Chapter Ten

To tell the truth, I’m not sure why I was able to muster up the gumption to actually attend the party hosted by the random lady who purchased miracle berries in bulk. It was a long shot for me to do such a thing even while I was back home in California where I would actually be interested in making friends and setting down ties.

Just go in, make your introductions, stay for half an hour, forty-five minutes tops and make a graceful exit, I instructed myself as I attempted to tie a double Windsor knot in the period appropriate narrow tie I had picked out just for the occasion. Don’t take it personally if no one really takes a shine to you.

Over the course of staying in Wisconsin, I had realized that there was a pretty severe cultural clash because people seemed to be put off by me.

This isn’t to say that I think I’m some sort of brilliant raconteur with undeniable charisma and animal magnetism. In fact, I’ve always felt a little awkward around people no matter where I go.

Still, ever since I landed in the Midwest, I had tried to be congenial and kind, but was still met with slight frowns and looks of disgust.

Maybe that was the appeal behind Caroline and her swinging sixties party; she was the first person to react to me in such a positive way.

Her apartment was situated right in the heart of the downtown area where I had first seen all the people milling about and enjoying their brunches as I drove into town for the first time. It was in one of the high rises right at the top. It dwarfed my apartment building by comparison.

Riding the elevator to the top, I took a deep breath and adjusted my tie for the millionth time that evening.

Why are you so nervous? I asked myself. It’s just a dumb party full of people who you’ll probably never see again.

Looking back on it now, I realize I must have been intuiting something that my brain could not understand in an intellectual capacity.

I knocked on the apartment door which was opened in a fraction of a second.

Caroline was a vision in a chartreuse tea length skirt. Her blouse was white with tiny yellow flowers dancing across her torso. It was so crisply pressed, I was surprised it did not shatter when bent.

“Please come in!” she said. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

She guided me through her small, yet well-kept apartment.

“Refreshments are just this way, let me make you a drink,” she said. “Do you drink old-fashioneds?”

Having never had one, I said “yes.”

“Oh, if you want to smoke, I’ll have to ask you to step out onto the balcony,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

Not being a smoker, anyway, I waved her apologies off.

“But I have provided cigarettes appropriate to the era for anyone who wants one,” she said.

She then gestured toward an appealing display of the longest, multi-colored cigarettes sitting in a metallic, yellow centerpiece. Even as someone who abhorred smoking, I had to admit, I was slightly enticed.

It wasn’t long before I realized that Caroline was a master of this hostessing business. I hadn’t been to this sort of party in a while. And by “this sort of party”, I mean one where I wasn’t absolutely ready to blow my brains out right then and there. The music played softly and gently. It was purely instrumental and nonintrusive enough that no one was required to shout over it as they had with every other “social gathering” I had been required to attend since moving out here.

If anyone was drinking outrageous amounts of alcohol, they would have been the odd man out as everyone seemed content to nurse their brandy old fashioned throughout the evening. This was an especially jarring change of pace, seeing as how denizens of my temporary location were prone to get falling down drunk as long as the booze was free at the party they were attending. I knew this even though I often left early since everyone tended to be in an inebriated state even as I came to the party right on time.

“Please try one of the finger foods I made,” Caroline urged me as she handed me the drink she had just made for me. “They’re authentic to the time period.”

Indeed. Spread out on the buffet table were cocktail wieners wrapped “pigs in a blanket” style in crescent rolls, asparagus roll-ups, onion soup dip paired with water crackers and a whole bevy of fruits encased in gelatin to name only a few.

“This really is a 60’s party,” I said.

Caroline brushed this away, but she was clearly flattered.

“I try to be as authentic as possible when it comes to my themes, but I don’t want to be anal about it or anything,” she said. “For example…”

She then leaned in and whispered giving up secrets of utmost confidence, “the nylons I’m wearing do not fit the time period! They are a polyester blend!”

I nodded in amused solemnity. Right then and there, I knew I had found a friend in Caroline. She was passionate about things, but she didn’t have a chip on her shoulder regarding the things that made her so impassioned. This set her apart from everybody I had met so far. I swore to myself that I would get to know her better.

Suddenly, something in her periphery caught her attention.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “How rude of me! You really must meet my brother!”

She turned her head in the direction of the individual who had distracted her from the riveting topic of hosiery authenticity.

“Jerry!” she exclaimed. “Please come over! I have somebody I’d like you to meet!”

