dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (11 page)

The painting was so intricate and three dimensional, it was as though I could walk into the mechanic’s garage painted inside it and ask for an oil change. There was a car raised on a hydraulic lift and two men were underneath it discussing something and looking up as if they found the issue. A little boy was chasing a ball outside the shop while his mother sat in a chair reading a magazine.

“This is crazy,” I said as I continued to take in the details. “How could he have painted this so small and made it so vivid that touching it and feeling the textures seem possible?”

Blake leaned closer and keeping his hand on my back he spoke near to my ear, pulling a chill from me. “I don’t know, but dude must have the patience of a saint. Can you imagine how slow each movement must have needed to be?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said as I turned to him. He was only inches away from me and our eyes danced across each other’s face for several breaths before I continued speaking. “So do you do anything like this? You seem to know most of the people here by the nods I keep seeing you give to others. Are you part of this art group?”

“Do I make boxes and paint miniature scenes inside them?” He smiled coyly, and I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t. But I do woodwork—carving, burning.” He stood straight and dug his hand in his pocket before producing a small wooden coin. “Here, it's my first attempt at woodwork I did when I was a kid. I take it with me everywhere.”

I took the coin from him and looked closely at it. “It’s a flat, round, piece of wood.” I smiled at him and his grin grew.

“Yes, it does appear to be doesn’t it? But it’s more than that. Imagine how hard it was as an eight-year-old to make this.” He took the coin from me and put his arm around my shoulder as he leaned to my level and held the coin up in front of both our eyes. “Look at the detail in it. I had many a cuts on my hands from creating this one little coin.”

I looked closely at the coin that held no detail. It was only a flat piece of wood. “I don’t see it, Blake.” I laughed.

“Well, that’s because I never finished it. I’ve kept it for all these years and I’ve never finished it because it’s a reminder that there's always something to do. Plus, I’ve never felt the image for the coin come to me yet. My grandpa told me this story of Michelangelo and how he waited for the stone to tell him what was inside it needing to come out. My grandpa said wood was the same way. So I have always listened to the wood and this little piece has yet to tell me what to put on it.”

Blake continued to lean over me and I turned to meet his face. He was watching me with such admiration. “That’s freaking cool, Blake. You’ll have to show me your finished work sometime,” I said as I patted the side of his face and rolled out from under his arm.

He returned his coin to his pocket and asked, “So how about you? Do you draw, whittle wood… paint?”

I laughed, “No, absolutely not. My mind doesn’t work in the visual. I love music, but that’s where my creativity stops.”

“Well from what I saw last night, you’re very talented. How long have you played?” He asked as he walked toward another box.

“I’ve played since I was ten. My dad started to teach me at that age, and he died shortly after I turned eleven. I took a few years off before I decided I had to keep learning because I had shared it with him. I needed to continue with it.” I let my voice trail off at the end and focused on the box in front of me. The image painted inside was of a field with a road leading into the woods. A lone figure stood on the road at the entrance of the woods.

“This one makes me uncomfortable and at peace at the same time,” Blake said as he looked into the box alongside me.

“Why does it make you uncomfortable?” I asked.

“Well, because the person’s alone, but it’s peaceful because they seem to bravely face it. There isn’t any fear in that, but you still know that it’s going to be a difficult trek to take through those woods,” he said.

I turned away from the box and faced Blake’s profile. I crossed my arms under my chest and smiled at the gentleness in his jaw line. “I really was wrong about you Blake. Goes to show jumping to assumptions can be wrong and I really do apologize.”

He turned to me and reached for my hand, and pulling it to his lips, he gave it a quick kiss, and then pulled me in for a hug. “Stop apologizing for being yourself, please. But you are most welcome, Brecken. I’m sorry for letting my humor get away from me and turning into a patronizing pig. You impress the shit out of me and I could never see you as less than amazing.” Then his arm tensed around me. “Shit, what the hell is she doing her?” he asked.

