Beautiful Somehow

“Are you leaving already?” I asked, pulling a clean t-shirt over my head. “You’re usually here all day.” He was yawning, rubbing circles into his eyes with his fists.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ve got to get back home. Edison will be there before I know it. He’ll probably even beat me to my own apartment.” He stared at nothing for a moment before saying, “Where the heck are my shoes? How am I supposed to leave if I don’t know where anything’s at?”

I walked over to the welcome mat and picked his shoes up from by the door. “They’re right here. Have you ever thought of looking for things?”

“That takes too long. I’m fine doing things the way I do them now.” He took his shoes from me, slid them on his feet, and ventured straight into my kitchen. “I’m just going to whip up a turkey sandwich and then I’ll be gone, okay?”

“Whatever.” I walked over to where my easel sat by the window and tied a smock around my waist. Yesterday’s abstract painting was only halfway finished, but I had no desire or motivation to complete it. I placed my hands on the sides of the canvas and lifted it from the easel, replacing it with a clean canvas. I could still hear shuffling in the kitchen. “Henry!”

“What?” he yelled.

I hesitated, mulling over the decision. “Have you got a picture of Edison?”

Henry appeared near the window, his eyebrows raised. “Um, I think I have a selfie that I took with him at the party last night. If you wanted a different response, then no, I don’t.” He then grinned tauntingly and took a bite of his sandwich. “Why? Does little Vincent have a crush on Edison?”

I grimaced and sighed. “No, I don’t. I just think that his face is very…sculptured. Yeah, that’s it. Would you mind sending that picture to me?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird to be painting a portrait of someone you just met? Especially when they don’t know you’re doing?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere? And to answer your question, no, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s not like I’m going to hang it up on my wall and stare at it as I try fall asleep.”

Henry swallowed his mouthful and laughed. “That vaguely seems like something you’d do.” Before I could retort, he said, “Yeah, okay, I’ll send you the picture only if you include me in the portrait so I can put it on my wall and stare at a picture of my beautiful face.” I deadpanned. “Seriously, Vin, paint me like one of your French girls.

“Um, no?” I grinned at him. “Just send me the picture so I can actually get started on it. Now, run along, Henry. You don’t want Edison standing out in the cold! And don’t drive too fast—I know how reckless you can be in a car!”

I simply laughed when I heard Henry’s famous words of, “Go suck a dick,” and the front door closing. Just as he promised, Henry sent the picture on the way down and I gave a small smile at the way Edison’s smile crooked just the smallest bit. I enlarged the photo, set it down, and prepared the platter with the appropriate paint.



Henry returned to my house for lunch, begging me to make him burgers. The portrait of the two wasn’t even halfway finished, but he complimented it anyway. “You got the bridge of my nose perfectly right, Vin. Now, how about those burgers?”

“You left Edison in that barren apartment of yours?” I asked, setting the paintbrush down.”
He nodded, shrugging. “He’s a grown man! He’ll be alright. There’s a couch there for him, a television, and a refrigerator—”

“—with no food,” I finished.

“Like I said, he’s a grown man. He can buy food if he really wants some.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “That is so contradicting. You can buy food if you really want to instead of eating all the food in my refrigerator.”

Henry groaned. “Would you puhlease just make me some burgers? I’ll give you grocery money at the end of the week, I promise.” When I didn’t answer, he begged, “Please, Vincent. Puhlease?”

I sighed, shaking my head and walking into the kitchen. “You are pathetic,” I mumbled. Despite my statement, I opened the cabinet and pulled out a pan. I set it on one of the eyes and turned the stove on. From the corner of my eye, I could see Henry smiling in victory. “I hope you know that you’re eating these at home. I’ll even be nice and make four of them. Save two for Edison.”

Henry frowned. “What if he doesn’t want them?”

“Then, find a box, wrapped them up, put them in the box, seal the box—are you following?” He nodded. “Alright, once you’ve sealed the box, take it to UPS and get it shipped to my apartment so that I may eat them.”

“You’re joking right?” he questioned. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Yes, Henry, I’m joking. Think of how gross and polluted they’d be by the time they got to me.” I shuddered at the thought and took a pack of ground beef out of the refrigerator. “On a serious note, if he doesn’t want them, which I highly doubt because my burgers are irresistible, then you may eat them.”

Henry laughed and grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it up with the orange juice he’d left on the counter earlier that morning. “For a minute there, I actually thought that you were losing it.”