Out of the crowd, a man appeared as if he had simply materialized out of nothingness. That is, it seemed that way because I was certain I would have noticed him beforehand even in a crowded room. He was a striking man with a broad chest and long, glistening, chestnut brown hair that he had tied back for the occasion. He was the sort of person who you could not tell if they were attractive or not. From one angle, it seemed that he was definitely a good-looking man. In another type of lighting, he seemed more run-of-the-mill.

“Jerry!” Caroline exclaimed once again. “This is my friend Ronald! The one I’ve talked so much about! I could not pass up the opportunity to introduce you to Ronald after I’ve gone on and on about him all day!”

I was a bit taken aback. We had only met that once at the Co-Op and she was already going “on and on” about me all day to this man? I wasn’t quite sure whether to be flattered or to be creeped out.

Caroline turned to me.

“I’m afraid I’m terribly rude to Jerry in that way,” she continued. “My friends are so compelling to me that I often forget that Jerry doesn’t know them and I’ll tell long, elaborate stories about them and completely forget that poor Jerry has no idea who these people are!”

I blushed at this revelation and took the hand Jerry offered and shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“You as well,” said Jerry.

Suddenly, Caroline’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

“I’m sorry you guys,” she said. “Another one of my guests just walked in and I’ve got to go through my welcoming spiel. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

And like that, she was off. Jerry took this opportunity to lean in so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath against me face. He smelled of sandalwood aftershave.

“She won’t,” he confided in me. “God bless her. She’s the ultimate hostess.”

“I can see that,” I said, glancing at the elaborate cocktail party around us.

“The way this works is that she’ll fully intend to come back and introduce you to everyone,” Jerry said. “But she’ll have three other tasks that come to her attention just as she’s about to get back to you and she’ll never get around to doing as she had originally planned.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of being the subject of all those uncomfortable introductions.”

Jerry laughed heartily at this, showing his back teeth (which were pristine by the way; my compliments to his dental hygiene). I appreciated this, because if there’s anything that shows you belong at a party, its having someone laugh in appreciation of what you said.

“In that case, I’ll be your company for the time being,” said Jerry. “So that you don’t have to stand alone.”

“Thanks,” I said with a smile as charming as I could muster.

In reality, I was eternally grateful. Parties had always made me anxious and it’s not like I like to use people as social props, but it was always nice to have someone standing in your vicinity so that you don’t look like a creeper.

“I have something to confess,” Jerry said.

For whatever reason, my heartbeat began to pound at a terrific speed. What could he possibly have to confess? It’s not like it could be any truly terrible betrayal; we had only just met.

“Oh?” I asked with subdued interest.

“I don’t actually remember everything Caroline’s ever told me about you,” he said. “In fact, I don’t even remember Caroline talking about you. Caroline talks about a lot of people. Sometimes I just tune her out.”

It was then my turn to laugh heartily.

“Hey, no problem, man,” I said. “I’m not quite at that point because I’m new to town and I have to listen to everything everybody ever tells me, but you’re her brother. You have carte blanche to do so.”

Two of the deepest dimples formed in Jerry’s cheeks. They looked like somebody had poked their finger into freshly risen bread dough. His impossibly white teeth rested in a very natural way. I could tell this guy had the capacity to be a total heart breaker.

“Well then, it’s good to meet you, in any case,” he said.

He then extended his hand in a manner of starting the introduction from scratch, which I eagerly took.

“I’m not sure I would have liked the idea of you knowing everything about me before I knew anything about you,” I said. “Caroline met me at work, so she hasn’t seen me at my best.”

“Oh,” said Jerry. “I know that one; you work for the Fresh Faced Co-Op!”

I grimaced at this. Of all the things he had to know about me, he had to know one of my least favorite things about myself.

“Not exactly…” I said with hesitation. “I mean, I’m sort of working for them right now. I mean, my company has me placed there for right now.”

“What is your company?” Jerry asked.

“It’s Green and Associates,” I explained. “It’s a consulting firm located out in California.”

“All the way out in California?!” Jerry asked incredulously.

I sighed. I would have to be explaining this to people every time I met them for as long as I was stuck in the Midwest, wouldn’t I?

“It’s kind of a tenuous situation that I’m only just getting accustomed to,” I explained diplomatically. “Basically, I’m out here for the predetermined amount of time or possibly more. It depends on whether or not we can start making any progress any time soon.”

“Does it look like you’ll be able to make any progress soon?” Jerry asked.

The muscles in my jaw instantly tensed up upon hearing the question. It was just another reminder how futile my task seemed. It was best if Jerry didn’t know that my whole livelihood could be riding on this one contract, though. That was a pretty intense truth to lay down on a person upon first meeting them at a cocktail party.