I tried to step away from him and see who he was speaking of, but he held me close. “This chick does not give up,” he said.

“What chick?” I asked.

“Abby. I used to date her. I broke up with her, but I've fucked up a couple times and ended up back in her bed,” he said matter of fact. I appreciated how candid he was with me. I never understood dancing around truths.

“I’m not going to judge you. Everyone fucks up, just don’t do it with me,” I said as I stepped back from him. “Where is she?” I asked as I turned to face the same direction as him, my back now pressed against his chest and I heard a sexy sigh flow from him as I leaned my shoulder back against him. He rested his hand against my hip and I didn’t notice it at first, which was unnerving. Things were too easy with him.

The girl from last night met my eyes before looking up at Blake. She walked toward us and she held a fake smile. She tried to show that Blake’s proximity to me did not bother her. I felt sorry for her as I took in her expression, but then she spoke.

“Hi, Blake. Who’s your friend?” she asked in a snide tone. Her voice felt like my ears were being cleaned out with sandpaper. Okay, maybe not that bad, but she definitely annoyed me.

“Abby, meet Brecken. Brecken, meet Abby,” he said without moving from his spot behind me.

I put my hand to Abby to shake hers and she gave me a false smile and shook my hand with an exaggerated squeeze. I laughed for a moment, before righting myself. I nodded to her as I took my hand back and placed it on my hip, just below Blake’s.

Blake still remained behind me and it was as if I was guarding him as a dog guards its food. But Abby didn’t care. She looked past me now and straight at Blake. “Well, the two of you have a good time,” she said before turning away from us. She walked with a punctuated click to her step.

“She seems… nice,” I said as I turned to face Blake.

He rolled his eyes as he put his hands in his pockets. “I guess that’s an okay word to describe her. I’m just thankful she didn’t stick around long.”

“Awe. Shouldn’t you be flattered she’s chasing after you? That’s what women are supposed to think is hot— when men do it.” I laughed.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Well, think of it this way. In movies the guy always fucks up the romance. The girl leaves. The guy chases after her with flowers and all of a sudden the world is roses and sunshine. Hollywood tells us women are easily bought.” I raised my own eyebrow now. “But in your situation Blakey, you have a girl you didn’t want to be with anymore. You dumped her, now she’s trying to win you back. It should be romantic.”

“No, I don’t work that way,” he said with a low laugh. “I’m not a chaser and I don't find her chasing after me romantic either.”

“Neither am I,” I said. “I’m more of a runner.” I winked.

He leaned toward me to whisper something, but feedback from the microphone broke the moment for us. He stepped away from me and his smile filled his face.

We stood quietly near the wall of the large room and watched as people stepped closer to the stage. Some of them I knew from playing out with the band and others I recognized as my brother’s friends. Then my brother walked into the room.

He looked so much like my father.

Emmet saw me and smiled as he walked toward us. He was giving Blake an expression that said his big brother protectiveness was beginning. Blake turned his head back and forth between the two of us.

I leaned toward him to quietly say, “It’s my brother, Emmet.”

He gave me a nod before looking back toward my brother. I could tell he intimidated Blake, and it made me smile. My brother was a big guy. Conall was given his height from him, who inherited it from our father. I unfortunately took after my mom.

I leaned up to Emmet, pulled him into a hug, and whispering into his ear I said, “Be gentle. I think he might become more to me.”

Emmet knew what I meant by that. I never settled for anything less than more in all things. I never did half-assed anymore.

He pulled me out to arm’s length and gave me a wink before putting his hand to Blake. “Hey man, I’m Brecken’s brother Emmet, who might you be?” he asked.

“Blake Lawson and it’s nice to meet you,” he said with that smile of his before he moved back to stand at my side. He looked down his nose at me with a flirtatious grin. I made note of the raise of his one eyebrow—the left one that rose in question along with his left ear—when I saw that, I discovered something. Blake liked me. I wasn't just some new notch to be carved, he wanted to know me. He didn’t even flinch at meeting my brother.

