40
Sam
The Wechsler Art Center was more crowded than Sam thought it would be. Sure, it was an opening, but really, how many people came to these kinds of things? The answer was dozens. They flitted around the gallery, conversing one another and drinking wine out of clear plastic cups. They filled plates full of fruit and cheese from the buffet and peered at the photographs on the wall. It felt like the very kind of gathering that Sam would have gone to his grandma’s to avoid. But here he was, hovering near the door, all because he wanted to make amends with Ben.
Behind him, the door opened, and he was pushed further into the room. He took a deep breath and made his way over to the makeshift bar that had been set up. If he was going to be here, then he might as well have something to steady his nerves. The man behind the bar looked up at him, his gaze almost piercing, as though he could see straight through Sam’s soul. That could have just been his eyes, though. They were a blue so bright they looked like ice.
“Wine’s five dollars for members, seven for non-members,” he said.
Sam dug out his wallet and handed over the seven dollars. A bit steep, in his opinion, but he reminded himself that he was here to see Ben and try and patch things up with him.
A plastic glass of white wine was pushed into his hand. He took a sip as he walked away. It was sweeter than he had expected, but he wasn’t complaining. It was alcohol. At that point, he would have downed tequila shots if they’d been available.
Across the room, Ben was chatting with a tall woman with high cheekbones, who looked very self-important. She kept using her hands while she spoke, and nearly spilling wine all over her dress. In a way, she reminded him of his Aunt Harper.
“I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”
Sam turned to see Peter, looking slightly disapproving. That wasn’t necessarily surprising While he had understood why Sam had lied, he hadn’t been pleased with it, and he had more or less taken Ben’s side in the whole thing—not that Sam blamed him. Really, he took Ben’s side. He’d done something unforgiveable, and now he was here expecting to be forgiven for it.
“I figured it was the least I could do,” he mumbled.
“No, the least you could do would have been to let Ben enjoy tonight. It’s his night. He’s worked hard to put together this exhibit.”
“And I wanted to support him.” There was a defensive edge to Sam’s tone. He respected Peter more than his own father, but he was trying to do the right thing. “I get that I fucked up, and if he never wants to see me again, that’s fine. But I’m going to let that be his decision. Not yours.”
He walked away, downing the rest of his mostly-full glass of wine. Not wanting to intrude on Ben’s conversation, Sam slowly made his way around the gallery, looking at each and every piece. These were really good.
One photograph really stood out, though. It was mostly black and white, but had little green dots in places. He couldn’t quite tell what it was. Taking a step forward, he squinted, trying to figure out what Ben had captured. The placard with the title provided a little more information. “Winter Through the Lens.” Okay, so it had something to do with winter, but Sam still couldn’t quite tell what it was. It looked like he was staring through a kaleidoscope.
“What do you think?”
The voice made him jump. He knew that voice. Slowly, he turned his head to find Ben standing beside him, a familiar hyacinth in the button hole of his sport coat.
Sam’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Part of him wanted to kneel and beg for forgiveness right here and now, but he was fairly sure that would only push Ben further away.
“I don’t really know what it is,” he admitted.
A small smile flickered across Ben’s lips, only to die a minute later, as Ben seemed to remember who he was talking to. “I took it last winter, when we had all that ice come through, remember?”
How could he forget? He had been without power for a week. It had gotten so bad that he’d actually had to walk over to Peter and Emily’s house and stay with them. They had a wood burning fireplace, so they’d been able to stay relatively warm.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“There was this tree in my parents’ yard,” Ben said. “I walked outside and it was covered in ice that was as thick around as my pinkie finger. I took a few pictures of the tree, and then played around with it a bit. My sister told me to zoom in, so I did, and it became this.”
The entire time he spoke, Ben didn’t look at him, and Sam wondered why he had even come over at all. Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe he didn’t actually want Sam there at all, but he didn’t know how to say it? More than likely, he only had a few minutes until someone asked him to leave. Sam didn’t know if it would be Ben or Peter, who was staring at him from the opposite corner of the room.
“I see you got my flowers,” he said, pointing to the hyacinth.
Ben’s face grew clouded. “Yeah, I did. And if you ever send me flowers to my workplace to try and get me to make up with you ever again, not only will I throw the flowers away, but I’ll send the shards of the vase they came in back to the Press Room.”
“I…but I thought you…you’re wearing one of them.”
“Yes. I’m wearing one of the two that I kept because they were too pretty to throw away. But you can’t just send flowers in this grand gesture and expect things to be okay.”
Annoyance surged through Sam. “Did you even read the note I sent with it? I told you that I didn’t think everything was going to be okay. I just wanted to send you something nice, since I did something that wasn’t. Not to make up for it, but to say I’m sorry, since you didn’t want to listen to me say it before. I thought that maybe once you had some time to cool off, you’d be willing to listen.”
Ben pressed his lips together, then sighed. “If we’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to need more wine, and we’re going to need to go to the storage room. Meet me there in five minutes.”
He stalked off, leaving Sam a little unsure as to what had just happened. At least now, he knew there was a chance. Clutching his empty cup a bit closer to his chest, he headed toward the storage room. They were both going to need that wine.