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It couldn’t be that hard. He’d walk into the art store and ask some staff for help. Then he’d be able to pick up some supplies for his as-yet-unknown painting. Lydia had already told him he could work in the backroom of the cafe. As Enzo no longer worked there, Finn would have an easier time hiding the gift from him.
Finn squared his shoulders and took a step inside Parallel. He immediately came to a halt directly inside the store. Dozens of white shelves loomed before him, like giant monoliths of old. Signs advertised incomprehensible things like gouache. What the hell was gouache?
Ok, he could be logical about this. What did Enzo use to paint? Well. Paint. And brushes. And a canvas. So three things. Finn only needed three things.
He flagged down a young woman with pink hair wearing a blue apron that looked like she worked there. Her brightly colored name tag said “Shelby.”
“Excuse me. I’m looking to get started on a painting. Can you help me pick out supplies?”
Shelby blinked. “Well. First, what kind of paint? There’s watercolor, acrylic, oil, gouache...”
There was that word again. “What’s gouache?”
It was at this point that Shelby must have realized he knew nothing. “It’s, uh, opaque watercolor.”
Oh. Well, that didn’t help much. He didn’t want to ask a follow up and further show his ignorance. He knew Enzo used oil paints, so maybe he should start with that. “Oil paints then. Can I get a little thing of colors.” He made a motion with his hands.
“You mean a palette?”
“I suppose.”
“Have you ever painted with oil paint before?”
“I’ve never painted at all. Except for water colors when I was a child.” Everyone had those little boxes — palettes apparently the proper term — in elementary school.
“So you have no supplies at all.”
“What would I need other than a canvas, paint, and brushes?”
Shelby winced and rubbed her forehead. “Lots of things. An easel. Gesso. Varnish. Drop cloths. A mixing palette. And if you don’t get a prepped canvas, you’ll have to get the materials to do that, depending on what kind of paint you purchase.”
“Oh.”
She grinned, perhaps realizing she was about to make a huge sale. “But we don’t have to go that route. I have some kid friendly kits in aisle fourteen that come with everything you need to get started.”
He let her lead him to aisle fourteen where three children were arguing about which dinosaur painting kit they should purchase. Maybe he should pick one of those up. They’d get a good laugh out of it once he presented Enzo with his painted dinosaur.
But it wouldn’t feel real. It would be like if Finn made a mockery of what Enzo did every day. He wanted to create something from scratch, something beautiful that he put into every bit of his love for Enzo.
“What if I don’t want to paint a dinosaur?” He turned to the clerk with a smile.
“Well, if you pick up a kit you’ll have most of what you need to get started. Then we can grab a blank canvas and some other supplies.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
He waited for her to get the hint. She nodded and headed back toward the front of the store. He ducked around the aisle, away from the kids still arguing and hopefully out of sight of Shelby. Finn pulled out his phone and found Tami’s contact information. “Hello? It’s Finn. Yes, I would definitely like to come to your sip and paint night, please.”
At least that way he’d get a crash course in painting, even if he didn’t leave the session with something he could give Enzo.
#
ENZO HAD BEEN THRILLED when Finn told him he was going to some girls’ night thing with Tami from the cafe. Since lockdown, Finn had been anxious about going out, and it was fabulous to see him doing something where he might make some new friends and find a new hobby. Enzo was happy for him.
Never mind that it also gave him the perfect opportunity to work on his surprise present. “Do you need me to pick you up?”
“I’ll rideshare home. Don’t wait up,” Finn had said earlier that evening.
Once he was out the door, Enzo ran up the stairs, to the second bedroom he used as his administrative office. There he had set up his shiny new Mac computer and oversized scanner, which he used to send files to his printer. Finn respected this space, so there would be no chance of him finding out what Enzo was up to.
It took him a few minutes to find the word processing program. He was more comfortable in one of the design programs needed to create flyers and other advertising for his art. When was the last time he used word processing? One of his college papers? Even his resume had been done in a design program.
Enzo opened up a blank document and stared at the cursor. Perfect. Time to create a masterpiece for Finn. He cracked his fingers before setting them on the keyboard, ready to bang out a mini novel.
Only. What was he going to write?
