Missing Things

an attempt to breach the void

Neil was behind the counter of the coffee shop when Carl walked in at the end of the day.

He was reading his book again and looked just as disinterested in being there as he had the previous time Carl had seen him. Stay The Night by Green Day was playing and Carl knew this had to be Neil's own playlist rather than Krista's.

Carl estimated that Neil was about the same age as him, but the way he held himself and dressed — today in black overalls and a black T-shirt — gave him an air of being an old-looking twenty-five year old.

"I came for the open house," Carl said, "but I don't know where it is."

Neil sighed and put down his book. He looked put upon. "It's on the second floor. I told Krista we needed a sign, but she said we didn't. That it was all on the website. But all I've been doing for the past hour is telling people that the open house is on the second floor. And it's not as if anyone is ordering coffee! It would be better if was at least making coffee and giving directions. But no. I'm a sandwich board without a sandwich. I'm luncheon meat."

Carl could tell that Neil had been practicing this monologue in his head for a while. "Well, at least it means people are interested in the art more than the drinks."

"The art isn't paying the bills. And I'd rather be upstairs with my art than down here telling people to go upstairs while not making drinks. I'm counting down until seven when I can close and put up a sign."

"You have art on display upstairs?"

"Yeah, I have one piece. It's for sale. It's a painting of a crow. It doesn't have any meaning, if you were about to ask."

"I actually wasn't. I don't really ask questions about art."

"I appreciate that. Everyone always asks questions like 'what does this mean?' and 'why did you choose these colours or that technique or this composition?' How the fuck should I know? I painted what I was feeling at the time! I don't know why I felt compelled to do it this way or that way! I just did it! You know what I mean?"

"Not really. I'm not really artistic."

"That's bullshit! Everyone's artistic!"

Carl laughed. "I promise you this isn't bullshit. I'm not artistic. My art teacher in high school referred to my painting of jalapeño peppers as 'deformed green bananas'. I am one hundred percent not artistic."

"What the hell does a high school art teacher know? One year they're teaching art, and the next they're teaching gym! Or maybe that was just my school. But you have the soul of an artist. I can tell."

"And now who's spewing bullshit!" Carl said, smiling.

Neil laughed. It was the first time Carl had seen him without a scowl. He was attractive when he smiled. Endearing, even.

"Yeah that was a bit of bullshit," Neil said, in a softer, more relaxed tone that made Carl want to stick around and talk to him instead of going upstairs. "But you like art and you feel something when you look at it. You can access a part of yourself a lot of people can't, and that's precious."

Carl wasn't sure what to make of this. On the one hand, Neil might have been sincere in his belief that Carl had access to a part of himself most people didn't. On the other hand, Neil could just be saying this because he was attempting to hit on him. And on a mysterious third hand, Neil could be sincere and attempting to hit on him.

Carl was fine with any of those possibilities. "OK, if you say so," he said.

"I say so," Neil said, with a soft smile. "Anyways, my painting is for sale. It's the only piece I'm willing to sell and it's only because it caused me and my ex to break up. I've been single ever since."

"OK, I'll look out for it," Carl said, now fairly certain that Neil was attempting to hit on him.

"Anyways, to get to the art space, take the elevator in the lobby to the second floor. There are signs up there. I'll be up after I close up and put up some signs. We can talk about my painting then."

He smiled in a flirtatious way, and Carl hoped he wasn't blushing as he said bye and left the coffee shop.