Chapter 18Liem
18
Liem
“We’re making photo frames today,” Uncle Gil announced with no pomp or preamble whatsoever.
Our lack of blood relation had never been so apparent.
“Stations have been set up at each table. For those of you who prefer to remain in your wheelchair or use your mobility aids, I’ve removed the chairs from a few stations, so just take one of those.”
Uncle Gil turned back to his sketch pad, on which he’d drafted a lesson plan on the way over here, and I beamed at him, approving of his thoughtful language, but he ignored me and stayed on task.
No, not a single shared gene.
Taking the hint, I left him to it and breezed around the room, chatting with the class participants and helping them get set up.
I thought back to the call Ari had received this morning that had led us to this moment. We’d almost finished eating breakfast together at the condo’s small dining table when Ari answered her phone and listened intently to the person on the other end, turned her wide eyes to me and Uncle Gil before she gasped, and declared that she knew just the two young men who could teach a class today.
Uncle Gil had begrudgingly agreed and mused out loud about the materials we’d need to grab from the hardware store, and within the hour, we were on our way to the Live Oak Community Center in Uncle Gil’s beautiful, older-model jeep. Jillie—the woman who had called Ari—was to the point and helpful as she let us in the front doors when we arrived. With its spacious rooms and hallways and meticulous cleaning protocols, the Locc was quite welcoming, but with its outdated wallpaper, stock depictions of the Gulf Coast and lighthouses mounted on just about every wall, and an unfortunate commitment to fluorescent lighting, it also was kind of drab.
I knew more than I should about the layout and décor of the place because of my minor B&E to get inside it when I’d been in Gulf Shores at New Year’s.
“Psssssst,” a voice beckoned from behind me. “Young man with the gorgeous tattoos.”
I pivoted on the spot, my new boots squeaking against the tile. Uncle Gil had pulled over at a store on the way to the Locc, insisting I pick up some boots after eyeballing the hole in my who-knows-how-many-years-old sneakers. He’d held back on his short but sweet spiel about safety when working with tools—the same one he’d given to me and Vinh a hundred times before—but I wouldn’t have minded if he had given the lecture. There were few things better than the experience of listening to someone speak on things from the rare platform of both passion and expertise.
I arched an eyebrow at the lady who’d called for me, wondering what her passions might be. “Yes, madam? How can I assist you?”
She delicately crossed her legs where she sat on the gold padded folding chair. “I was under the impression that today’s class was something… quite different, you see.”
Her makeup was expertly applied and her wine-red hair pulled back with a claw clip. It was impossible to tell her age, but it was of no consequence, so I nodded sympathetically. “Yes, there was a last-minute change because of a scheduling conflict. My uncle Gilbert has a different project planned for today, but it’s one I think you’ll still enjoy. He’s quite skilled.”
“Gilbert, you say? A strong name.” Her eyes tracked Uncle Gil across the room as he fussed with his tools. “Yes, I like that. It’s truly a shame that he couldn’t keep the original agenda.” She sighed deeply and brought her gaze back to mine, then offered me her hand. “Lenora C. Apworth, but you may call me Miss Lenny.”
Taking her hand, I clasped my other on top and gave her a tiny, formal bow to match her tone and was rewarded when her slight dismay turned to delight. “Liem Lott, at your service, Miss Lenny.” I squeezed her hands lightly before releasing them, and then she sighed once more.
“You would have been a lovely model, Professor Liem. But we can’t always get what we want, now, can we?”
I smiled at her warmly. “Maybe not, but it won’t stop us from trying, will it?”
She tittered and began fussing with the large pendant that hung low on her chest. “I suppose I’ll just have to campaign for a reschedule.”
“I have no doubt you’ll sway us all,” I assured her as Uncle Gil began his instructions from the front of the class.
“Listen up.” He cast his blue-eyed gaze around the room, his bald head gleaming under the lights as the dozen or so seniors scattered around the space gave him their full attention. “Someone will be in shortly with step-by-step instructions for those of you who prefer to work alone. For those who don’t, I’m going to demonstrate and talk you through each step. If you have a question, raise a hand or holler. Now—” He picked up his square of sandpaper and held it in the air. “I’ve already cut the pieces for you, but they need to be sanded, so let’s get to it.”
