darling - [ joshler ]

six

(photo: studivation)

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joshua needs to go to the library today. he has a project for his class. he has to come up with an idea, or a theme,  for a series of paintings to submit for a final grade. joshua has no idea what to do. he decides to pull books for inspiration. maybe a week ago he would have picked the boy as his theme, but after their scene outside his art building, it's apparent that's crossed off the list.

he gets up from his table to gather more books, leaving his bag and other readings spread out as they are: pages filled with french and english texts, some blocked with full images of european sculpture and painting. joshua disappears between bookshelves and pulls down spines here and there until a slow, steady weight fills his arms. his uniform shirt is cuffed up to his elbows, but he wishes he had clipped his tie this morning. it's too in the way of all these book edges that press against his stomach.

as he's deep between the bookshelves, paused in front one and leafing through a thick volume on enlightenment era sculpture, a person approaches next to him quietly.

"t'as besoin d'aide?" he asks. need some help?

when joshua looks up, he sees the boy. he wears his uniform: his pressed shirt, his tie, his navy blazer. tan trousers and black oxfords. his eyes are kinder than they were last, but joshua does not fall for it.

"va-t'en," he whispers. go away. "i don't wish to be embarrassed today."

"no tricks today," he replies in a hush, and puts his runs his fingertips over to tops of books in the shelf next to joshua.

"ce n'est pas vrai." i don't believe you. joshua turns a page in his book and feels the anger rise in his chest again.

"you are only reading the wrong books," the boy says. his words sound so disfigured in english, and joshua craves them. "enlightenment is far too saturated. there is nothing... ah... how do you say... something new, particular?"

joshua glances up momentarily, and sees puzzlement on his face.

"unique?" he offers.

"unique. all enlightenment has been viewed too many times. art is best when it is new and undiscovered. it is beautiful then."

"art becomes famous for its beauty. enlightenment has earned its merit."

"merit?" he asks with knitted eyebrows.

"oh, merit," joshua thinks, "like réputation. it means that enlightenment art has been viewed so much because it is beautiful."

"ah, américain. i do not agree. fame is so weak. it means nothing. ugly things can be famous. your ronald reagan. president, is he not? i do not find him very beautiful."

joshua can't help but laugh quietly. the boy smiles back at him, his eyes large as he looks between joshua's. dimples shy on his cheeks.

"you speak about art like you know it," joshua comments.

"je suis de france," the boy says proudly. i'm french. "we know art. it is in our blood, if we go to school for it like you or not."

joshua admires how intelligent his eyes seem as he talks about his country. the boy looks back momentarily, glancing at his hands in the shelves, then back to joshua again.

"allons-y," he says. come on. "i will show you."

the boy comes to join joshua at his table. he has brought over these books from way in the back of the library that joshua would have never began to look for, and shows his loved frenchmen who all paint à la française. their artistry goes beyond their subjects, the boy says, it is how they paint the countryside, how they paint the french people, the color, the composure, the feeling that comes from them which makes them so unique. he smiled as he used the word, and checked joshua face when he had. joshua smiled at him too.

as they sit together and the boy flips through another book, joshua pauses a moment to only look at him. he sees the cool morning light flood in through the windows to touch his face, the way his eyes go over the paintings in the book, and the way his long eyelashes dust with light at the ends.

"puis-je savoir comment tu t'appelles?" joshua says suddenly, but in a whisper to keep quiet in the library. can i know your name?

the boy looks up at him with big eyes. it takes him a moment.

"je n'aime pas comment je m'appelle..." he hushes, glancing away. i don't like my name...

"pourquoi pas?" why not?

"non... ça ne fait rien..." no... it doesn't matter...

joshua sits a bit closer and lowers his voice more. the boy forgets the book somewhat to put his elbow on the table and simply hold his face as he looks at joshua.

"i can only imagine it to be something beautiful."

"non... pas terrible...." nothing great...

"s'il vous plaît?" joshua asks softly. please?

"ah," the boy shakes his head and avoids joshua's eyes. "je m'appelle tyler. je n'aime pas."

"tyler?"

tyler looks to him. his eyes are kind, worried, soft.

"oui."

"j'adore ça," joshua smiles. i adore it.