Page 69 of Refraction

He handed her the drink menu in trade. “No. And it’s not like I’ve asked him. I don’t text him back.” He’d thought about it, sending pictures of the city, the subway, the library. He’d also thought about saying hello and asking about the pictures, but he hadn’t done that either. “But I miss him.”

“I do too.” She offered him a sad little smile, then looked at the menu. “I’m going to get a vodka lemonade, I think.”

“Ooh. Make that two.” He reached over and took her hand. “Marge, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I can say. I asked him for something I needed that he said he couldn’t give me, and there was no compromise. That was just….” He sighed. “It’s still pretty raw, Marge, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain. He told me it was his fault. I went to the studio and closed up for him after he went home. I haven’t spoken to him since that morning. I was just glad to see you, hmm? You look good.”

Calvin had thought of it as Tucker’s fault at first too. And then sometimes he didn’t think it was about anyone’s fault; it just was what it was. But he mostly blamed himself for being neurotic and irrational and sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong. But honestly? Neurotic was kind of hardwired in him, and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

“Thank you. I’ve been working so much I really have to take care of myself so I don’t burn out, you know? Parts of my work are twenty-four seven.” He didn’t go out. He didn’t stay up late. He hadn’t smoked anything with Timmy since that week after Tucker left. He just worked and slept. “You look great. I love the scarf.”

“Thank you. I love purple. It makes my eyes shine.” She beamed, winked over, her eye shadow sparkling.

“It really does.” Marge didn’t share any blood with Tucker, he knew, but something about her mannerisms and the look in her eyes reminded him of Tucker anyway.

“Oh.” He picked up his drink as soon as it arrived at the table. “Are you setting up another show anywhere for Tucker?”

She shook her head, her earrings jingling. “Not for a while. I have to wait for Tuck to paint a new series, and he hasn’t sent me any images.”

“Oh, right. He’s got to be working, though, don’t you think? I mean, he has to work.” That had been his point about those damn portraits of him, after all, and even before that, Calvin had seen firsthand a little of how driven he could be. Speaking of…. “What about the paintings he did here?”

“He destroyed the new ones. All of them.” She sighed softly, shook her head, and took a deep drink. “I’m sure he’s working. He’s not dead. He’s just not talking right now.”

What?“All of them? Everything?”

“Apparently. We had one hell of a mess to clean up.”

Tucker didn’t want any reminders of his work here in the city. Maybe not of the city at all. That gave Calvin some clarity, didn’t it? And it explained the texts too. Life in Texas was better. He was destroying more than just paintings.

Calvin shook his head. “Well, that’s pretty telling, huh? Screw him.”

“It is, I suppose. He destroyed a month’s worth of work because he was….” Marge stopped, took a deep breath, and pressed her lips together like she was collecting her thoughts. “Believe me, kiddo. He’s punishing himself more thoroughly than any ill wishes could. I’ll ask him not to bother you anymore.”

“No. Thank you, Marge. I’d prefer you didn’t. I’m an adult. He’s an adult. It’s possible neither of us is acting like one just now, but that’s on us. This will work out however it does. The last thing we said to each other was ‘I love you.’ It’s really fragile, and I’d just rather let it breathe.”

“Fair enough. Just… he’s a good man, kiddo, and I know he wanted to be what you needed. He did his best.”

“I know, Marge. Believe me, I know him. I just had a hard time accepting his priorities. Or… his compulsions. There’s this point where even his imagination hits a roadblock. I’m not sure I’d ever have been able to compete.” But it wasn’t a competition. He’d started to realize that. Things would have to coexist.

“I understand. It’s like Tuck says, there’s only so long he can pretend to be like everyone else. A foolish old woman can be excused for hoping her favorite guy got his happily ever after, right?” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things. What excitement do you have planned for the summer?”

They had thehappy. Just not theever after. “Well, as long as you’re asking.” He leaned across the table like he was telling her a secret. “I’m waiting to hear about a huge shoot—a centerfold ad—for Calvin Klein.” There’d been some kind of production delay, but Michael said he was supposed to hear something next week. “Soon. Next week.”

“Oh, how exciting!” She beamed at him. “That’s quite a coup. Good for you. That’s fabulous. Good luck.”

“Thank you. My agent is super optimistic.” When he got it, he was going to text Tucker. He’d already decided Tucker needed to know. Maybe a picture of his contract or something. “That would start shooting right away, so I’d have a busy summer.”

“That’s amazing news. Seriously. I wish you all the best.” She lifted her glass. “Cheers.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her and clinked glasses. No wonder Tucker loved her so much. She had a heart as big as the city itself.

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