Epilogue
HENRY
“THANKS FOR CALLING” — Sonoio
It’s been a month since Kait’s big night at the Other Bean, and I’m proudly wearing a T-shirt I bought before I knew Kait was the artist. We really were circling closer to each other with every passing day.
There’s an enormous painting on the wall behind Kait, hung directly above her favorite table at the Bean.
“Kait, I haven’t seen this painting before. Is it new? There’s so much color. I love it. I’d even call it bold.”
The first wave of paintings she sold was mostly grayscale; the photorealistic stuff was all black and white.
She didn’t blame me. She said she hadn’t used much color lately, but I know the truth: she hadn’t used color since I—dammit, not since I broke her heart—so this must be an older painting she had stashed in the room of leaning canvases.
Seeing color creeping—no, diving—back into her work has been the greatest gift I never knew I needed. A continuation of our timeline, now happy and joyful.
“I love it, babes.” It’s a crashing wave, but instead of lots of shades of blue with white accents, it’s a blend of bold pinks, vivid yellow, and a rainbow of other brilliant hues, but somehow, it works.
“It’s called I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” She blushes as she says it, then looks at me and gives me the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and squeezes my hand tighter. I wish she still painted with the vivid colors she used to. I took that away from her.
“I got it back from the framer a few days ago. I painted it the week after the opening. I’m so happy that you like it.”
I lean in and plant a hard but sweet kiss on her lips.
She painted this colorful, happy painting after we found each other.
I’m going to keep my theory about the colors she uses to myself, but I’m dying inside, waiting to see what she paints after this weekend.
I’m taking her away to a cozy cabin with a fire and a hot tub.
Please let the next painting be colorful and filled with happiness, maybe even a little euphoric like I am.
I leave our table under the pretense of more coffee, and I quietly ask Duncan to set the painting aside for me to pick up later. While I wait, I think of how sad she was the first time I noticed her here and how seeing her day by day finding her happiness helped me too.
I need to tell her so many things. You’re beautiful. Your art is amazing. Thank you for trusting me again. You are my person. My life is total garbage without you. You make me happy.
Instead, I choose the absolute truth, and after a moment to make sure I’m wearing my big boy undies and summon some courage, I say it. “Kait, I want you to know something about me. It’s important.”
“Okay.” She puts down her spoon and gives me her full attention. It’s so much harder to speak with the full weight of her attention on me. I hesitate. “I’m listening.”
I take a second and a breath, wanting to get words to come out smooth despite my reservations.
“I am capable of love. I didn’t believe you.
” Eye contact is hard. “I’ve said the words to you and meant them, but something has happened in the last few weeks, something…
transformative. I know I’m worthy, but that’s different from looking at you and knowing I’m wildly, madly in love with you. I love you like—”
Shoot. Poetry is not my thing. I look at the painting and back at her.
“I love you like paint loves canvas,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek. I tell her every single day I love her. “I’m convinced now, and it’s an entirely different thing.”
“I know, Henry. I’ve always known, from our first conversation.
” I must look so confused because she clarifies.
“You don’t think of it as love, but the first time we ever spoke, you were an absolute wreck of an insomniac, paying three ninety-nine a minute, and you stopped talking to me long enough to send your sister cookies.
You were exhausted, struggling, and yet you stopped and took care of Saoirse.
You’re an absolute gushing fountain of love for the people you care about. ”
“I have more to offer than I realize.” I want to pull the sun out of the sky so I can offer it to her as sunshine on a dreary day.
“You always have, Henry.” She looks a little blissed-out, holding her tea in both hands, eyes closed and smiling as she snuggles into me. She’s not dismissing me; she’s just… content and, as always, my biggest supporter.
“No, Kait, I mean it,” I protest as I stroke her hair.
“It’s been a month, and I’m still giddy.
I don’t want to live without you. I miss you when I’m not with you.
I drop you off and drive home and walk back here, and it’s only a few minutes, but I miss you while we’re apart.
I dream about you. When I see something funny, I want to share it with you.
I see you, and I’m filled with impure thoughts and silly ones too. ”
“Henry, I know.”
We’re making absolute fools of ourselves in the coffee shop.
People are watching as we press our foreheads together and sneak a quick kiss.
I don’t need an audience this time, nor do I need Duncan to say it for me.