Finn had re-written The Sculptor’s Heart as an apology to Enzo, back when they first got together. He’d used the main character, Leon, to give an apology that was fully heartfelt and personal – and meant for Enzo alone. It had brought Enzo to tears that day he first read it, in the storeroom of the cafe.
That was a pretty fucking high bar to hit.
What could he write? A love story? Enzo had no idea how Finn went about his work. How did he create characters? Ones that weren’t based on real people? And once he had those people in his head, how did that turn into a story? Finn had done this eighteen times. He wrote a whole book every year.
And Enzo couldn’t even write a single word. He didn’t know where to start.
When in doubt, call his best friend. Enzo pulled out his phone and sent Nat a quick text to see if she were free. His phone rang a second later.
“Thank you for texting before calling.” Nat sounded out of breath. Her voice was a bit tinny too, as if she was calling from inside the trunk of a car. More likely, a closet.
“I know better,” he told her. “How is little Oliver?”
“Asleep. Finally. He’s adorable when he sleeps.”
She spoke the truth. He’d seen many photos of his godson, and they were indeed adorable. “Does it make up for the ear-piercing crying?”
Nat chuckled softly. “It does actually. You and Finn thinking about kids?” She and her wife Gina had gone for a donor shortly after getting married last year. They were perfect parents.
He made sure she couldn’t hear his snort in response. “I may have sold him on a dog. He needs to get out more.”
“Someplace besides the cafe, you mean.”
“He does his best writing there.” During lockdown, Finn had a hard time adjusting to not being able to go out there and write when he was stuck on a thorny plot problem. Enzo had hit on the brilliant idea of setting up their dining room to look like a mini cafe. He stood at the bar area and served Finn coffee while wiping down the counter.
It may or may not have resulted in sexy times. Not that he would tell Nat that.
“That’s sort of why I’m calling.” He sighed and explained his gift idea. “Obviously I can’t write a novel. I was thinking a short story.”
“It sounds like a cute idea. What’s the problem?”
He got up from behind his desk and paced the room. It felt too small. Maybe for the first time he understood Finn and his writer’s block. Maybe Enzo should go to the cafe and try writing there. “I have no idea what to write. I mean, Finn creates masterpieces. Have you read his latest? It’s brilliant. How can I compare with that? This was a stupid idea. I should go down to the one of the antique stores in town and buy him an ugly lamp or something instead.”
Nat choked on her laughter. “While that is an accurate portrayal of Finn’s taste in home decor, you’re totally thinking about this the wrong way.
He stopped pacing and started listening. “Oh?”
“Finn isn’t going to expect you to write something like he writes. He’s going to want something from the heart. And if you’re set on writing a love story, write your love story.”
He hesitated. “I’d thought of that, actually. But that’s what our first fight was about. Him writing about me in his book. Turning people in the cafe into characters. Wouldn’t I be a hypocrite if I try to do the same thing?”
“Are you planning on publishing this for the world to read?”
“Of course not!” He took a step back, offended at the thought.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but Enzo could imagine the look on her face, the same look she gave him every time he was being an idiot.
“I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”
Nat laughed. “Glad you figured that out for yourself.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you guys at the cafe party?” Enzo sat back at his computer. His calendar app reminded him there was only two weeks before the party. There was so much to do before then.
“We wouldn’t miss it,” she said before saying her goodbyes.
Enzo ended the call and put his phone on the desk. He glared at the little blinking cursor, determined to conquer it.
Write their love story. Okay then.
It was on Enzo’s thirtieth birthday that his life changed forever. He was about to meet the love of his life. And his favorite author. Who knew they would turn out to be the same person?
#
FINN SHOULD HAVE SAID no to that second glass of wine. His whole reason for coming here in the first place was to pick up the basics of painting. He had to learn enough to go back to Parallel and be confident in his purchases.
Instead he accepted the third glass of white from Tami’s friend Bianca. It helped blur the edges a bit, so when he looked at his painting on the easel, it almost resembled the example the instructor was presenting from the front of the room. She had made the lesson as simple as possible, which made sense since most of the people in the room were well past inebriated and into drunk territory right now.
