Page 68 of Paint Eater
Logan could see in Jay’s eyes that he knew it wasn’t going to be so easy. That Logan was still terrified of his mom’s disappointment.
But, for now, he hoped this was enough. That he would be able to keep the promise that he was making to Jay when he said ‘I love you.’
“Okay,” Jay said softly. He kissed Logan, soft and sweet, before pulling him towards the bed until they were curled up facing each other, tangled up and close.
Logan felt a weight that had crushed his shoulders for years start to lift. He could still feel the ache of it, the deep bruising that would take time to heal. For now, though, he let himself sink into the relief of having chosen something for himself.
And having that thing be Jay.
Logan pressed his forehead against Jay’s and felt the pure, simple pleasure of holding someone who actually loved him, and who he loved in return.
EPILOGUE
LOGAN
Logan could admit that part of him had thought it wouldn’t last. He’d love Jay, and then something would happen, or a series of small somethings, and they would break up and never see each other again.
And it was hard, those first few years. Some naïve part of Logan had thought that once he started defying his mom, he’d keep being able to do it without the anguish of that first time, but life wasn’t so easy.
Logan had become accustomed to his mom making all the decisions, and, despite how much he’d come to resent that, it had been easy, too. All he had to do was let go, to give in. It was so much easier not to fight.
But through every weak moment Logan had, Jay was there, so bright that it was impossible not to want. Not to fight.
Logan had told Jay that he wasn’t the reason Logan was defying his mom, and that was true, but he doubted he could have done it without Jay. Jay, who bought him some advanced photography lessons for his next birthday. Jay, who prodded and encouraged until Logan caved and they arranged a pop-up gallery showing on a street, inviting all of Jay’s friends, and the few Logan had made at NYU.
Nisha, as crafty as always, had invited a journalist, who was impressed enough to write a piece on Logan’s work.
Logan hadn’t become instantly famous, but most people seemed to like his style. No one as much or as vocally as Jay, of course, but that was a high bar to beat.
In retaliation, Logan convinced Jay to show his 1920s mural to the world. They couldn’t invite people to the actual space, fearing they’d get in trouble and it’d be taken down. Instead, they’d filmed a virtual tour, and Logan took a series of photographs which ended up being Logan and Jay’s first joint gallery show, something they’d start to do more and more often later in their careers. The attention it got stunned Jay, who remained glued to his phone for a week, reading and replying to comments on his Instagram. Looking back, it was a turn in Jay’s career. It’d be years until he truly made a name for himself as one of the best tattoo artists, but the 1920s mural would be one of his first real triumphs and what got people to start really paying attention to him.
Years down the line, when Jay finally opened up his own tattoo shop, it was one of Logan’s photographs of the mural that hung behind the front desk. Logan, who had a darkroom and office attached to Jay’s tattoo shop, would stare at it proudly, a nostalgic reminder of when they had barely begun their relationship, unknowing of all it was to become.
Despite their love for each other, their relationship was hard-won. Logan’s mom, Jay’s insecurities, Logan’s inability to just open up andtalk. Those things had to be worked at, day after day, until they didn’t hurt as badly.
It was three years after meeting Jay again that Logan started going to therapy. Some things Logan and his therapist talked about were more useful than others, but the best thing she ever taught him was, “Every time youfeellove for Jay, tell him.”
He would forever remember the first time he put the lesson into action, watching Jay cook eggs—or, more accurately,overcookingeggs—and feeling a rush of something warm and sweet and filling.
“I love you, you know,” Logan had confessed. It wasn’t the first time he said that, of course, but he’d never voiced it in such an innocuous moment.
The way Jay’s face lit up. The way his eyes had gone wide and delighted but also a little incredulous too had pierced through Logan.
“Me too,” Jay had said. “Obviously. So, so much.”
It was a thing he did from then on. Every time he felt that warmth, either simmering or flaring hot, he would step close and press his lips against Jay’s temple and say, “I love you.”
He learnt quickly that there was never going to be too many ‘I love yous.’ That as long as he meant it—and he meant it for the rest of his life—those words would always have meaning.
After college, Logan had rejected the idea of getting a postgraduate degree in favour of an actual job. He’d learnt a lot from Sunja, who had let him intern at her shop during the summer, absorbing the ins and outs of keeping a business afloat—the finances, the marketing, the staffing and supply.
That had been a hell of a fight, his mom furious at his decision to become a photographer.
“You’re going to throw everything away and take pictures of weddings and bat mitzvahs for the rest of your life?” she’d demanded, eyes almost glowing with rage.
Logan had known, of course, that his mother didn’t actually think he’d ever make it as an artist. He’d realised then, though, that even the worst-case scenario of photographing other people’s happy events was better than the life she wanted for him.
“Yes,” he’d said and walked out.