I say it, with conviction and no stammering and no question in my tone, “I adore you, Kait. Absolutely adore you.”
She gives me a peck on the cheek. “I adore you.” She pulls back, locks eyes with me, and says, “And I am madly in love with you.”
Duncan, the baristas, and the nosy patrons don’t even pretend they aren’t listening. They make a collective “awwww,” and I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t so happy.
“I love you, Henry.” She looks at me when she says it, and I’m overflowing with delight, elated at her words. I enjoy our mutual admiration society of two. “We should celebrate.”
“I may have made plans for a cozy cabin in Michigan for the long weekend.”
“I was thinking something more immediate, my place,” she says with a little lip lick that only I see. “Right away.”
“Oh, certainly. Of course,” I stammer, and she laughs.
Me: I’m a little cough cough under the weather and will be in late.
Julian: You really should see a doctor, you may need an x-ray with all the cough coughing you’ve been doing of late.
I sneak peeks at Kait, who has gone silent.
When we step outside, away from the bat ears of everyone in the place, she asks, “You’re quiet. What are you thinking?”
“This is what it feels like to be a Lucky Man,” I say as we make the short walk to the elevator. The door is barely closed before we’re on each other, making out and stripping and leaving a trail of clothes that starts at the front door.
“I love you, Kait.”
“I love you so much, Henry.”
“I love you more,” I say with all of my chest, fortified with the courage of my convictions.
“You are completely and utterly fucking ridiculous,” she replies, kicking off her shoes. “I love you more than you can possibly understand.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, stripping out of my jeans and T-shirt like they’ve caught fire. “Clearly, I love you the most.”
“But I love you with the power of a thousand blue giant suns.” I think that’s a lot, but I’ll look it up later.
She leans in like she’s going to kiss me and at the last minute nibbles my nipple through my cotton T-shirt.
“Oh, no you don’t. You can’t start there. You have to warm me up first,” I say, despite the cone of candor. It’s okay, she knows I’m lying—she’s got a handful of evidence.
The I-love-you one-upmanship goes on this way until there are no clothes left to shed. I’m about to pick Kait up and manhandle her into bed when she shoves me into her chair and proceeds to give me the most enthusiastic blowjob I’ve ever had.
I return the favor with gusto. I tease her in a way that’s only possible because I’ve just gotten off. She’s shaking as I edge her, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from screaming. She comes hard, writhing under me with her fingers pulling at my hair to hold me close as she does.
When she stops shaking, I stand her up, grab a blanket, and sit down in her undeniably comfortable chair before tugging her into my lap and covering us both.
“I was so jealous of this chair, Kait. A freaking Blue’s Clues chair.
You were always so happy to be sitting in this chair, sipping your tea.
I was jealous. Jealous of a chair, Kait.
So here I am, and here you are, and we’re in this chair together. And naked.”
“I would have been happy on a bed of nails as long as you were on the phone. It’s always been you, Henry. From the first time we spoke.”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“No, I’m not. The first time we spoke, Hunter told me that we would need to come up with an alternative story about how we met so we didn’t scar our grandchildren.”
“You’re joking,” I say, but there’s nothing about her tone that makes me think she’s making it up.
“One hundred percent truth. I wouldn’t lie about something so nauseating and sweet.”
“When it comes to you, my entire life is a series of happy accidents. It’s like the universe kept throwing us together. Jessica told me once that this thing between us wasn’t over, because I wasn’t happy and we weren’t together, and that was a tragedy the universe couldn’t tolerate.”
“We got lucky when Jessica—err, Hunter?—paired us up. You asked for a palate cleanser, and I asked for an adult, so I’m not sure why she connected me with you…
” Kait hits me with a pillow. “You are more overgrown child than adult.” She sticks her tongue out at me.
“See, totally grown-up, you’re right. What was I thinking, babes? ”
“I moved from another state and end up living above your favorite coffeehouse a block from you. I know Julian suggested this area, but still, it’s not like Chicago is a city of twelve people and one apartment building.”
“Did Julian not tell you this exact building was where he recommended you look?”
“He did.”
“And did he tell you the Bean has great tea?”
“I think so, yes.”
“So maybe the universe wanted you to enjoy your tea,” I say. Then I mumble under my breath, “And get railed on a regular basis.”
