Open - Part Twenty
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
I’m so damn proud of my Companion Plant, I don’t even know what to say.
The Bright Future building is filled to the brim with people. I’ve watched more than a few of them slip outside, then return through the hallway door, having gone through the first part again. The place looked beautiful before, but it looks amazing with so many visitors flowing through, the shimmering lights catching on everything.
The sea of laughter and talk, the looks on everyone’s faces, and the fact that so few guests have left yet tells me that people are having a good time.
Most of the student artists are hovering nervously by their artwork, talking to visitors, answering questions. A group of them are gathered around Floyd, who Aiden sent one of his free tickets. Floyd’s over-magnified eyes and grey flyaways are easy to pick out across the room, as is the faded, mustard-colored, corduroy jacket he wore over a t-shirt. His version of dressing up, it would seem.
I can’t hear what he’s saying to the grouped-up high schoolers, but they’re all grinning at him, watching his animated gestures, his rings all clicking together.
I was worried that Nathan - the young Kalispel artist who submitted his work to the show - might feel awkward. He’s the only one who doesn’t go to the Ketterbridge local high school, and he doesn’t know any of the other artists. But he came with a whole group of people, friends and family there to support him.
Nathan’s parents were chatting with Ripley’s parents, so he ended up talking to Ripley. Ripley is shy around new people, but the two of them seem to have instantly hit it off.
I can spot them easily across the room, what with Ripley’s green curls, and the bright blue snapback Nathan is wearing over his long, braided pigtails. Nathan is taking a close look at Ripley’s artwork, and Ripley is waiting in silence to hear what he thinks.
His eyes search the crowd while Nathan is busy. Looking for someone who still isn’t here yet.
Nathan eagerly says something about Ripley’s paintings, and Ripley’s eyes go back to him. He breaks into a wide smile, and they both laugh. They head off together towards Nathan’s sculpture, talking excitedly.
My parents already told both me and Aiden how much they love the show. Now they’re at the display by the bar, waiting in line to buy one of the archival prints. Aunt Sarah is right ahead of them, and they’re happily showing each other which ones they picked out.
Melanie is in business mode, in constant movement. One second she’s behind the bar, delivering more supplies from the kitchen. The next, she’s heading outside to make sure that the waves of people being let into the first room are still on time. Then she’s returning from the supply room to restock the Bright Future booklets, then she’s stopped to give instructions to her staff, and then she’s answering someone’s question about their ticket.
“Our girl is unstoppable,” Raj tells Noah affectionately, watching Mel stride past. He looks down at Nikita, who is bundled up in Noah’s arms. “See that, Nik? That’s your mom.”
Nik answers by reaching her hand out towards one of the sculptures, batting at it. Noah quickly catches her tiny fingers, takes a step back.
“That’s a compliment,” he tells the alarmed sculptor standing by the pedestal. “She likes it, she’s not trying to break it.”
I turn away to look for Aiden. He’s not hard to find, standing the tallest even in this very full room. He’s talking to some people I don’t even recognize - random visitors to the show. He’s blinking a lot, and he keeps lifting a hand to adjust the snapback he isn’t wearing.
“He’s a little overwhelmed, I think,” Gabby says, stopping at my side. “People keep complimenting him on the show.”
I smile at Gabby, who is already smiling, herself.
“You think that’s it, Kent?” I ask.
Kent doesn’t answer for a moment. He’s clearly having trouble keeping his eyes off of Gabby, who really did dress to the nines for this occasion. She wore a dramatic, black velvet dress with dark sequins sewn in, so that she catches all the gallery light and sparkles in it. She must be wearing a subtle dusting of glitter on her skin, too, because the glow definitely isn’t coming solely from the dress.
“What?” Kent asks, finally realizing that I asked him something.
I bite my lip, suppressing a laugh. “Nevermind.”
“He deserves this,” Gabby tells me, her gold bangles jingling softly as she points at Aiden. “This show surpassed my expectations. I intend to tell him that.”
“Well…” I look at Aiden with affectionate eyes. “Maybe tell him later. He’s already got a lot of people saying very nice stuff to him. Think he might have a meltdown if he hears that. From you.”