No matter how much he tried, he could see the flaws in his painting, especially compared to the example their Instructor worked on up in the front. He put his brush down in frustration.
And that was another thing. They had different brushes. For different techniques. How many brushes did he need to buy in order to create a simple painting?
“Don’t worry, Finn.” Tami patted him in the shoulder. Her cheeks had darkened with her third glass of rose. “You’re a much better writer than painter.”
“I should leave the painting to Enzo,” he agreed.
“Is it true you’re actually Morgan Heart?” Tami’s other friend, Sophy, leaned forward and asked in a not very quiet whisper.
“If so we’re gonna have words about Broken Letters,” Bianca muttered, dabbing more purple paint on to her canvas.
“Hey, I only write happy endings now,” he protested. “And did you see the movie? They fixed the ending.”
Bianca and Sophy giggled, while Tami only shook her head as if disappointed with them both. “Leave the man alone. He’s trying to make a Christmas gift.”
He snorted. As if the patchy monstrosity in front of him was worth anything more than trash. In fact, that was where he’d dump it before they left for the evening. He couldn’t give this to Enzo.
“I can’t give this to Enzo. It’s horrible.” He picked up his brush, then dropped it again, disgusted. Time for more wine.
Bianca leaned over him with her paint laden brush. “Easy fix.” She painted a purple heart over his background, then put his and Enzo’s initials in the center. To be honest, it improved the work by quite a bit.
He started to giggle. It looked ridiculous. Soon, he was bent over in uncontrollable laughter, Tami and her friends joining him.
“Hey, at least you’re having fun?” Tami asked.
He actually was. Now that he’d taken the pressure off himself, he stopped worrying about matching the instructor’s example, and started painting little swirls all over his canvas. Every so often he’d smirk and shake his head, while Biana started painting over Sophy’s painting. They might not be creating art, but they were creating.
“I still need to come up with a present idea,” Finn said as they were cleaning up, the sound of clinking glasses and loud voices filling the room. “Because this isn’t going to work.”
“I think you might want to go the abstract route.” Tami pointed at his mess of a canvas. “You have a pretty good sense of color.”
While the compliment was nice, he didn’t quite believe her. Still, her suggestion made sense. When he was done putting his paints away, Finn wandered over to the front of the room and had a word with the instructor. It turned out she did offer private lessons and was happy to work with him on a special project. Excellent.
He got home about an hour later, sticking around to chat with some of the others at the sip and paint. While this turned out to be a bust gift wise, he’d had fun, and wouldn’t mind coming back again.
His rideshare dropped him off in front of his condo. He entered a silent house. Odd. It was still a bit early for Enzo to have gone to bed, yet he wasn’t down here watching TV. He crept upstairs, but Enzo wasn’t in his studio either. To his surprise, he found Enzo in the spare bedroom, typing at his computer.
“Hey.”
Enzo jumped up, startled. “Hey! You’re home early!”
“And only slightly tipsy.” He grinned. “I will probably have a killer headache tomorrow. I’m too old to drink that much wine.”
“Noted. I’ll have the ibuprofen waiting for you.”
He stood in the doorway, waiting for Enzo to tell him what he was working on. Instead Enzo stared at him. Okay, that was weird, wasn’t it? “I guess I’ll head to bed.”
“I’ll be there in five,” Enzo said. He didn’t move until Finn left the room, and only then did he hear the sounds of typing again.
What was Enzo doing that he didn’t want Finn to find out about? He couldn’t get it out of his mind as he brushed his teeth. Enzo only used that computer for his art stuff. Most of the time if he needed to browse the net or check his email he did so on his laptop while they were hanging out in front of the TV. It had to be something he didn’t want Finn to see.
Could it be the same thing that had been bugging Finn these past few days? The fact that they hadn’t had an actual wedding? Finn climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling. Maybe Enzo was looking up vendors or creating a portfolio as a surprise for Finn?
That was silly. He was putting his own anxieties onto Enzo. Finn wanted to do the whole wedding thing right. Big venue. Great food. All of their friends and family. But now was the worst possible time to think about it. The holidays were right around the corner, and so were both of their deadlines.
Soon. They’d have time to figure it out soon.