Kait shakes her head and laughs. Hours later, I’m dressed again and almost ready to go to work, while Kait leans on the doorframe, watching. “Henry, do you want to come over tonight?” Is this a real question? We’re together every night if I’m in Chicago.
“Sure, dinner? Movie?”
“Slumber party. Here. I’m itching to get some paint on a canvas. I’ll buy some groceries and make dinner.”
“Yes, please.”
I grab a bottle of wine on the walk home from work, and while I’m at it, I get some cheese and crackers, and of course, chocolate and a few slices of cake. It’s my job to spoil her. I knock instead of juggling groceries to get my key to her place out.
She answers the door, surprised to see me, even though I’m half an hour late. She has fuchsia paint on her cheek, bright yellow on her hands, and assorted rainbow colors on her fingernails and shirt. There’s a streak of cobalt on her earlobe.
“You, sir, are early,” she says and swipes at her cheek, adding a dash of petal pink to her skin.
“I had a late call from the West Coast, and I’m running behind. It’s past six.”
“Hells bells, Henrypoo, I got so wrapped up in painting that I lost track of time. I thought it was lunchtime. I didn’t start supper. I never ate.”
“I’ll order something, no problem.” This isn’t the first time she’s gotten lost in work and we’ve ordered in. I love it because she’s always bubbly when she’s lost in paint. “Am I allowed to see what you’re working on?”
She looks at me, thinks for a second, then sheepishly nods and waves me into her dining room art studio.
Art tornado might be a better description.
Five easels, a few lamps, a table stacked full of paints and brushes, stacks of clean canvases, two stools, and a Mac with two giant monitors on an IKEA desk are jammed into the room.
A drop cloth is down to cover the hardwood under the easels.
I’m taking in the chaos that is her artistic life when I see it. It’s at least three feet by four feet, and the canvas is awash in color. Her colorful canvases, my favorites, are usually a neutral or white background with bold paint colors. This one has a bright background and vivid paint.
The painting is only partially complete, but it’s us, not that anyone else could tell because it doesn’t show our faces.
We’re sitting in the park across the street, on a bench, Kait in my coat, me in my suit.
The background is trees and bold leaves falling around us to gather in piles around the bench.
It’s our moment from the night we met, sitting on the bench together, our bodies leaning into each other, and it’s filled with hope and promise and none of the fear I felt that night.
The colors are bright, almost whimsical. “This is beautiful. Your use of color in unexpected ways. It’s… it’s stunning.”
She positively beams. “It’s nowhere near being finished, but I’m happy with it so far.”
I had low-grade worry that the pieces after our reunion would continue to be the almost bleak, steampunk rust, metal, and rivets that she’s favored recently.
I’m pleasantly surprised to see the color in my birthday painting enhanced in this one.
Her artistry continues to grow, her color palette has expanded with her joy, and this painting is stunning.
It is photorealistic in that there is extraordinary detail to the image, but the color is surreal.
“Can we keep it, Kait?” If she sells it, I’m buying it. Our leaning in, the color, the tenderness between us, the way paint Kait is touching acrylic Henry. It moves me to have her painting us touching after waiting so long for it.
“If you really want it…”
“I do, love.” Her smile is radiant and grows as I lean in to kiss her cheek. “Does it have a song or a name?”
“It does.” She kisses my cheek and steps in close to wrap her arms around me. “‘Thanks For Calling’ by Sonoio. That’s Rule Thirteen. Always thank them for calling. Thank you, Henry, for calling. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” I nuzzle her neck, careful not to get any paint on my clothes. “We could do this all night, but I’m starving. I’ll order dinner while you work on getting the paint off your face.”
She wanders back in the kitchen and plops into my lap, kissing me. She slides her arms around my neck while I wrap mine around her waist, her lips brushing against mine as I sigh.
I lean back, close my eyes, and smile.
I’ve dreamed of her, longed for her, fantasized about her, pined for her, and survived bone-deep sorrow missing her, but nothing compares to the reality of holding her in my arms while she says, “I love you, Henry.”
“Alexa, play ‘Lucky Man.’”
The music fills the room. Kait smiles at me, and in unison, we both say, “Thank you, Alexa.”
I look at her, she looks at me, and we both burst into laughter.