Chapter Six

After a seemingly endless day, the heavens were overcast but harmless when Evan left work, and he managed to catch Dennis, asking him to pass on his excuses for missing another Beston House meal. He ran all the way to Ponden Street, where he was relieved to find Milo more at ease than he had been but determined to finish the portrait as soon as possible. The chance of Evan being caught in another smog seemed to make Milo unbearably fretful. He worked through the evening and as much of the weekend as Evan could spare, profiting from the now cloudless spring sky and the copious light it poured into the room. The fine weather was good for Evan’s lungs too, but his time with Milo did nothing for the rest of his body.

Sitting immobile for so many hours sent spasms down his rigid spine and twinges of pain through his limbs. Milo thankfully knew how far he could test his endurance. Each time Evan thought he might lose all feeling in his legs, Milo would put down his brush and thank him for his superlative patience. But after a quick cup of tea and a bite to eat, Milo would return to his canvas, and Evan was glad when he announced, at six o’clock on Sunday evening, that he was as satisfied as he could be with his work. He’d already explained during one of their chats that artists are never content with their creations. There is always one more stroke of the brush that would elevate their effort to a true masterpiece, but the artist who wishes to evade the trap of madness knows when to put an end to his travails and his obsession.

Evan was nervous when Milo invited him to examine the finished portrait. He hadn’t laid eyes on it since Tuesday evening, and he hadn’t been sure what to make of it then. Milo’s style was exceedingly modern, and not what Evan was used to in his limited appreciation of art. He’d hoped he’d be able to praise the work with some degree of honesty, but as he stood in front of the easel, he found himself speechless.

The picture was no longer a muddled concoction of painted streaks and pencil lines, but an unmistakable likeness of Evan. It was the face he saw in the mirror each morning, with its crooked nose and unruly red hair, but it was also quite different. Evan couldn’t work out at first how the image diverged from reality. Then he realized, in both disbelief and delight, that his face had been transformed into something of undeniable beauty.

“Don’t keep me in suspense.” Milo stood beside Evan. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing. In fact, you must be some kind of genius. You’ve actually made me look handsome.”

“That has nothing to do with me, Evan. Thank your parents or Mother Nature, or God, if you must. I simply painted what I saw. An extremely attractive young man.”

“Don’t be daft.” Evan hoped he wasn’t blushing too much. “You must have changed something, but whatever it is, I approve. I hope it does well in the competition.”

“There’ll be so many entries, I doubt it will be placed. I’ll be thrilled if it receives a commendation.”

“I’m sure it will, despite its mediocre subject.”

“There is nothing mediocre about you.” Milo rested his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “And don’t you ever think it.”

Evan turned to look at Milo, who was smiling in an oddly serious way. He opened his mouth to speak, and Evan was fairly certain of the subject he was about to broach. Milo hadn’t mentioned their kiss since the night of the smog, and Evan hadn’t dared to bring it up, not wanting to disturb his artistic concentration. He was also afraid of what Milo might say. While he’d done all sorts of things with plenty of men, Evan hadn’t done much kissing before. Brief as it was, perhaps his kiss had been so inept it had put Milo off him for good. Evan braced himself for the worst as Milo finally spoke.

“Evan, I want to apologize for the other night. I should never have kissed you like that, and I am unreservedly sorry.”

Such an earnest apology was the last thing Evan had expected. “What are you sorry for? I enjoyed kissing you. I enjoyed it very much.”

“So did I, but I shouldn’t have let it happen. I hope you can forgive me for leading you on in such a way.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to.”

“I know that, but I’m afraid I may have led you to believe we could be more to each other than friends. And we can’t. I wish that weren’t the case, but there’s nothing to be done.”

“Why does it have to be the case? We’re both grown men. What we do in private is no one’s business but our own.”

“Normally I would agree, but it’s not possible for you and me.”

Evan couldn’t believe he’d misjudged Milo so badly.

“You mean because I’m not rich and didn’t go to a posh school?”

“Evan, how could you think that? It has nothing to do with class or wealth. I don’t care if you’re the son of a miner or a millionaire. I like you enormously, and that is where the problem lies. If I liked you less, perhaps we could be lovers, but… I can’t explain, and I don’t expect you to understand, but as things stand, we can only be friends.” Milo’s smile was heartbreakingly hopeful. “We can be friends, can’t we? I can’t bear the thought of losing you completely.”

Evan hesitated, but the idea of not seeing Milo again was equally painful to him.

“Of course I’ll be your friend. How could I do anything else?”

“Thank you, Evan.” Milo’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, my dear man.”

Evan stayed with Milo as late as he dared, and although they talked constantly, they didn’t mention Milo’s romantic reluctance again. As he walked home, Evan mulled over the night’s events, trying to work out what made Milo so scared of falling in love. He could only guess that someone had hurt him in the past, and Evan instinctively despised the man, whoever he was, for standing in the way of Milo’s happiness and his own. With no other choice, Evan resigned himself to a pure and innocent friendship with Milo—a relationship he would nonetheless cherish, and one he could only have dreamed of a few short days before.