Pretty Young

David Thomson was a lucky man, luckier than most really. Best doctor in the practice at Sacred Heart’s Hospital, looks that made any woman swoon and yet still possessed child-like antics that made David, David. Born in England, his younger years were spent away from home at a boy’s boarding school, where he met his best mate, Peter.

Peter and David became friends from the start. Both having very rich and powerful fathers, they came up with the ultimate plan of rebellion; leave England to a new place to become what they wanted, and who no one else expected.

Today, David had the day off of work- lucky again. He sat in one of the three misshapen chairs the two men had collected in their tiny living room in their tiny apartment. Neither complained of the lack of space, they thought it cozy. Shelves that lined the walls held small treasures from around the world and old books in their first and second editions. On the wall space they had left, expensive art they had inherited from deceased family members hugged the sad walls, covering their crackling white paint. To others, this place was not suitable for anyone to live in, but to them, it was alright.

Peter threw open the door to his bedroom/ studio with a grin on his face and a paintbrush in hand. “I think I’ve done it,” he yelled. “I think I’ve created my work of art I’ll be famous for!” David slowly rose from the chair and followed his friend into the studio to be greeted by the smell of wet paint and a splattered canvas. “Isn’t it just marvelous?”

David raised a hand to his face then dropped it down again, “Well..”

“Well, what?! What’s wrong with it?”

“Well- what is it?” He gave the painting yet another once over and still failed to see the meaning of the blue and red splotches.

Peter was by his closet changing out of his tattered jeans and t-shirt for something not covered in paint. “It’s Patriotism. Elementary really, Watson.”

“Right.. Yet you’re not American.” David smiled as he returned to his usual chair, opening up A Portrait of Dorian Gray.

“And you’re not very social.” Coming into the room, he stopped and stared hard at his friend in disbelief. “That silly book, again? What is it, like the fifth time you’ve read it?”
“Don’t like Oscar?”

“Sorry, I’m allergic to the aestheticism movement. Why don’t you just come with Chloe and me to the city for a night out? French opera, 82 Club and some late supper- yes?” Chloe was Peter’s girlfriend who wanted to be an actress but for the time being was a waitress at the nicest restaurant in town. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t act if her life depended on it. Fortunately for Peter and David, this meant endless free meals at Le Nuit.

He pretended to think about it before returning back to his book, “No thanks.”

“Why not? You can definitely find someone here- what about that friend of Chloe, Kate is it? She’s obsessed with you, quite annoying really. But, I don’t want to get in the way of a good shag.”

“Is sex honestly all you think about?”

“Are you saying you don’t? In all seriousness, when was the last time you had-"

David set his book down and stared blankly ahead, “it’s a personal preference-"

“Oh god, here we go.” Peter leaned on the kitchen counter, already bored with this speech.
“It’s a preference to not go out and bang everything that moves. What would Chloe do if she found out about that stewardess on the plane?”

Peter was tying his shiny black shoes before he stopped and looked up, “She’s never going to find out... You know what high altitudes do to me.” David dismissed this thought with a laugh and continued his book.

“I guess it’s a no for tonight then?” No answer, Peter checked his watch. “It seems I’ll be running a little late. Listen mate- just think about Kate, Peter you? Don’t let that she-devil get in your way of you living your life. It’s all in the past now.” David’s jaw tightened as his eyes widened at the pages below him. Peter knew he had struck a nerve.

Before he could say anything, David already had his coat on to leave. “Mate- I’m sorry! I know you don’t like to talk about-” The door slammed shut, interrupting Peter as he was left in the silent apartment.