Free Between the Lines by Jane Charles

into his arms. “I thought this was about me getting some culture.”
    I thread
my fingers through his hair, still amazed at the softness. “I can culturize you
tomorrow.”
    “I don’t
need a game. Let’s do the next thing on your list.”
    “List?”
    “I’m
assuming you made one.”
    Actually
I didn’t. I was just about the check on what we could do. But, since it’s the
middle of the day, there is only a few options. “Okay then, we’re off to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
    Gabe
gives me a quick kiss, then drops his arms and steps back. “Lead on.” He
gestures to the door.
    Damn, I
could have stayed in his arms by the windows a bit longer. Okay, a lot longer.
Hell, I’d be fine not leaving the apartment and instead spend time getting to
know Gabe better and figure out where this is going. I’ve never felt like this
about a guy before. At least never this quickly. It’s like something deep
inside of me recognizes that he’s special. I’m afraid to let go, or even blink,
afraid it might disappear.
    I’ve
never been a romantic. Frankly, I don’t believe in romantic love, but I may be
changing my mind. There are forces at work here that I can’t begin to
comprehend.

 
     
     
     
     
    Gabe – 11
     
    So, this
is the Museum of Art. I’d heard about it. I just never got a chance to visit.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to the city since the summer before my
sophomore year of college. And, all my trips were with my family. Had I even
suggested coming here, Dad would have had me either seeing a psychologist to
make sure I wasn’t gay or had gone soft, or knocked me upside the head. No,
when we came to the city, these are the places mom and my sister went, while
Dad and I did “manly” things. He’s such a douche.
    “Oh,
we’re going to have to come back this summer.”
    Ellen’s
looking at pamphlet she picked up at the visitor’s counter. “Why?”
    “They’re
going to have Van Gogh’s Irises and Roses.”
    I’ve
heard of Van Gogh, of course, but I couldn’t pick out his work. My students
could though.
    Why the
hell did Baxter hire me? Even if I only teach English and writing, you think
they’d want someone more artistically minded.
    “Since we
are here now, where to?”
    She
doesn’t answer but strolls into a gallery, holding my hand. This is nice. We’re
not in a hurry to do anything, just simply being with each other, looking at
paintings, photographs, and sculptures. I’m beginning to tell how Ellen feels
about a piece of art just by her expression, before she says anything. A soft
smile and lightening of her eyes, means it’s something she loves and
appreciates. An odd quirk to the corner of her mouth and eyebrows drawn
together, means she’s perplexed by the piece and not sure if she gets it. Some,
she barely glances at, as if they don’t hold her interest. But, when she stops
and stares, frowning, I know she really dislikes a piece. I’m not sure if I’m
spending more time looking at Ellen or the art.
    I glance
at my phone as we exit an exhibit. It’s going on four. Hell, we’ve been here,
walking around, for three hours. I had no idea that much time had gone by. No
wonder my knee and leg are killing me. And, I’m getting hungry. I could go
without food and I don’t want to stop her because I’m loving this. Just
spending time with her, learning about the different artists because she knows
a ton about the work in this place and has a greater appreciation for it than
I’d anticipated. I’m having fun just learning all kinds of things about her.
But, if I don’t sit for a bit, my knee may give out.
    “Is there
a place we could get a drink?” I don’t want to tell her I have to rest the leg.
She’ll insist we leave and go back to the apartment. She seems more concerned
with my leg than me half the time anyway. But, Ellen is enjoying herself too
much, she loves it here and I’m not about to leave before the place closes.
    “Sure.”
She smiles.