Without family dinners at his place and without a strong relationship with my parents, it almost seemed like we had been deserted.
But every night, when I laid my head down next to Bryan’s, he would utter those three words that made me shiver with delight. He would tell me he loved me before sinking between my legs and showing me, and it was all the reassurance I needed. In those moments, when his tongue was coursing electricity through my veins, all my worries faded into the background, the issue with Ben and the money I was going to pay him, the debacle with his parents, and the fact that my parents had disappeared after I was no longer riddled with cancer.
It all faded to the background when it was only the two of us in bed.
I knew I wouldn’t lose Bryan if he figured out what was going on, but I was ready to tie up the past. I was tired of being reminded of John. I knew how terrible that sounded, but I was. Every time I thought of him, I thought of that moment when I was standing around the corner and listening to those guys threaten and kick John around. I can remember the moment they ran off with John gurgling on his own vomit. I’d rushed to him and pulled his head in my lap, frozen in my spot when his eyes had connected with mine.
It wasn’t until he took my hand that I was pulled from my trance. And I would always wonder what would’ve happened to him had I reacted sooner, had I not been so shocked at what was going on. I knew I had only knelt there for a few seconds before I called, but that was seconds wasted that could’ve possibly saved John’s life.
And as long as his past continued to haunt us, I would forever be reminded that I could’ve saved his life but didn’t.
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I carefully packed up John’s dual paintings in the shadows while Kelly dealt with the customers. She was really getting the hang of things, and I enjoyed how she interacted with the customers on the gallery floor. I watched as the customers left the store. Then, Kelly grabbed a broom and went to sweep.
“Kelly, hold off on that for a second. I want to talk you through something.”
The woman smiled at me and set the broom off to the side before she made her way toward me.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I want to show you how I pack up paintings in case someone wants it shipped to them,” I said.
“All right. Lay it on me.”
“They have three different options. Option one is the cheapest, and it’s a simple bubble wrap and envelope measure. You wrap the painting twice in the bubble wrap and then slide it into the padded envelope.”
“You just keep all this stuff lying around?” she asked.
“I keep enough of the stuff on hand to do a various amount of shipments every two weeks,” I said. “For now, that’s all you need to know. If you have to start ordering things, I’ll walk you through how to do it then. But most of my things are used on a regular basis, so they’re automatically ordered after a specific time period.”
“Convenient. Okay. What’s option two?” she asked.
“Option two is placing the envelope in an opaque hard case,” I said.
“So, you do the bubble wrap twice, stick it in the envelope, and then grab a hard case that fits the painting and stick it in there.”
“Exactly. The hard cases can be mailed out as is. On the envelope, you address it like you would any other letter. On the hard case, I have mailing stickers you can write the addresses on and attach in the proper places on the case,” I said.
“Where do you keep those?” she asked.
“Underneath the cash register, top drawer.”
“Got it. Now, what’s the third option? I’m assuming it’s the most expensive.”
“Yes, but it’s the only option we allow for overseas shipping, so that’s important to note.”
“Got it. What does it require?” she asked.
“You do the bubble wrap, the envelope, the hard case, and then you stick it in a wooden crate that’s padded with those plastic Styrofoam peanuts.”
“Oh, goodie. I inhaled one of those things once. Coughed so hard I thought I went blind.”
“That sounds absolutely horrifying. Don’t kill yourself on these things,” I said, grinning.
“I’ll try not to, boss. But, do you keep those kinds of crates lying around? That sounds like that would take up a lot of space.”
“Actually, I do. There’s a storage shed out back that’s weatherproofed. There are four sizes of crates and multiple bags of those Styrofoam killing machines. One painting goes in one box, and that’s it. I’m about to pack up these two paintings to be shipped to Barcelona, so I’ll show you how to do it.”