“So where did the two of you meet?” Emmet asked with his usual slow way of speaking. I told him it reminded me of syrup one time and he laughed and said he got it from our dad—he was never in a hurry.

“We met last night at Henley’s,” I said as I took a drink of water and my nerves heightened as Conall took the stage.

“Oh man. I haven’t been there in years,” Emmet said. “Are you from around here Blake?”

“Yeah, born and raised here. My dad is the owner of Lawson Siding and Roofing.” He was speaking to Emmet, but kept giving me a glance to make sure I listened as well. I wanted to focus on him but I kept looking at Conall and the stage in fear.

“Brecken, why do you have your resting bitch face going on as you stare at my kid?” Emmet asked with a laugh, bringing my attention back to them.

“Well, because your son is pushing me to get on stage and sing with him. Why don’t you get up there?” I asked with a raise of my brow.

Emmet laughed, “Because Brecken, I suck and you know it. My son gained that talent from somewhere and definitely not from me.” He looked to Blake, “It was nice meeting you man, I’m going to go chat up some people,” he said as he walked farther into the crowd. His eagerness to leave the conversation was from my prodding him to get up and sing.

“Hello everyone,” Karl said from the stage.

Blake leaned his left shoulder against the wall next to me as we both watched Karl. I felt every breath he took as he stood that close to me. I tried to focus on Karl, but Blake’s breathing seemed to win. I leaned my left shoulder against the wall in front of him, which forced him to stand directly behind me. I couldn’t see him in my peripheral any more or I might just explode.

This was a mistake because now I felt him pressed against my back. I felt him inch closer to me and I could swear he took a breath close to my hair.
Focus Brecken.
This is about Karl, not hooking up with some guy. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, then opened them with renewed focus.

Karl fidgeted on the stage, and nodded to the guys in the band before he stepped to the microphone again.

“Okay. Hello again, everyone. I appreciate every one of you coming here tonight. These boxes aren't just boxes to me. They each hold a special place—a story if you will. I was going to say I hope they mean something to you too, but I realized we each have our own ideas on things. I just hope they affect you—whatever your perception of them might be. I don’t care if their meaning is wonderful or horrid, only as long as you open yourself to possibilities. That’s what each of us are here on this rock to do, accept the experiences laid out before us and find the connection,” he said as he rocked between his feet. It was crazy seeing Karl as a man. He was always an interesting kid, and then he became an interesting teenager. He wanted to save the world. That was why he joined the military. He held grand hopes of saving everyone.

“But now, I’m going to shut my mouth and stop rambling. Conall is going to sing a song I requested,” Karl said. “It’s one of my favorites and one thing I do hope is that each of you listens to the words. Thank you,” he said with a nod of his head and stepped from the stage.

My nephew took the microphone and he broke into singing an acoustic cover of Social Distortion’s
Reach for the Sky
. I always loved lower tempo covers of songs because they make it about the lyrics. I love punk. I love rock, but when it's brought to a raw level as this, the soul of the words take over the song. This is what I loved.

The song ended and small applause filled the room, but no one was zealous with it. It was a tough crowd.

“Okay, now for the next one, I want to ask my Auntie Brecken to come to the stage and sing a song with me,” Conall said from the stage. He over enunciated the auntie part.
Asshole.
“After that we'll start our set, unless anyone else wants to step up here and join us,” he said with a wink.

I turned to Blake before walking to the stage, and handed him my water. “I’ll be right back,” I said with a smile.

I turned to walk away, and he tapped my elbow with the back of his hand holding his beer. He passed the beer to his other hand and held both bottles between his fingers and seeing him do that simple motion made me shudder as I had when he made the furry speedo comment in our chat last night. He wrapped his empty hand around my elbow and drew me close.