Sunday, April 19, 2009
Painting Over The Cracks
“I think we should be together,” she said, suddenly. “You know, have a relationship.”I kept moving the wide paint brush up and down on the canvas, squinting at the surface to make sure the enamel was covering it evenly. I didn't want to talk. I was still having trouble blocking out the pain of my recent past with her. After a couple of awkward minutes, I said, “Let's just be friends. I don’t think I can be with anyone right now.”When she and I were together, we never fucked. I wasn't ready, I kept telling her. It got complicated, then it ended. I careened from one man to another in a tangled string of brief, unfulfilling relationships.I made us both some jasmine tea. Her lips pursed slightly as she sipped the hot liquid. I remembered what it was like to kiss them lightly. “What are you going to do now?," she asked. “Make art,” I answered. It was still the only thing I could trust myself to do well.