“Fair enough.” Gabby laughs brightly, has a sip of her wine. “Kent? Should we have a closer look at the art?”
Kent blinks his eyes away from Gabby, gazes around at the room like he just remembered where we are.
“Oh - the art! Yeah, let’s go. Ellen is way ahead of us, and the backlog of questions she’s going to have is - just-”
“Have fun,” I laugh, as Gabby slips her arm around Kent’s waist.
They set off together right as Floyd cuts through the crowd, waving wildly at me.
“Jamie!” he says, a little out of breath from his rush across the room. He takes my hand and starts shaking it vigorously, beaming from ear to ear. “Brilliant show, my boy, absolutely dynamite - and those kids! Sharp minds! They get it.”
He gestures at the high schoolers, then taps his temple with a fingertip, and while I have no idea what he’s talking about, I find myself beaming back at him.
“Glad you like it, Floyd.”
He leans forward confidentially, his grey eyebrows raised high. “Are there really two ghosts here? Aiden said there are. I would love to introduce myself, if so.”
“Wow, you - you’re taking that news in stride,” I tell him, taken aback. “It’s not like I pegged you for a skeptic, but I didn’t know you were an all-out believer. Like, to the point you’re all ready to introduce yourself.”
“Ah, I stand on the fence,” Floyd says brightly. “Who can say for sure about these things? But no harm in saying hello to a ghost that might be there, just in case. If there’s nothing there, well - that’s not much more embarrassing than waving at someone who doesn’t notice, is it? And I’ve done that often enough!”
I let out a laugh, then lead Floyd more out of the way of the flow of traffic moving through the exhibition.
“Kasey,” I call quietly. “Will.”
They were in the small room, but they appear on either side of me. I see instant recognition on their faces when their eyes land on Floyd. Aiden and I described him to them, and the hugely over-magnified eyes alone are enough for a positive identification.
“Floyd, this is Kasey,” I say, gesturing to her. “First-rate historian, first-rate person. And this is Will. He was a beat crewman for the Newman & Starr lumber company, in the 1820s. He and Kasey were our historical consultants for the show.”
“Really?” Floyd is clearly fascinated, even though he can’t see the ghosts in the slightest. “Well, hello, you two! Absolutely dynamite to meet you both!”
“Ghosts, this is Floyd Little, proprietor of Body Bag Books.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Little,” Will says, looking like he sincerely means it. “We’ve heard glowing reviews of your establishment from Aiden and Jamie both.”
I repeat this back to Floyd, who gets so excited that he wrenches his glasses off of his face, polishes them ferociously, and then puts them back on, as if that might help him see the ghosts. Kasey catches my eye, breaks into a grin.
I translate back and forth between them for a bit - Floyd has a lot of questions for the ghosts - but I do want to go check on Aiden. He’s been in a big crowd talking to a lot of people for a while now, and it’s loud in here. I know that it can be too much for him.
“Okay, sorry, but I’ve gotta go find Aiden,” I tell Will and Kasey. “Floyd, you’re welcome to chat with the ghosts some more, but, um. I guess they won’t be able to answer.”
“Not a problem!” Floyd assures me. “I suppose I’ll just - tell them a bit more about me!”
I could honestly laugh imagining what this looks like to anyone else, who would just see Floyd talking excitedly to the wall. But I bite it back and leave him with Will and Kasey, set off on a lap around the room.
I let my eyes roam over the student artwork as I go. It’s all so different, so beautiful, so unique.
There are pieces formed out of wood, fabric, paper. There are photographs, drawings, prints of digital art. Even a piece of book art, which is open on a pedestal with a waiting pair of cotton gloves for anyone who wants to flip through it.
Ripley didn’t play it safe with what he curated from each artist. Some of these I’m sure wouldn’t have been allowed in that student art magazine he told us about.
It makes it interesting, and people are talking.
I spot Raj and Noah standing in front of Ripley’s part of the wall. Neither of them has Nikita, which I guess means that Mel took her back. They’re both just staring at Ripley’s artwork, hands loose at their sides.
