Learning-to-Feel (22 page)

I was really fucking confused. I looked at Kat, and she was smiling. She explained, "I told Bren after we saw you two weeks ago, you were gay. I told him I hoped you came out soon," she smiled sweetly at me. She told me, "He said '
no way'
," she imitated his voice perfectly. Then she continued, "I said '
yes way'
. Then he said '
I bet you two-hundred dollars he’s not
gay
'... "

I stared at her. Then at my mom and my sister. But Kat stood up, walked over to me kissed my cheek and told me softly, "It’s so good to see you happy. Finally."

And I breathed. Trent wiggled his fingers in my hand, and I realized the vice-like grip I had on his hand was probably a little too tight. But I couldn’t let go of him completely. So I just loosened my grip a little.

Then my mom pulled me out of my chair to hug me. I hugged her with one arm. Now everyone saw I was still holding Trent’s hand before I dropped it to hug my mom properly. Mom kissed one cheek, then the other and she wiped tears from her own. "Oh, Nathan," she said, smiling. She hugged me again and whispered, so only I could hear, "I’m so proud of you."

I nodded, numbly, and she let me go. I still didn’t have time to fully register what I’d just unloaded on them before Alana hugged me. "About time, Nathan," was all she said.

I looked at her, stunned. She smiled and shook her head, knowingly. "You knew?" I asked her.

"We all...
wondered
," she said softly. Then she shrugged, "Well, not Brendan. But he’s an idiot…"

I looked at my brother then, and he was now in a state of disbelief. I slowly sat back in my chair and reached blindly for Trent's hand. I deliberately don’t look at my father.

After the longest time, Brendan finally closed his mouth. Then he opened it again. "But you've been with women," he said.

I snorted. "And it was…" I tried and think of the right word, "wrong." Then I looked at the three women at the table and cringed. "Sorry."

They smiled at me and at Trent. I looked at him then, and he looked at me in wonder, like he couldn’t believe what I’d just done.

Then a scrunched up napkin hit me in the face. Brendan. He looked to the leather strand around my neck. "So, you gonna join some hippy, gay commune and hug trees and shit?" he said.

I scrunched up my napkin and threw it back at him. "Don’t know, Brendan. Can you tell the difference between boy and girl trees?"

Trent chuckled quietly beside me and squeezed my hand, relieved. Brendan grinned at me. I smiled at him, and I knew we were good.

"So…" Brendan trailed off suggestively, still smiling, looked pointedly between Trent and I. "You two…are…what?"

"Together," I answered. I looked at Trent and smiled, and it felt like my chest might burst. "Trent and I are together."

There were more smiles, but I felt my father's eyes on me. Everyone at the table glanced periodically at him, then at me, as though they were waiting to see which one of us would speak to the other first.

My mom stood up, cleared coffee cups and looked at the man beside me. "Trent dear, could you help me with these?" she asked. It was a clear, and not very subtle, excuse to give me some alone time with my dad.

Trent looked at me and squeezed my hand, regardless of who could hear, he asked, "Are you okay?"

I nodded and gave him a small smile.

"I'll just be inside," he told me. Then he whispered, "I’m so proud of you."

I looked down at our joined hands, marvelling at his long fingers in mine. He stood up, pulled his hand away, picked up some uneaten brunch and walked inside. Kat, Brendan and Alana walked down toward the river, giving us some space.

Bentley started to follow them, but I called him back. "Stay here with me, buddy," I said to him, and scratched him behind his ear. I still hadn't made eye contact with my dad.

"Nathan," he said quietly. "Can you look at me, please?"

I exhaled slowly and dragged my eyes to his. He looked concerned and sad, and I really had no idea what he was about to say.

"Bentley looks like he was banged up pretty badly…" he said.

"The vet was closed, and I wasn't about to let him die," I said defensively.

"Nathan-" he started again, but I cut him off.

My voice was just a whisper. "I love him, Dad. I love him." And he knew I wasn’t talking about Bentley. "For the first time ever, I know what
life
feels like." It was then I realized I was crying. I scrubbed my hands at the stupid tears.

