“I knew you’d love it,” Patty shouted from behind the pastry counter. The statement wasn’t enough. She had a victory dance. As she pumped a fist in the air, her ponytail spun around like a propeller. The owner of No Big Whoop had more energy than any person should be allowed.
I grinned as I sketched Harvey and Walter from the waist up, facing one another as they held hands as if exchanging vows. At first glance, I might have suspected that these men had a torrid love affair. When Walter patted Harvey on the back, his hand lingered. When they stopped and stared at one another, the affection was palpable.
It took the entire meeting before I realized they weren’t gay; in fact, quite the opposite. These men were flag-waving heterosexuals and so comfortable with their sexuality that it stomped out any semblance of toxic masculinity. I bet on movie nights, they had a friendly cuddle, and something about that filled me with joy.
Smudging the graphite, I shaded Harvey’s laugh lines. They both had them, but Harvey must have spent most of his life smiling. When I reached his age, I wanted those grooves along my cheeks. The world would know I spent my days reveling in happiness.
I lost track of time as I added detail to their hands. As they stood there, Walter looked at their hands while Harveyadmired his friend. If I were to draw the next moment, they’d be embraced in a hug. I’m sure they’d whisper their appreciation to one another.
“Wow.”
I slammed the sketchbook shut in a knee-jerk reaction. When I looked up, Patty had a small plate with a tiny whoopie pie. She wore a turtleneck that should have kept her modest, but the way it hugged her body suggested she liked showing off. I couldn’t look any more guilty if I tried. Raising an eyebrow, I realized I had been caught in the act. My cheeks turned red as I opened it up.
“Sorry. Not used to people seeing them in process.”
She giggled. “That is… I mean…”
“Did I go too far?” Radical love had been all about showing people consumed by their passion. For Harvey and Walter, I couldn’t help but think they were passionate about one another. It had nothing to do with sexuality, just a genuine love for their friend.
“It’s perfect.” She took my sketchbook and lifted it for a closer inspection. “Everybody in town knows them as a couple of jokers. If you’re not laughing at them, then you’re not paying attention. But…”
Patty stifled a gasp. Whatever caught in her throat made me nervous. The idea had come to me after an afternoon with them. I liked to think I could read the room, but maybe I had them wrong.
“More men should be like them,” she said. “Every time Walter says ‘I love you,’ Harvey replies with ‘Love you more.’ It’s beautiful, really. Sometimes soulmates aren’t whowe expect.” She gave me a pat on the shoulder. “They’d think it’s perfect.”
Before I could comment, she pulled a loose page from the side. Her eyes went wide. Without a word, I knew exactly the page she had pulled. I had already drawn her but was waiting for the perfect moment to sneak it into the corner and run away. Getting caught was not part of the plan. I ran my hand along my goatee, staring at the far wall, avoiding eye contact.
“Sorry about that.”
She set down the sketchbook, still holding the page with her portrait. Patty’s eyes darted back and forth. Every now and then, I’d catch a patron discovering the sheet of paper, and I’d revel in their expression. I tried to avoid lingering. Once I set the page down and walked away, it was about them experiencing how somebody else saw them. I felt as if I were eavesdropping on a private conversation.
She glanced down at her chest and then back to the drawing. “The girls are looking good.” I snorted at her statement. “Though, that right there is a full-sized whoopie pie.” She made a tsk tsk sound. “It’s calledNo Big Whoop. I’m sorry, you’ll have to start over.”
Her smile said otherwise.
“I like seeing people do what they love.”
She pointed at the picture of Harvey and Walter. “And you do a good job at it. You’ve got a gift.” She set her portrait on the sketchbook. “Hazel would be proud of you. She always had a smile when people got excited about the things she loved. It must be genetic.”
I handed the sketch back to her. “Radical love.” It was the first time one of my subjects heard the phrase. “This is for you. Think of it as a reminder to follow your heart.”
She dropped the plate on the table and lunged, arms wrapped around my neck. Uncomfortable, I gave her a pat on the back. Patty lingered for a moment before pulling back. Her eyes watered, and if she cried, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.
“I needed that.” She put the sketch on the table. “Signature, please.”
With a quick scribble, I handed it back.
“I needed a boost today.” She wiped her eyes. “And if I keep eating my feelings, I’ll never make a profit. Now I have to figure out where I’m going to hang it.”
“Hang it?”
“Everybody needs a chance to see this. And make sure that one finds its way into Harvey’s hands. I’m willing to bet money he puts it in a nice box and gives it to Walter as a present. Those two exchange gifts like every day is a special occasion.”
I didn’t respond as she took her sketch and held it up in various locations around her shop. Humble. I felt humbled that something I created turned around somebody’s day. The book covers I created were intended to sell products. I’m sure some loved them, but did those covers make somebody hum in delight? I doubted it.
As I packed up, Patty stood behind the counter, holding the sketch next to what I assumed was the first dollar she had ever made. On the other side, a newspaper articlecelebrated the opening of No Big Whoop. Knowing that something I created earned a spot between two monumental life moments warmed my heart. Radical love could right the wrongs of the day.
I needed to practice what I preached.