“Hey,” I say, stopping before them. “Have you guys seen-?”
I break off as Noah silently takes my shoulders and turns me around to face Ripley’s art.
It’s been so crowded in here that I haven’t been able to make my way over to it until now. This is the first glimpse I’ve had.
I press my fingers over my mouth, feel my eyes get very wide.
“Oh, my god,” I murmur, and Raj nods, impressed.
“Can’t say our man isn’t bold.”
“No, you really can’t,” I agree, unable to tear my eyes away.
Suddenly my heart is jumping nervously for Ripley. I cast my gaze over the crowd again, looking for him. He’s still over by Nathan’s sculpture, listening with obvious interest as Nathan tells him about it.
“Should we, like - stay here, in case this doesn’t work out?” Noah abruptly asks.
I look over at him, alarmed. “To do what?”
“I don’t know? Get Ripples out of here, give him his first hit of a blunt, or something?”
“What-? Okay, stop.” I make a face at Noah, trying to seem like I’m not nervous at all. “It’ll work out. Ripley knows what he’s doing. C’mon, you must be able to tell, the two of them-”
“Yeah, obviously, Jamie, but-” Noah looks at the paintings again. “Guy’s really like, putting his heart out on his sleeve, just…”
“Bold move,” Raj says again, turning his eyes back to the artwork.
“Well,” I answer, “Wouldn’t be Ripley, if it wasn’t.”
Both Noah and Raj make quiet noises of agreement. We all stare at the art, enraptured. It really is something beautiful. I’m so absorbed in it that I jump a little when Aiden puts his hand on my back.
“Hi,” he says, bending to press a kiss onto my nose. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve gotta give a walkthrough to the critic soon, and I’m fucking nervous. Alix should be here with him any minute, now.”
“Oh.” I take his hands, run my thumbs over his knuckles. “Well - you’ve probably still got some time, just take a second to-”
I cut myself off as Alix comes weaving through the crowd, waving at us.
“Hey, Aiden!” she calls. “Guess who’s here?”
Her voice immediately attracts the attention of Ripley, who turns around by Nathan’s sculpture. He goes very still, staring at Alix with wide eyes.
She’s in a short, loose white dress that flows all around her, fabric rippling as she moves. She left her shiny black hair down, and the breeze reveals quick glimpses of the bright pink streak dyed into it. She wore all gold jewelry and gold heels, so that just like Gabby, she seems to absorb the brilliant gallery light, then cast it off.
Ripley swallows hard, frozen to the spot.
Alix hasn’t seen him, over where he’s standing. Her eyes are fixed on Aiden, and like Melanie, she’s clearly in work mode.
“Aiden,” she says, stopping before us. “The critic is outside! Do you want to walk him through, or should I?”
“No, um-” Aiden steals the briefest glance over his shoulder at Ripley’s art. “You know what? I’ve got it. I’ll do it. You stay here.”
He ruffles my hair, then sets off for the door. He was the only thing blocking Ripley’s paintings, but Alix’s eyes are roaming around the room, and she doesn’t notice them.
“Wow,” she breathes, a wide smile turning up her lips. “I hadn’t seen it complete, yet. Look at this place, oh my god! Where’s Ripley? I have to tell him how - how…”
She fades off as her eyes land on Ripley’s artwork. She stares at it in silence, her expression suddenly blank, her eyes widening.
Two pieces of art, in two separate frames, but the same size, and right next to each other. Two paintings - two portraits.
The first portrait is of a person with his back to us. His face isn’t visible, only his head, shoulders, and back. He’s wearing a simple, unspecific black t-shirt. But Ripley is so good at this that anyone could tell it’s a self-portrait, even if the green curls weren’t a dead giveaway.
In the portrait, his head is turned very slightly to the side, showing the hint of a cheek, a nose.
This makes it look like he’s gazing towards the other portrait, which is of Alix.
It’s so clear that Ripley poured his heart and soul into this one. He must have spent so much time on each and every tiny aspect. Every eyelash, every strand of hair, every shadow.
Every single brushstroke, so carefully and lovingly done.
