“I know in here,” he tapped his head, “that you’re not into what that girl was offering, or that you don’t have an interest in Hailey. But at the same time, in here,” he tapped his chest, “it hurts and I’m afraid you’re playing me.”
Grabbing his hand, I twisted our fingers together. “I’m not playing you, Uri. I swear. I’m not I—”
The door banged open and I jerked my hand back. Half a second later I realized exactly what I had done as we watched the busboy toss the trash into the bin at the bottom of the loading dock.
He closed the door and Uri stared at me.
“You get it.” He sighed.
“Uriah,” I tried again.
Shaking his head, he stood up. “I can’t, Austin. I’m sorry. I tried, I tried to wait.” He glanced up at the door, and sighed. “Noah probably already knows, but tell him I’ll be home when he gets there.”
I looked down and nodded.
His footsteps retreated down the alley.
Uriah was going.
And I was letting him go.
Uriah
The sultry tenor ofAustin’s voice floated through my headphones for the umpteenth time—the sounds of the Spanish and English intermixed in Luis’ songEl Sol Brilla Para Tiwith the high notes that Austin hit and the deep baritone that Grant lent—were soothing and sad and made my mind explode.
I grabbed another dab of crimson red and followed the dark notes from the rhythm guitar. Tracing them across the canvas with the palate knife, they quite literally underscored the yellow of the beautiful melodic guitar Luis provided.
Once I got to the end of the canvas, I was at the end of the song. I grabbed the greens for thin lines of lyrics that started at the other end again.
Grant and Austin chased each other down the canvas, detailing the sounds and meanings of the words from my hand into the paint that was flying off my brush, catching what my mind heard in color and depth.
Finally, I pulled the brushes off and away as the last notes disappeared.
The song started again and I collapsed to the ground. Noah caught me before I hit and lowered me the last few inches.
Noah. Always there for me.
I had known he was in the room long before. Twins always knew where the other was in the back of their head. We shared a womb, DNA, experiences, life, emotions. I didn’t know if other people ever had this connection with anyone, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Noah. My rock. Just as I was his.
He offered me a bottle of water. “You should have told me you were going to paint.”
“I didn’t want to bother you…”
“When has your painting ever bothered me?”
I grabbed the paintbrushes from where I had dropped them. “I was hoping this time…”
“Bro, it’s part of the deal. When you paint your sounds, you use up your energy, and crash as soon as you’re done. It’s always been that, it’ll always be that way.” He helped me stand and pointed to the couch in the corner of the room.
Obedient and grateful, I went. As I sat, he offered me a banana and a fun sized chocolate bar. I took the chocolate bar first and waved it at him. “This is why I stopped painting.”
“Chocolate?”
“Passing out, dickhole.”
Noah chuckled, but sat down next to me. “You should never stop painting. We bought the fainting couch for you, so you could paint. Parker wants more of the pictures. You’re unique.”