Giving Miss Lenny one more smile, I wandered to an empty station and followed Uncle Gil’s instructions, keeping a keen gaze on those around me for anyone who might be too shy to ask for help.
Around the time everyone had finished their sanding, a familiar face entered the room, holding up a stack of Uncle Gil’s photocopied instructions with a blank expression.
“Ire!” I yelled, hopping up from my seat and ambling over to her.
She very nearly smirked as she greeted me with a simple “Liem” before plopping the warm stack of papers into my hands. Then, casting her gaze around the room, she gave an even tinier expression that might’ve counted as a smile to a few of the crafters. She reached into her back pocket, pulled her phone out, and took a photo of the class before turning on her heel and leaving without another word.
“Odd girl, that one,” Miss Lenny mused out loud. “But no one has taken better care of my babies.”
A couple of ladies near her voiced their agreement before they all turned their full attention back to their assignments.
Before I had time to really reminisce about my very memorable run-in back at New Year’s with the odd young girl in question—Ireland was her full name—a man near me huffed in dismay as he dropped his frame onto the table. I put aside those thoughts and handed out the printed instructions before going over to help him.
By the time everyone’s frames were constructed, the class looked quite pleased with their work. And to anyone who didn’t know him, Uncle Gil probably seemed unaffected, but that wasn’t the case at all. His shoulders were back, his posture proud, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“Mr. Lott, could you grace us with your presence for a spell?” Miss Lenny called.
Over the forty-five-minute class, either by sheer magnetism or some quiet devilry, she’d gathered an entourage of men and women alike around her, all of whom turned to me with expectant eyes.
It nearly gave me pause, and I was not used to such a thing.
“How can I help?” I asked simply once I’d gotten close enough to ask without yelling.
She gestured to the frames spread out on their table. “These are lovely, but it did make us wonder… what will we fill them with?”
Cocking my head to the side, I hedged, “With whatever suits you. The natural color of the wood would be lovely with a number of subjects, though you could stain it as well.”
Humming to herself, she eyed my black jeans. “You’re an artist, are you not?”
“You’re an artist.”
Cool breath on my palm.
“Take care of these.”
The ghost of a kiss.
The mere memory of Cody’s words in my ears and his touch on my skin as he said them coated me in feeling.
“I am,” I agreed, having never felt more conviction in that statement as I did then.
She clapped her hands together delicately. “Good. I was hoping the paint on your britches wasn’t merely a fashion statement, though it’s quite a good look regardless. Now, Professor Liem, are you going to do a class for us to help fill these frames?”
I met the eager gazes around her, all of them seeming genuinely excited at the prospect, which was good, as I’d already discussed the idea with Ari. We were going to schedule classes for as long as the usual art teacher was gone.
So, with a hand over my heart, I directed my answer to their leader. “It would be my great pleasure.”
She smiled in triumph. “Good. We’ll be seeing you soon, then.”
Ms. Lenora C. Apworth made that sound like both a promise and a threat.
I adored her.
Once class was over and all participants had secured their frames for safe transportation, I assured Uncle Gil that I could find my own way back to the condo, and then I indulged in my favorite pastime.
Wandering.
The floor beneath my feet started as simple squares, my booted feet filling every one and a half of them as I went. They were so like the floors of the public elementary school I’d attended in Alabama, and I could nearly smell the pencil shavings and construction paper of the art room. It’d been my sanctuary before bullies and Vinh leaving for college made nothing safe. I eventually turned a corner, and the floor abruptly shifted to patterned carpet.
Continuing down the hallway, my steps muffled now, I heard music.
“Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra was drifting out of one of the rooms on this hallway, the texture of the sound so rich but with a hewn quality like from a vinyl record player.
I slowed my pace as I approached the room, but when I chanced a look inside, I only saw the casual, communal space of the Locc for a moment before it shifted, and memory took over.
Slowly, the music wasn’t coming from a lone vinyl record turning under a needle.
It was the sound of a live band finishing their set on the stage at a casino bar.
Leaning against the doorjamb, I succumbed to the memory just enough to see its impressions and feel its echoes, trusting my subconscious to have summoned me here for a reason.