"Nathan, for years we watched you study and work, study and work," he said, looking down at the others near the river. "It was all you did. Don’t get me wrong, Nathan. Your mother and I are both extremely proud of what you've achieved. But it’s hard to watch your child struggle with happiness. It’s one of the most difficult things, knowing your son is so unhappy." He looked at me then. "And you were, Nathan. We all saw it."

I looked back down at Bentley, who was now resting his head on my thigh as I patted him. "I’d never been happy," I mumbled, looking back at my dad. "Never."

Then dad smiled. "Until now."

I let out a shaky breath. "Until now."

"Nathan, a blind man would be able to see how happy Trent makes you," my dad said with a smile.

Surely he could see the scepticism in my eyes. "It doesn't bother you... that I’m gay?"

He smiled again and shook his head no. "That boy has brought you back to life. I don’t care if you're gay, straight or whatever else your fancy, Nathan. Just as long as you're happy."

I looked at him and fresh tears fell down my face. "Thank you," I told him, and he pulled me in for a hug, which was kind of silly and awkward, because we were both still sitting down. But he managed it.

"Just promise me you'll stay safe and healthy," the doctor in my father said.

I understood his concern. He was a doctor worried for his son. I nodded. "Of course, Dad. Always."

"Now, tell me," he said, using his loud Doctor Tierney, Senior voice. "What's this about you treating a dog in a hospital?"

Wiping my face, I chuckled softly and told him. Everything. I told him a little of Trent's history, his parent's death, how he had been alone and scared of heartbreak. I told him how Trent tried to leave me, how he barely got a hundred miles from me before he couldn't go any further. How he came back, how Bentley was hurt, how Trent begged me to fix him, I told him everything.

Brendan, Kat and Alana wandered back up to the house, but didn’t interrupt us.

I told Dad why the veterinary clinic was closed until next week, about the kids in Searsport, about Dani, Adam and Steve.

"Steve's the Chief of Police," I told him. "He was the one who stood guard at the door while I treated Bentley so no one else would see."

Dad laughed and shook his head at the thought. He sighed, "You really love it here."

"I do," I answered him honestly. "My work feels more…
appreciated
here," I told him. Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but I didn’t amend it. "It’s only been four weeks, I know, and maybe it'll drive me mad in twelve months, but for now, I love it."

He smiled at me, with amazement and pride in his eyes. "I’m so glad to hear it, Son."

"I know I’ve only known Trent for four weeks," I admitted. "But Dad... I think he’s it for me. Nothing in my life has ever felt so
right
."

My father smiled and nodded, knowingly. "The moment I met your mother, it was the same for me." He shrugged. "Sometimes it’s just the way it works."

I looked back inside the house, wondering why it was so quiet in there, and dad laughed. "Yes, go save him. Lord only knows what your mother's roped him into doing."

I laughed and nodded, because it was probably true. But when I walked through the kitchen and into the living room, I found the reason for their silence. They were all in there, staring at a painting.

One of Trent's paintings.

One I hadn't seen before. It was big, rectangular and now hanging on the lounge room wall. Kat said quietly, "Your mom saw the paintings on the floor in the corner, and wanted to see them."

Trent looked at me, and he looked scared and nervous. And I wished Mom had just minded her own business and not got into his personal things. He was so private with his paintings…

I was quickly by his side and put my hand on his back. "I’m sorry," I told him quietly.

But then Mom turned to face me, and she had tears in her eyes.

Alarmed, I looked at the painting, tried to see what she saw. Large, textured, feather-looking leaves of spicy browns, burnt oranges, shades of hazel and alabaster. They were falling, or flying, overlapping, swirling, different sizes, shapes, surfaces... there was one red leaf in the top corner.

"It looks like the forest in Fall," Alana said.

And it did. It was very beautiful.

Then Alana stepped closer and read something in the bottom corner. "Learning to Fell," she said out loud.

"Um, it’s Learning to Feel," Trent said quietly. "The e looks like an l."

My mom stepped in front of Trent and with tears in her eyes, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Trent. It’s beautiful."

Trent bowed his head and smiled shyly.

Mom must have seen the confusion on my face, because she hugged me again and whispered to me, "It’s you, Nathan. It’s all the colors of you."