Alix looks directly out from the painting. The bright, blissful smile on her face makes it seem like she’s just about to laugh. Her shoulders are drawn in and up, the way they get when she starts giggling about something. Her inky black hair spills down around them, one bright pink lock peeking through.
While Ripley left the background of his self-portrait a simple green color, he completely filled in the background of Alix’s portrait with roses, done in a shade of pink that exactly matches the streak in her hair. A few petals sit softly on her shoulders, catch in her hair.
Everything about the portrait is spot on to the real Alix. Ripley must see her so clearly, to have gotten every single detail so right. But Alix’s eyes are the best part by far. So bright and beautiful, filled with affection and warmth.
The way they are when she looks at Ripley.
This is absolutely some of Ripley’s best work. Both portraits seem to breathe, to glow, to give off their own light.
Alix stares at the painting of herself, then at the painting of Ripley. She remains in stunned silence, speechless.
I have a feeling that I know what she’s thinking about.
When we asked artists to submit work for the exhibition, we told them they could submit anything, so long as it spoke to their vision of a bright future. Alix knows this. It’s mentioned in the show statement, which she’s emailed out to countless press organizations.
So by choosing to show a portrait of himself, and one of Alix right next to it - Ripley is saying that his idea of a bright future is the two of them, together.
The message is definitely not lost on Alix, who still has yet to say a word.
Raj is right. This is a bold move, and Ripley is brave as hell for trying it. I’m staggered that he did this. I almost forget sometimes, because he’s so comfortable around us, but - he’s a very shy person. Sometimes painfully so, and especially when it comes to Alix.
And yet. At the same time, it makes perfect sense to me that he would do this. To take a secret, a hidden thought from his heart, and put it out into the world in the form of art - that’s a very Ripley thing to do.
He’s watching Alix from across the room, fidgeting with the stud in his ear, then the rolled-up sleeve of his dress shirt, then with his green curls. Nathan follows his gaze to Alix and breaks into a grin. He says something in Ripley’s ear, then gives him a little shove in our direction.
Ripley slowly, uncertainly comes over to join us. He stops by Alix’s side, runs an anxious hand over the back of his neck, then stuffs both paint-stained hands into his pockets.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
Alix finally manages to tear her gaze away from the paintings. She looks at Ripley, her eyes still very wide. I can’t tell if she’s blushing harder, or if he is.
“Hey,” she stammers, her voice a little raspy.
Her eyes go right back to the art, while Ripley’s eyes stay on her.
“You,” he begins haltingly, “You look - really-”
Alix turns to stare at him again, and he immediately swallows down whatever he was going to say. He nibbles his lip, looks at her with his eyes full of questions, uncertainties, nerves.
Alix meets his gaze, then looks back at the portraits, then looks at him again.
She takes his fingers, gives them a gentle squeeze. She stares into Ripley’s eyes, and her eyes fill with warmth, come to look exactly as they do in the portrait he did of her.
“Rip,” she says slowly, “Can I talk to you alone, for a minute? Like - outside?”
Ripley blinks at her, his lip pinned between his teeth. I think he’s holding his breath.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, his mumbled words very quiet. “Gimme a sec, I’ll - I’ll be right there.”
Alix gives him a small, warm smile, and disappears into the crowd.
Ripley watches her go, then whips around to face me, Raj, and Noah, his eyes enormous.
“Should I go?” he asks.
“What - should you go?” Noah sputters. “Holy shit, dude. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Jesus Christ, brother,” Raj laughs.
“Oh my god, Ripples!” I grab him by his face, startling a laugh out of him. “Of course you should go, yes, man!”
Raj reaches out to hastily straighten the collar of Ripley’s dress shirt, while I flatten down the one green curl he’d been fidgeting with. Noah gives him a slap on the back, then a push towards the door.
Ripley hesitates before he steps outside, looks back over his shoulder at us. He lets out an indignant laugh when he sees us all grinning at him, Noah holding two thumbs up high over the crowd.
He steps outside, disappears into the cool nighttime darkness.
Smiling to myself, I turn around again, so I can look at Ripley’s stunning artwork. At Aiden’s stunning exhibition. At the happy faces all around me.