Dad had been home from the hospital for two or three weeks at that point, my summer classes had finished, and I’d been slowly tiring of treading the waters of optimism and carrying the morale of my entire family on my back.
I’d been drowning—slowly and quietly.
I’d only felt that way once before, when Vinh had his accident. I’d been dealing with bullies, school being a tough place for basically everyone but especially for a kid like me. Vinh had only been out of the hospital for a few days and had decided to pick me up from school as a surprise. But when he got there, he witnessed a kid pushing me around. It'd taken less than a minute for him to reach us, and when the kids went running from him and the healing burn scars on his arm, I’d nearly drowned then, too, under the weight of that new understanding.
Of that knowledge that life wasn’t safe. That damage could find you anywhere.
It could come at any time, and it could present itself immediately or delay itself until later, and it wasn’t always as obvious as burn wounds.
Or a pair of strangers in an embrace, as was the case the first time I saw Dezi.
The record scratched just as I recalled seeing a mess of dirty-blond curls and heard Dezi’s voice, my heartbeat halting when I realized he was one-half of the couple in an embrace by the stage.
I’d seen him before, of course. Cody’s boyfriend. The first time I’d snuck into the casino bar to meet Cody after we moved to the Coast, Austin had been there. I’d only gone back because I felt the weight of being pulled underwater again, and it had gotten to me enough to want to see my friend Dezi.
And he had asked something of me. It was then that he’d told me he was leaving to work on the cruise ship, and Bree—his best friend he’d told me about on the phone so long ago—needed someone he trusted to look after her while he was away.
That task had eventually given me the lifeline I needed—the connection to someone in this new place that would keep me grounded. Keep me sane.
But that night, before I found and met Bree officially, I wandered.
I wandered Fortuna Casino & Resort, determined to know all its shadowy corners and neon-lit corridors in the fruitless, vague hope that surprise would then be less likely to find me if no places were unknown.
But that dimly lit stairwell behind Bay Hall… I knew it, and it had still managed to astonish me as I ground against the real Cody Desmond, both of our eyes wide open and beautiful, painful understanding between us.
The record spun and spun until I found the strength to return to the now.
Drifting away from the empty room, I meandered through the passages of the Locc until I heard my uncle’s voice. Curious, I slowed and softened my steps until I found him standing in front of a breaker box beside my third-favorite Gulf Shores resident, Ireland.
I had a feeling she would not find it amusing that my time with Miss Lenny this morning had almost punted her into fourth place.
She had a tool belt strapped around her waist and was gesturing angrily to the open breaker box while Uncle Gil listened intently before responding to whatever she was saying. Then he leaned over and flipped a couple of switches, and though I couldn’t be sure, since their backs were to me, she seemed to sigh in relief.
Uncle Gil leaned over and pulled out the frame he’d made as an example during class and offered it to her. She looked at it for a long moment before accepting it. He left a few moments later, but Ireland just stood there, her head bowed and the frame cradled in her hands.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, breaking me from my spell, and I opened the message.
Vinh
Any chance you can come help with the Fat Tuesday crowd tomorrow? I just talked to Ari, and she said she would help too. Might be easier to come back today so you don’t have to drive in the dark early tomorrow. Let me know.
My brother. So eloquent, even in text.
Me
Of course. I’ll text you when we leave. Love you.
Vinh
You too. Be safe.
“You like to lurk, don’t you, Liem Lott?”
I didn’t startle at the sudden voice, as I’d actually picked up on her soft steps and subtle lavender scent before she spoke.
I had a bit of experience with prickly introverts with charisma they wished they didn’t carry, so my shifting subtly into plain view and seeming disinterested had been a bit of a trap.
“Hello, Ire. I’ve really missed you, especially as you never texted me as you promised you would.”
She gave me a blank stare, pieces of her medium-length chestnut hair that had fallen from her ponytail framing her face. “There was no promise.”
I smiled at her. “Sure, but we can rectify that now. Perhaps you gave me the wrong number. Though, if you don’t actually want me to have it, that’s fine, too, of course.”
Studying me for a long moment, she held out her hand. “Phone.”
