If- Nina G. Jones Page 0,90

it a chance. Jordan had been speaking me up to Javier for so long, I wondered if he had been brainwashed to want me so badly.

I felt Javier kiss me on the temple, and then I heard the click of the front door. I went through the motions of saying goodbye to him, but my mind was still on the unanswered questions I felt I deserved answers to.

These past five years, every time I hit a milestone, I thought of the boy on the roof who told me I would make it. The boy who made me feel beautiful for the first time in my life. We were supposed to celebrate those wins together. Every time, the thoughts would be more fleeting. But even until this day, on opening night, or any time I had a big TV interview or a new campaign, while the thought no longer crossed my mind, it crossed my heart.

I decided I would conjure up that girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer from the boy who wanted to hide.

BIRD

IT WASN’T HARD to get in. But it was hard to find anyone who knew anything about WATT. I was careful not to out him. I was sure there were journalists lurking around just dying to get the scoop. But I asked around: Who was the mysterious WATT? Did anyone know who he really was? Did he live in New York City?

It seemed most people accepted his anonymity and it was hard not to sound overly persistent when I wouldn’t let the topic go.

What could I say? I believe WATT is my first love who saved my life and who I got off the streets only to learn he was bipolar and for him to vanish into thin air after we had made plans for a happily ever after? I understood, I was bordering on nutty. Let it go, Bird. But, that replica of the roof he painted, it was like he wanted me to see it.

The piece. It was an exact replica of the section of the roof he painted. For a moment I wondered if he just hacked it off and transported it by helicopter. I watched the surreal story of our love, and much like the real thing, the piece ended abruptly, our bodies intertwined in shapes and color, so you could not see where the bodies began and the environment ended. Just to the right of that, the red headed girl sat alone, and the guy was only painted as an outline in the distance, the brick underneath him visible. She was still exploding with brightness, but he looked unfinished.

“Does it weird you out?” A man asked as I stared at the installment, trying hard not to let my feelings consume me.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s just that her hair is red and curly like yours. That’s unusual. She actually looks a lot like you. And it’s quite erotic at points.” This piece, like many of his others, was, lucky for me, not a literal interpretation of the world. It was flat, much like a Klimt or a Van Gogh. He had penciled exact drawings of me before, usually on lazy afternoons when I was off from work, so real that I thought they had to be photos, but lucky for me, this whole show was more about color and shapes and the vivid way he experienced the world. It allowed me to hide in plain sight as I searched for him.

“Yeah. I guess it is.” Then I went to my usual round of pointless inquisition. “I wonder about this guy. Who he is. You think he could be here, among us?”

“It’s possible. Why don’t you ask her? Rumor has it she knows who he is. I believe she’s his manager.” The man winked at me and pointed in the direction of a middle-aged platinum blonde woman with a fashionably angular haircut.

“I think I will,” I said. I am sure the man was joking about me asking her, but this was the closest I had gotten to someone who actually knew him.

“Excuse me,” I said, interrupting her conversation. Yes, it was rude, but I just couldn’t wait.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment, privately.”

“Uh, sure.” She excused herself from the conversation and seemed both annoyed and curious. Her grey eyes, lined in heavy black eyeliner, fixed on my face; my one-of-a-kind features. “Wait, you’re Fly Bird, Fly!”

I smiled. “Yup. Bird Campbell.”

“So nice to meet you.” Now that I