My mouth fell open
.
I stared at Trent, then at the painting then back at Trent. "Me? It’s of me?"

He looked at the floor, but he nodded. And when he finally did look up at me, his eyes showed his vulnerability.

Still staring at the painting, Brendan cocked his head to the side. "That’s not Nathan?" And Kat whacked his arm, shushing him to be quiet.

Trent smiled, and his voice was barely a whisper. "It’s the painting I’ve been working on…for almost four weeks. The house painting has been done for two weeks, so I’ve had the time…"

Me. It was of me. He had been painting me, the colors of me, almost since the day I got here. He struggled with expressing emotion, but he gave a part of himself, he said so much in every brushstroke. I quickly wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him against me. I didn’t care that my family was right there.

"Wait. What?" I asked. "The house paintings been done for two weeks?"

He smiled at me. "Told you I couldn't leave."

I laughed. "Is that really me?" I asked, looking back at the painted canvas before us. He nodded.

I talked into his hair. "You have to teach me how to read your work."

He laughed against me, and I notice my mother had dragged everyone out of the room. Kat stopped by the door and muttered, "Oh, I’m happy to watch." Brendan's jaw almost hit the floor, and he pulled her by the elbow into the kitchen.

I chuckled and pressed my lips against his forehead. "I can’t believe you painted me." I held his face and kissed him, sweetly but soundly. "It tells me things you can’t say."

His breathing hitched, but he nodded. I knew he lovds me. It was there in front of me, on canvas, in browns and hazel. It wasn’t in words, it was in thousands of brushstrokes. In all the colors of me, without words, he told me he loved me.

"Trent,” I whispered
into his ear. “
I love you, too."

Chapter 22

I sat curled up on the futon-like chair with a book, blanket and Bentley enjoying the rare sunshine streaming through the attic windows.

Trent was painting, and Bentley and I were
not
disturbing him. We didn’t always join him up here, but some days, particularly on my weekends off when we stayed in Belfast, if he got the urge to paint, sometimes it could be the only way I got to see him.

When his muse lured him, encouraged him, I swear sometimes he could paint for days. And he was beautiful when he painted. He got so lost in what he was doing, he didn't even notice us up there with him. I could have watched him forever. His concentration, the way his eyebrows pinched and his lips pursed and how his hands fluttered with the brush, barely containing his creativity.

But I didn’t speak to him when he painted. I just liked to be near him. So I sat up there, cozied up with Bentley on the futon, stroking the fur on his neck while he snoozed at my thigh.

And admittedly, it was one of my favourite things in the world to do.

Sometimes I read, sometimes I just enjoyed the silence and sometimes I dozed. Sometimes Trent would have his iPod playing, sometimes he wouldn't. Today, there was no music, and I found my eyelids starting to close.

I woke with a start when Trent's phone rang. So did Bentley, he jumped off the sofa and shook himself awake, while Trent spoke quietly into his phone. He walked to the dormer window and looked out across the vast forest.

"Um, when?" he said.

"Okay. Yeah, that’s fine," he told whoever was on the other line. "Sure. I'll see you then."

"My pleasure," he added, before he clicked off the call. He turned to face me, all wide-eyed and a little shocked.

"Trent, are you okay?"

He nodded slowly. His voice was quiet. "Um, that was the Gallery. They said yes."

I crossed the attic floor quickly and hugged him. "Of course they said yes, Love."

"Actually, they said they'd be honored," he mumbled into my neck.

Laughing, I pulled him back so I could see his face. "Because you're fucking talented."

He looked at the paintings scattered around us and swallowed, trying to take some deep breaths.

I held his face. "Trent, deep breaths, baby," I said, unable to stop smiling. After he’d inhaled a few times, I told him, "You deserve this. You've worked so hard."

"Do you think they'll like it?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head no. "They will love it."

"Oh, my God," he murmured. "Nathan, they said yes."

I pulled him against me, kissing where ever my lips could reach. "I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it."

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said into my shirt.

He held me tightly, but he was almost bouncing with excitement. When he peeled himself away from me, he flipped open his phone. "There’s someone we
have
to call."