Page 42 of A Series of Rooms
They drove around for a while after that, aimless and relaxed. Liam pointed out landmarks from his life along the way: the fence that he’d crashed his car into a month after getting his license, the movie theater where he’d kissed a girl for the first (and last) time, the mall where he had learned,loudly and publicly, that Santa was just a man in a fake beard. Jonah hung on every word, endlessly charmed by his ability to tell a story.
Liam was a good driver. It was almost too true to character, in the most endearing way, how he followed the rules to a T.
“What?” he asked when Jonah’s laugh slipped out.
“Nothing.” Jonah was inexplicably unable to keep the smile off his face. “You’re just very... you.”
“Oh, great.”
“That’s far from a bad thing,” Jonah said.
Liam shot him a sidelong glance, as if searching for a punchline that wasn’t coming. “Thanks,” he finally said, looking back toward the road.
They pulled to a stop outside of a children’s playground. Even in the dark, Jonah could see the pristine condition in which everything was kept. Fresh, shiny coats of paint covered every piece of equipment. He had understood from the moment the train pulled into town that Liam’s hometown was a wealthy one, but this was a stark reminder of their differences in upbringings.
“When I was seventeen,” Liam began, pointing to a white fence along the back wall of the playground, “I won an art contest through the city, and I was selected to paint a mural there. I was so excited. I mean, at the time, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I never really talked much about my art, outside of the few classes I had in school, so I thought... This is my chance. Finally, people will seethat I’m not just the weird kid who follows Ben Baker and Nathan Scott around like a puppy. That I can actually do stuff, too.
“It was summer break. I spent every single day on it, staying past dark with a portable light I brought from home. The city supplied the paint, but I went out and spent my allowance on special brushes so I could make it just how I wanted it to look. I mean, if it was going to be a permanent fixture in the neighborhood, I had to make it good. I put everything I had into that mural.”
He paused, and Jonah felt a tight knot forming in his stomach.
“On the last day,” Liam continued, “I showed up to add the finishing touches, and the whole thing had been covered. Dried, splattered eggs. Buckets of paint that had just been thrown over it. And, because teenagers can never be creative, a few predictable words spray painted on. It wasn’t the first time I’d been on the receiving end of that kind of insult, but it was certainly the most public.”
“Liam. . .”
“Obviously, as you can see, they had to scrap the whole project; they hired people to paint over it the next day.” He gestured weakly to the white fence with a laugh. “They offered me the chance to start over if I wanted to, but I knew it would just happen again. I figured I’d save everyone the trouble. I didn’t realize how much it would affect me, but after that I sort of...” Liam shrugged, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I just kind of lost all motivation. Foranything. It was bad timing, because it was my junior year, when I was supposed to be putting together a portfolio for art school and getting a head start on applications and college tours, but I just... couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to look at any of it. I started missing shifts at work and skipping school to just lie in bed all day. My parents were angry, but I think, more than that, they were worried. And honestly, they had every right to be. I had all but given up.”
Jonah didn’t know what to say. He only knew that he wanted to erase that look from Liam’s face and never see it there again.
“Anyway,” Liam said after a moment. “That’s how I got where I am. I might have been in New York by now, actually doing something with my life, but instead I let a rough patch at seventeen throw my whole life off track.”
On that point, at least, Jonah could relate.
“Those kids are going to regret that,” Jonah said with conviction. “When you’re a big-shot artist in New York City, and they’re still just the losers who never left.”
Liam quirked a smile. “You have a lot of faith in this uphill battle of mine.”
“That’s a faith I can get behind,” he said. Then, “I’m sorry. I’m sure your mural was beautiful.”
Liam stared at the fence, as if he could still see the remnants of the art. “You know,” he said after a moment. “It was.”
Jonah followed his gaze, then let it slide over to the swing set, chewing on the idea that had occurred to him when theyfirst pulled up. Desperate to ease the weight that had settled over Liam, he said, “Do you want to swing?”
He turned back to Jonah, blinking. “It’s cold.”
“We have coats,” Jonah pointed out. For a moment he thought Liam would turn him down, but then he killed the ignition, reaching for the door handle.
“Fuck it. Let’s swing.”
Liam wasn’t wrong about it being cold. The chains on the swings were like blocks of ice under their palms, but they tugged their coat sleeves down and made it work. Jonah couldn’t bring himself to care about the temperatures, not when there was the promise of a warm car after, and a smile back on Liam’s face.
They settled into a mutual silence, falling in and out of sync as they swung. Only when the wind from his own momentum pulled cold tears from the corners of his eyes did Jonah kick to a stop. Liam followed his cue, but they didn’t leave. They floated for a while, bumping side to side on their swings with their toes planted on the rubber asphalt.
“I know what it’s like,” Jonah said, breaking the silence. “Feeling like an outsider in the place you grew up. Not exactly the same circumstances, but I know these places aren’t always kind to people like us. It was the same for me in Indiana.”
Liam’s eyes fell on him. “Indiana,” he repeated. “Is that where you’re from?”
Jonah nodded. “It was a little different for me. I wasn’t out for most of my life there. Not...” He pressed his lipstogether, grinding his teeth. “Not until the end. I knew how it would be received.”
