and pointed to a large piece of paper that hung from an easel.
“Just a concept,” he said. He twisted off the cap on two fresh beers. “I’m always trying to outdo myself. To challenge myself.”
“I like it. I like that it’s dark. Like penciled sketches.”
“Too bad everyone likes color,” he said. “Color catches the eye and attention. The black and white makes you stop and think.”
“Something tells me you don’t care though," I said.
“Never do,” Josh said with a wink.
He slid the bottle to me.
I caught it and took a drink.
“I started writing something new,” I said. “Nothing good or concrete, but something.”
“That’s good to hear. What’s it about?”
I shook my head. “I’ll show you when it’s done.”
“Is it about a beaver that swings a sword?” Josh asked.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Maybe a little.”
“And that makes me want to tell you what I’m writing about?” I said. “Sure.”
Josh laughed. “Well, maybe I’ll just take the lead here, love.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Follow me,” he said.
He walked through the entire apartment and went right for his bed. I was okay with that for both the right and wrong reasons.
The apartment was dimly lit. It was so comfortable and cozy.
Josh sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You know small pieces of my life,” he said. “And what you saw the other day just…”
“Delaney,” I whispered.
“Yeah. You saw the dates too.”
"I did,” I said. “Three years old…”
“Delaney was my sister,” Josh said.
“Oh, Josh.”
“Just wait a second," he said. He stood up. “This was a time even before you, love. My grandmother took care of me. I told you about me and her. I was a tough kid. She was painting. What it did for me. I also told you about her Parkinson’s. How one day she just started shaking and could no longer paint. But there was something in between all of that. I never talked about it. That was Delaney.”
“And you’re going to talk about it now?" I asked.
“I don't know what there is to talk about, Amelia. My father would come and go as he pleased. I think in my grandmother’s heart she truly believed one time he would just show up and be different. Because when he’d come back, he would be different. He would bring me something. Bring her something. He would do all the chores. Fix things around the house. Cook. Clean. Grocery shop. I could see this hope in my grandmother’s eyes that this was going to be a good thing. Until he would leave. But the last time he came back, he brought a baby with him. He brought Delaney. This little baby. She was six months old.”
“What?” I asked. “Where was her mother?”
“Dead,” Josh said. “Overdosed.”
“Ohmygod," I whispered.
“I’m not going to talk details, love. To put it simply… he showed up with a baby and left not too much later after that. I don't think he even had a second of desire to stay. Or to raise Delaney. Or to raise me. And when he left, he was gone for good. See, that house I used to mess with, that was his house. He met a woman who changed his life. And he started taking care of her kids. He loved her kids. He raised her kids. They were a happy family. Yet he left a family behind. One that he wanted nothing to do with. One that ended up whittled down to just me.”
Josh took a drink and rubbed his jaw. He stretched his neck and walked to the drawing I commented on. With his pointer finger, he traced lines around the drawing. I was addicted to him. Every aspect. The man. The artist. The person who was hurt. And the memory of the boy who protected me.
“Josh,” I said as I stood up. “What happened?”
“Cancer,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Amelia, you know that kids get cancer, right?”
I swallowed hard. “I know that, Josh.”
“Well… that's what happened. There was more than that. Some issues passed along from her mother. But it all just… it just attacked her body. She was there. And then she wasn't. It was so fast. I mean, you know, maybe a year or so. But still. The fastest year of my life. With doctors. Appointments. Medicines. Treatments. Hospitals. Special centers. It was…” Josh made a fist and gently tapped the drawing. “It just didn’t matter. It wasn't enough.”