Complying, I handed it over and waited for a moment as she typed on it, and then her own phone beeped from her tool belt. She handed mine back to me before removing hers from its pocket without looking, then raised it to me to show the new text she’d received from an unknown number. “Happy?”
I took an exaggerated deep breath. “On dry land, safe and sound now. Thank you.”
Her intense stare roamed over me. “Not that it’s my business, but what happened to your face?”
It’d only been a few days since the parade, and I’d all but forgotten my minor injuries, my eyebrow not even needing a bandage anymore and my palms having healed quickly.
Flying onto a curb had hardly been the headline of that day.
Her phone beeped again, this time with three short sounds, and her poker face remained in place. “Out of time, so just text me the story,” she said but then, with a shrug, amended, “Or don’t.”
There was a tug at the corner of her mouth, so I thought she was teasing. Which meant she was going to be my friend. Clearing her throat, she said matter-of-factly, “Gotta dash,” before striding down the hallway.
She scanned her card at the door to unlock the exit and pushed the bar to open it, then scooped something up outside. She glanced over her shoulder at me, and with a brisk wave, she turned back to the day, tossed her longboard on the ground, pushed off with her foot, and literally rolled away.
The door clanged shut, and in her wake, I was left feeling almost… uncool.
I watched the door for several moments before turning and heading back toward the main doors of the Locc.
Jillie was sitting behind the reception desk, seeming more relaxed now that her day was winding down. She glanced up as I came to a stop in front of the desk and gave me a warm, genuine smile. “Hello, Mr. Lott. It sounds like class was successful today.”
Resting my forearms on her desk, I smiled back and nodded in agreement. “You have a lovely facility here, and the residents were quite charming.”
She laughed loudly, the sound traveling down the empty halls. “You’ve got that right. I hope you’ll be back? I’ve already had several requests for more classes from both you and your uncle. There was also, ah….” She paused and furrowed her brow as if contemplating whether she should continue.
I leaned in and tilted my head, curious. She couldn’t leave me in such suspense. “Yes?”
Some tension returned to her, but she smoothed her already perfectly done hair back and only grimaced slightly before continuing. “Well, the original class today was meant to be self- portraits. But when this month’s schedule of classes was posted last week, there was a bit of an uproar from some of the residents, and they voiced their concerns.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”
She sighed. “In summary, they said the last thing they wanted to do with their time was to look at themselves, so they requested a model be brought in for the class instead.”
I nodded in understanding. I’d taken similar classes over the years. “Mmm, figure drawing. That’s always a good one.”
“I’m sure it would be,” Jillie agreed. “But they had more requests regarding the type of model and, umm… how clothed they would or wouldn’t be.” Cheeks flushed, she added, “And honestly, I need to take a long look at the Locc’s insurance policies before I entertained their ideas further, so, yes, I am so relieved that today seemed to satisfy them.”
That explained some of Miss Lenny’s earlier comments, but I made the conscious decision to not think further on it for now. Glancing through the Locc’s front doors and to the quiet street outside, I turned my attention to another minor problem that had needed fixing for quite a while.
“I’m hoping to come back for classes, but I’m in need of my own transportation. Any chance you could direct me to a good sales lot?”
She considered for a moment and then straightened as an idea lit her eyes. “I can do you one better. We have a community bulletin board where residents post items for sale. It’s not uncommon for vehicles to be listed on there.” She reached under her desk and pulled out a pad of Post-it notes. “Leave me your number and email on here, and I’ll check the listings daily for you.”
I eagerly took the pen when she offered it to me and wrote down my information, doodling a happy little crab for razzle-dazzle at the bottom.
“Is there a certain kind you’re looking for?” she inquired.
I finished the crab’s toothy smile and set the pen down, turning my thoughts to Vinh’s old RAV4 and Cody’s truck before answering, “Something that has been well-loved but is reliable enough to not have my overprotective brother pitch headfirst into a pit of despair.”
Jillie smiled in amusement. “Sounds reasonable.”
We said our goodbyes then, and when I stepped out into the March sunlight, I was filled with excitement at the thought of having my own way to get back to Bay Springs.
To gazebo sunrises, the hush of the Bay, and the man who I was somehow both closer to and further from than ever before.