Short: Gary And Mary: The Artist and The Magic Paint Brush, Part 7.
Gary immediately began to setup to paint. As he began to pull paints and thinner from his bag, Mary was struck by a new terror. How was this going to work, she wondered. And within seconds she felt herself go heavy under the wait of worry and fear. Her thoughts and fears drowned out whatever Gary thought and she barely noticed when he’d finished getting ready. She steadied herself in time to force a smile. “Ready?” she squeaked in the most pleasant tone she could produce.
“As I’ll ever be,” Gary mumbled.
Mary could see his thoughts again and prayed another prayer.
“What should we paint?” she asked.
“How about the scene this morning from the front window of the bodega, you seem to love it. Right?”
Mary felt the sarcasm yet ignored it. Best to plow ahead, she resolved.
“Yes. Let’s paint. I need you to think about what you saw and felt, again. So, I can see it.”
Without trying and in a flash, Gary envisioned the rush and life he observed every morning, the honk of yellow taxis, the ever present jack hammer, old ladies hauling metal carts to the grocery store, children zipping between zombie like commuters, marching toward the train station, and the occasional morning jogger. Mary saw it all and understood why it enthralled him so.
“Ok, let’s go to work.” she said with great confidence.
Awkwardly, Gary grasped Mary by the handle, then set her back down.
“Trust me, I’m the only brush you need.”
“Well see.”
Then Gary firmly grabbed Mary once more and dipped her into liquid white and began to cover the canvas.
***
Over the next two hours, Gary and Mary jostled and argued and cut-in lines, mixed hues, layered paints, reworked faces, and added highlights. And when they were finished Gary stood up silently and marched out of the room. For her part, Mary was exhausted but content. She took one last long glance at the painting and dozed off.
***
Gary froze as he entered the studio. The two from earlier over around the painting, heads askew and pointing to various splotches of paint. He took a breath and moved to join them. And as he approached the back corner, the two turned to him.
“You paint this?”asked the colorful Latina.
“Yes. Just now.”
“How did you do that, bro?” inquired the tiny black man, his hand held open, palm up.
“Do what?”
“That,” and this time he pointed to the cascading colors of the people as they moved across the canvas.
“Yeah. It’s as though the the people are under water, but not. They’re rippling across or something,” added the lady. “It’s fascinating. I can’t stop staring.”
Gary didn’t know how to answer and he looked down at Mary hoping for a sign she was listening. For indeed Mary was listening and happy. And when she saw Gary’s concern, she winked at him.
“This street corner is what I saw this morning on my way to class today. People talk about the energy of New York. I wanted to show it.”
After a few more questions, proper introductions and photos, Gary began to pack. The Maria took the hint and went back to work. Wallace continued to pester Gary with questions. He followed Gary to the drying rack and back, stooped when Gary bent over to pick up his bag, and straightened as Gary shoveled the last of his supplies into the backpack- lingering over the two inch brush still on the easel. Gary hoped Mary was till reading his mind, and thought he heard a low, faint laugh a few seconds later.
Finally, exhaustion got the better of the man from south Georgia and he interrupted Wallace mid question, “It was really nice to meet you Wallace but I gotta go. Do you work in here a lot?”
Wallace looked disappointed, but answered the question, “Yeah bro. Everyday.”
“Good. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Gary responded, his hand out for a shake.
Wallace’s face lightened and he shook Gary’s hand. “Yeah bro. See you tomorrow.”
Gary grinned to himself and grabbed the paint brush, which he put into a side pocket of his bag, and started for the door. Wallace returned to his seat and found his headphones. And as Gary reached the thresh hold, Wallace called to him one more time.
“One thing bro, you can’t be talking on the phone in here. It’s distracting. Keep ya’ girl outside. Cool?”
A smirk filtered out of Gary.
“Cool. I can do that. My bad.”
“No worries bro. See ya’ tomorrow.”
THE END
