Page 21 of Paint Eater
“Here we are!” Jay proclaimed when they were both inside. Logan looked around, seeming to draw no conclusions from the mess, although he did peer curiously at the bottles of paint, packs of pens and coloured pencils, and bottled brushes under the drawing board.
“Cool,” was all Logan said.
“Wait, let me make a space on the desk, you can use that.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Oh, and do you want a drink? We have, like…water. And orange juice, I think. And milk, if you’re into that.”
“Nah. I’m good.”
Jay, who had collected all the debris on the desk and simply dumped it beside it, straightened and swept his hand in a grand gesture at the now clear table. “Done!”
Logan huffed a laugh but nodded. “Thanks,” he said again.
“No worries. Did it take you long to get here? Actually, I have no idea where you live.”
“Upper East Side.”
Jay nodded, having guessed that. He lived in Crown Heights, near Weeksville, on the third floor of an old but trusty building. Their landlord was involved in the running of the building instead of merely expecting a check every month without moving a finger, a lucky break in New York.
Logan sat on the desk chair and Jay on the bed, facing him. “What homework did you bring?” He’d used the excuse of homework as a buffer, a way not to get rejected, or to insinuate that he was just asking Logan over to fool around.
“Gotta finish an essay on whether education is too commercialised.”
“Wow, that’s pretty interesting.”
“Yeah, it’s not bad.”
“Do you like going to college?”
Logan frowned at the floor, silent. He looked thoughtful, though, instead of shutting down, so Jay let the quiet stretch until Logan looked up again. “It’s not bad. The classes are hit-and-miss, I guess.”
“That’s a bit of a vague answer.”
Logan shook his head, but there was a small smile on his face. “It’s complicated. I like the course. I just wished I’d picked it myself.”
“Oh. Your parents?”
“Yeah.”
“They wanted you to do business?”
“Well, they wanted me to go into politics, but there’s no way in hell I was gonna do that, so business was the next best thing. My mom is a businesswoman, so it’s not like she can complain. She’s ‘self-made’, as she puts it.”
“That’s awesome, so is my mom.”
Logan leaned back on the chair. “She’s a doctor, right?”
“Yeah. She works on jaws and faces and stuff. Like, after people have accidents or if they have, like, lockjaw or something.”
Logan hummed and nodded, looking impressed.
“She worked really hard. She was a single mom—I mean, sheisa single mom, but she was a single mom trying to become a doctor when I was little. She would take me to the lectures sometimes. Some of the lecturers didn’t let me though, ’cause it was hard to keep me still, ’cause of the ADHD. But it was better when I was drawing. Does your mom involve you in her business stuff?”
Logan snorted. “She tries,” was all he said.
Jay decided not to poke at that particular beast.
