Page 32 of Wants and Needs
That’s all it says as far as I can tell from over here.
“Come on,” I tell London. Something in my brain is lighting up but I don’t know exactly what.
“I don’t think I can walk,” she whines.
I think about telling her to get it together, but I know I’d never do that. Instead I crouch in front of her, giving her my back.
“Climb on.”
She giggles softly, reminding me of when she was a lot smaller and would make the same sound every time I offered her a piggyback ride.
“Are you seriously going to get another cinnamon roll?” she asks softly once we’re walking in the direction of the bakery again.
“No.” I don’t give her any more explanations, and her silence tells me she’s really well on her way to being in a sugar coma, but I do know I need to saysomething, even if it’s to explain it to myself. “We’re going to check something,” I decide on.
When I get to the glass front of the building I see it’s a gallery, and that’s when the dots connect in my head. This is Sebas’s gallery, right?
Through the glass I can see colorful walls and columns as well as a lot of sculptures that look to be made out of metal. There are others that look like ceramic, and even a handful of paintings on the walls.
I crouch again so London can climb down, then I grab her hand and pull her in.
“Hello,” Sebas says, and then his tone changes. “Hey.” His smile is bigger this time, so I assume he remembers me.
“Hello, Sebas. This is my sister, London.”
“You’re Sebas David,” London says as she walks over to him and shakes his hand. “I love your sculptures,” she gushes.
“Where have you seen his sculptures?” I demand.
“On his IG,” she tells me without looking at me. And I hear theduheven if she didn’t add it at the end.
“Thank you,” Sebas tells her. This time his smile is smaller, and did his cheeks get redder? Why? Is he embarrassed by something?
“Is this all your stuff?” London asks him, and they go off and start talking about everything in the room.
Not everything is his, as it turns out.
He walks us through the left side of the room to the back, explaining all the pieces and the artists they come from. Almost at the corner there’s a pair of shoes made of metal. They’re clearly athletic shoes, but very slim and small. Not the actual size, but... yeah, compact.
“You made this,” I conclude from everything I’ve seen before.
“Yes,” Sebas says, and I see a small smile on his face as his eyes fix on the shoes.
“They’re Adam’s shoes,” I state after staring at them for a moment longer.
“Why do you think that?” Sebas asks me, and his eyebrows are raised at me.
“Liam is good at conclusions,” London says quickly.
“I am,” I confirm. “I know very little about welding or metal work, but I imagine the intricate way you’ve done it, the minute details of the stitches that are holding the different parts of the shoes together took a long time. Compared to the more rugged welding you did of the fish out front, and taking into account these shoes were made before, according to the information card here...” I pause to point at the top of the platform the shoes are perched on. “I’d say you spent at least a few months making these shoes, and the fish was something very quick and born out of artistic inspiration. This contrast is seen in most art mediums, including music which is what I’m an expert in, and I can recognize it based on other artists’ works and my own. You made these shoes with care and passion and love, which indicates a spouse or romantic partner, and that fish was made out of longing and an immediate need, which would indicate desire and maybe homesickness.”
When I finally stop talking, I see London is wincing and Sebas is staring at me open-mouthed. I fear that I might’ve said something offensive so I hurry to explain.
“Both are stunning in their own way, and I can see how bothserved their purpose and brought you joy by how proudly they’re displayed.”
Sebas shakes his head and holds out his hand, palm up in the universal gesture for me to stop.
“You’re one smart dude, huh?” is all he says, and he’s talking quietly but smiling.
