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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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If you would've told me Errol was really just a figment of my imagination, and practically ceased to exist once that indescribable bubble popped between us on Sunday, I'd believe it. I'd one hundred percent believe it.
I tried not to cling onto every notification and call I received, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't keep my phone as close to me as possible this week.
And he didn't outright axe me out either. In fact he actually messaged me on Monday to let me know he'd be busy for a few days, but of course my brain took that as "something's wrong" and ran with it. What was common sense anyways right?
I knew that wasn't true. Somewhere deep down inside, my little brain registered that it wasn't true, but on the surface? I couldn't tell the difference between this and an all out breakup.
"I think we should do a show." Atticus said suddenly as he shifted in that rickety wooden chair for the ninetieth time. It just made me think about all the times Errol shifted his weight in that chair, which was stupid stupid stupid... All thoughts did not lead back to this man. They couldn't.
"Atti," I spoke, using the nickname I knew would get him riled up a bit, "you propose this revolutionary idea every year."
That same creaky noise came from the wooden chair. "Yeah and you used to do this thing where you'd let me down gently. What's changed?"
I grimaced, instantly regretting the fact that my irritations were starting to seep through into a conversation they really had no place being.
"I just-" I sighed quietly, as my brain forced this vocal box to speak something more logical. "I just don't think I'm ready for all that again. Yet."
It was a statement that on the surface, my manager and art dealer would take for face value, but Atticus knew exactly what I meant.
"I don't mean to pressure you Atlas, but you've been in high demand for like the last decade. More than half of your usual customers don't even know about what happened, and I'm sorry to bring money into this every time but you know where the big bucks are. It's not in these passion projects you want to take on." Atticus spoke with such honesty that I wanted to hurl.
It legitimately took everything in me not to react off my oversensitivity and irritation. These were the kind of pep talks I'd run from.
"You do so well filling in for me." I tried to counter, dialing down the attitude.
"Yeah and people want to see the artist just as much as they want to see the art." Errol reminded me. "That's not something you can keep running from forever, not if you want to keep your finances as comfortable as they are now."
I thought about selling it all and moving into a tiny home, but Nyra living with me changed a few things. While I did live a more expensive lifestyle, cutting costs wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. I just needed whatever was comfortable for Dash of course- his health came first. Nyra living with me reminded me of the responsibility I willingly took on without giving it more thought.