As far as opening nights go, I’d call this one a success.
~~~~
The exhibition space is quiet again. The last few people lingering at the show are filtering out, and the bartenders are closing down. Melanie, holding a fast asleep Nikita against her chest, is whispering instructions to her staff as they break down the decorations that were only for opening night.
I step out into the back, the grassy area. Aiden is standing there, his elbows folded on one of the high-top tables. He’s gazing up at the stars, an exhausted smile on his face.
The colorful lights are still switched on, and Aiden is gilded by them, the softest tones of each shade.
His eyes drop to me, and his tired smile widens. He straightens up, reaches out for me. I go to him, lock my arms around him, and let out a happy sigh as I put my cheek against his chest.
We stand in silence for a few minutes before I pull back to look up at Aiden.
“I’m so proud of you,” I murmur, trailing my fingertips up his jaw.
He lets out a very soft laugh through his nose. “Stop it, Keane.”
“Mmm, no. Won’t do that. You should be proud of yourself, and I mean it.” I take Aiden’s hands, thread my fingers through his. “Do you ever think - like, really think - about how far you’ve come from where you were before?”
Aiden huffs out another soft laugh, his clear, steady blue eyes gazing into mine.
“I think about that, like - every time you look at me, man,” he says.
He used that voice that no one can argue with, said it like it’s a simple fact.
My heart does something stupid, trips over itself and slams against my ribs and begins to race wildly.
“Oh - Aiden, goddamnit. Goddamn you.” I press a hand to my chest, then lean the other on the table and sink my weight into it, closing my eyes. “Don’t say things like that, I - I don’t have my inhaler!”
Aiden laughs again, wrapping his arms around me.
“Don’t ask me to not say things like that, when it makes you sound like this.”
He closes his eyes to listen, and the expression on his face right now is so sweet that I just shut up completely. I bite my lip, then close my arms around him.
We stand locked together for a long moment, in the cool, peaceful spring breeze.
The door of the Bright Future building is letting out a pool of warm light, but a shadow moves through it, and then someone steps outside.
“Jamie, Aiden!” It’s Gabby, and she’s got Noah, Raj, and Mel following after her. She comes striding towards us at a speed that should be impossible in her heels. “There you are! Team meeting, please.”
“Kasey, Will,” I murmur quietly, then move to make room for the ghosts as they appear.
Gabby stops at the table, looks around at those of us who are visible.
“Where are Ripley and Alix?” she asks. “I haven’t been able to find either of them for a while, now.”
“I texted them,” Melanie says, pulling out her phone. “Let’s see, did they not resp-?”
“We’re here!” someone calls.
We turn to see Alix rushing to meet us, pulling Ripley along with her.
They’re out of breath, all smiles. Ripley’s cheeks are a burning shade of crimson, and his curls are all messed up. He looks a little dazed, but when Alix trips over her heels on the grass, he catches her.
“Oops - sorry!” she laughs. “Did I step on you?”
Ripley shakes his head no, smiling widely at her.
The two of them stop in front of the high-top table we’re all gathered around. I notice that their fingers stay woven together, even after they reach us.
“Sorry,” Alix says, still catching her breath. “We were, um - getting something from my car. What’s up? We got Melanie’s text!”
“I want to say something to the team before we leave tonight,” Gabby answers, in a very serious voice.
We all fall silent, looking at her.
“I want to say that this, everything you’ve done, all those hours you put in - it all paid off.”
Everyone surrounding the table breaks into bright grins.
“This show,” Gabby continues, “Is fucking phenomenal.”
She smiles as noises of agreement and excitement immediately rise up from us. Then she raises her hands to quiet us down.
“I’m so proud of all of you. You’ve all worked so hard to make this happen. I know that everyone is exhausted, and I’ll let you go home and get some rest. But I have to say...” Gabby’s eyes slowly travel over all of our faces, and she smiles warmly at us. “The future does feel bright, right now.”
I look up at Aiden, into his sweet, happy blue eyes.
Couldn’t agree more, Gabby, I think, and lean back into my Companion Plant’s open arms.
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