Page 50 of I Love My Mistake

“Really? I’ve done a little graphic design, too. What kinds of things are you looking for?”

“I want the app to look distinctly different from the cleaner, more sanitized designs I’m seeing.” He steps around to protect me from a group of loud teenagers who could have run into me had he stayed put. We pass them in silence until we can hear each other again, and he continues, “I’m not looking for clean lines and bright colors. I want more emotional designs, where you can really feel them.”

We glance at each other. There is something about this little moment that does something to me. I feel possibilities and it’s a very foreign feeling.

I smile to myself, aware of how many tears I cried, how many times I’ve taken a knife to the canvases, releasing fury and frustration - how I’ve left those slashes in as part of the aesthetic. Art is a perfect place to turn the unhealthy into healthy. “My stuff is pretty emotional.”

“Is it? Can I see it while I’m in town?”

“Ack! Now that is the number one most terrifying thing you could have said to me.”

“Will you marry me?”

I stare at him. “Okay, the second most terrifying thing.”

He laughs, and we keep walking. That was jarring. I steal a look at his profile. Something is on his mind and I can see him weighing his words.

“Well…you’re about to have a show, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Remember what I said about it being easier to share honest things with a complete stranger? Because really… who cares what I think?” He shoots a humble look my way.

I do, I want to say. Being around this man makes me feel calm and excited at the same time. Looking at the ground moving backwards beneath my walking feet, I take a deep breath. “Mark?

He hears the seriousness and we stop walking. I don’t meet his eyes. I’m looking instead at another dimension, at a place where I have more courage.

“Yes?”

“No one has seen my latest paintings. The owner of the gallery saw them on my phone, but live and in person? And see… when I show them to a whole room of people at once during the exhibit opening, I’ll be able to hide in the crowd. But with just me and you, it’s more intimate even than sex. It’s… showing you my heart.”

I lock eyes with him.

He doesn’t move. We communicate without words. My feelings are plain as day, alive on my face, vulnerable and open. If this man sees them anyway, then why hide?

He reaches out for my hands and takes them both in his, the warmth feeling so good to me. “If you look at it this way, it might help. But the decision is yours.” He takes a breath. “We’re two strangers who may never see each other again. There is nothing to lose because I can promise you that I would respect the privilege. I don’t step on people’s hearts.”

“Can I think on it?”

He smiles. “Yes.”

He lets go of my hands. I miss them the second they’re gone. We start walking again. He’s looking at the buildings around us, taking in the sights, and I think we must have gone past where he’s been, from his expression. I point to a store and say, “That’s Duane Reade. It’s like your 7-11 stores.”

“Ahh… Looks like it’s a drug store, too?”

“Oh. Aren’t 7-11’s drugstores? I’ve forgotten.”

“They’re more convenience stores. So, you’ve been to California?”

I nod. “My father played for the Lakers, so I was raised there for part of the time, but Momma preferred New York.”

He’s impressed. “Your father played for the Lakers?”

I smile and nod.

“Oh, watch out.” He points to broken glass on the ground, kicks it out of the way like his boot is a broom.

“Thank you.”