leggings and a purple tunic and no fucking coat.Hallelujah.He still had his stompy boots on, though. He loved them all year long.

He’d just finished his volunteer thing at the library, and he was sitting on the library steps playing Angry Birds on his phone while he soaked up some sun.

People walked up and down the stairs, and when a pair of heels stopped in front of him, he blinked, and looked up into Tucker’s agent’s face.

“Marge.” Here on the library steps. God, he missed that tiger. He put his phone away and stood up. “Uh. Hi….” He wanted to hug her. He really, really wanted to hug her, but he didn’t, because maybe that would be weird under the circumstances, and maybe she was upset with him or something. But he really wanted to. Seeing her was the next best thing to seeing Tucker.

“Come here, kiddo.” She squashed him in a hug, like he was an old friend. “How are you doing? Working hard?”

“Like a fiend.”Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Good thing for him she was okay with lingering over their hug a few extra seconds too. God, every time he thought he was fine, he discovered he was so not fine. “Keeps me busy.”

“Good. Busy pays the bills. I’m going to grab a drink, something fruity and wonderful. Want to join me?”

“Yes, please. I would like that.” He offered her his arm.

“I would too.” She took his arm, letting him help her down the stairs.

“So, how have you been?”I’ve thought about calling you a dozen times at least.

“Busy. Trying to keep my artists in pennies. Have you talked to Tuck?”

“Talked to him, no. I get a text from him every day, though. Pictures.” Pretty things. Texas things. Things Tucker liked about being home, Calvin assumed. He really wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take them.

“Huh.” Her lips twisted, and she looked worried. “At least we know he’s taking pictures, then.”

“You haven’t talked to him?” Calvin steered her into a pub with some outdoor tables and handed her his phone. “Go ahead and scroll through them.”

“Ah, the pool. He had that put in his first year. Nothing of the house or work, though. He does have a grand view.”

“I’m not sure why he’s sending them. I don’t understand what he’s trying to say. I’m not even clear why he’s contacting me at all.” He picked up the cocktail menu and had a look. Something fruity did sound good, and he was working so much these days that he could afford a few frivolous calories.

“Do you want him to stop?” She handed him his phone back.

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