Epilogue
Joaquin
Murals are all about community.
With Ricky in a baby wrap, I supervised the latest in the requested designs, this one of a jar of peanut butter dancing with a jar of jelly on our favorite restaurant’s side wall.
I didn’t do the murals for money but for art’s sake.
For love. About three months after the baby came, I’d been summoned to city hall to talk about setting up a group to do murals in various locations throughout town.
There would be town funds set aside for supplies and any trades required to prepare a surface for us or whatever might be needed.
The painting would be done by volunteers. But they wanted to pay me, and I refused.
“Joaquin,” the mayor said, “we understand you’re busy with the theater and your family, but without you this just won’t work. We don’t have to do a ton of them. One a year even. Won’t you reconsider?”
“I won’t take money. This town has given me everything. I will lead the projects as a love offering back to all of you. Free. No pay. Final offer.”
They accepted it. So far, in less than a year, we’d done four, and several others were scheduled. We never had trouble getting volunteers. Everyone seemed to want to participate.
“Don’t you need to get going, Joaquin?” Tanner wiped his hand on a rag. “Your mate probably would like you to have a chance to clean up before the festival.”
“I hate to leave now.” I sighed. “But you’re right. Duty calls. You can finish up that section and we’ll have another workday next Wednesday. Do you like it so far?”
“Yes. It’s more than I dreamed possible.”
His mate, Godric, set down his brush and came to join us. “I was just telling Tanner that it’s lucky my treatments are working, or this realistic jar might send me into shock.”
We all laughed, but I had to get going. “You don’t mind having Ricky over for the evening?”
“Just drop him off on your way to the theater. Our sitter is glad to have him.” Tanner and Godric would be at the festival as well, thus the sitter.
Two hours later, I stood in front of the theater with my mate, watching the lights swoop back and forth just like in a premier from many years ago.
People dressed in suits and long dresses were arriving and going inside.
The festival my mate dreamed of was starting.
And so as not to steal his thunder, I wasn’t going to tell him my secret until we got home.
The reason I was not actually doing any of the mural painting, just the drawing and designing.
Just the size of a kidney bean, according to Quinn, our next child lay under my heart.
“At least one of our children gets to come to the festival,” I whispered.
“Did you say something?” asked Eryx.
“Hmm? Is that one of the actors arriving?”
It was, since all the best film festivals have celebrities.
And everything about our life was the best.