“It’s too early to tell,” I settled for saying.

“Well, that means that I’ll at least get to know you better,” Jerry said.

It was clear he sensed my hesitance and he was trying to make it better. I appreciated the effort, at least.

“You’ve definitely got to stick with me,” Jerry continued. “Caroline’s great, but she’ll wear you out if you’re spending all your days off with her.”

I smiled, but it was a sorrowful smile.

“The truth is, I’m not sure how many days off I’ll be getting,” I said. “I can’t reveal too much, but I’ve inadvertently signed up for a lot with this job.”

Instead of looking insulted or disappointed, Jerry smiled at me once again.

“Well, just make sure they don’t drain you,” he said. “I don’t know if you know about the culture of work around here, but they’ll try to guilt you into working unpaid overtime around an hour before you’re about to walk out the door. Never fall for it. If they peg you as a patsy, they’ll keep trying to take advantage of you.”

“Is that what they do at your job?” I asked.

“Not to me anymore,” Jerry said while maintaining his cool, camera-ready smile. “That’s the point.”

“What is it that you do?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind at all,” said Jerry.

And I could tell he didn’t. His already broad chest began to show signs of swelling with pride at the very thought of talking about his work. I found that admirable in a person. Having become accustomed with my coworkers at the consulting firm and with the lower level employees at the Fresh Face Co-Op, it had become far too apparent that many people worked as a method to get a paycheck and nothing more. So, it was refreshing to be standing face-to-face with a man who was not only comfortable talking about his work, but was eager to do so.

“I work in the art department at an advertising agency,” Jerry told me.

“So, you’re an artist?” I asked.

Jerry flushed a little at this description. I could tell he liked it from the way he was unable to keep his lips from extending from ear to ear.

“I don’t know about ‘artist,’” Jerry demurred. “I mostly do renderings for the clients, so that they have a general idea of what the firm is going for.”

He perked up very suddenly in that moment. His two eyes glinting with passion, but his whole visage exhibited a sense of seriousness, as if he wanted to make something very clear to me.

“But I do paint in my free time!” he assured me. “I’ve even sold a few paintings. I can’t live off of it, at least not with my current lifestyle, but it doesn’t really matter. I mostly do it for myself.”

“It sounds like you have the best of both worlds,” I said somewhat dreamily.

His enthusiasm for the subject had me in complete bliss. It had been so long since I had seen anyone so passionate about anything except money, ego and the acquisition of material goods. It left me in a sort of buzzed out reverie.

This must be what people feel when they talk about being “high,” I thought to myself. I have to get him to keep talking about his art. I don’t want to stop feeling this way.

“What kind of paint do you use?” I asked. “Oil?”

“Oh no, not oil,” said Jerry. “I can see why you’d think that though. Oil is one of the most popular types of paint, especially in a classic sense because the colors and the texture are gorgeous. I’ve been meaning to pick it up for a long time, but I’ve been hesitating. That’s quite the investment of time and money. Money’s not so much of a problem, but I don’t have much patience for oil. I’d have to wait days for just one layer of the painting to dry. By then, my head will be buzzing with a thousand other ideas for paintings I dreamed up in the meantime. It would be torture waiting to start and finish each and every one.”

“So, what do you paint with?” I asked.

“A little bit of everything else,” said Jerry. “When I was really young, I started out with water colors and I’ve tried gauche, which is basically water colors, only opaque. I didn’t find my true love, though, until I started painting with acrylics in high school.”

The way Jerry said the words “true love” was so emphatic, I knew that it wasn’t a mere turn of phrase. This was a man smitten with passion for his simultaneous hobby and career. I wondered if he was any good.

People passed us by in the most elaborate and authentic party dresses and lounge suits, but it became clear that the most interesting among them was this man even though he wore only a simple brown suit that was just a smidge too large in the shoulders.

All around us, couples began slow dancing as someone had put a Sinatra record on the record player. The whole room was filled with a sense of nostalgia for a time no one there had ever lived through. It wasn’t a nostalgia for a memory. Rather, it was a nostalgia for the lives we’d thought we’d live in our memories. The only exception was Jerry; the way his eyes glittered like jewels in the sculpted Grecian sculpture that was his face, it was as if he were already living the life he had wanted to live in his memories.

“I am in awe,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.

“Of what?” Jerry asked.

“I’m not quite sure,” I responded.

And it was the truth. Had I said this to anyone else, it would have been awkward, but Jerry released a mild grin that barely disturbed his five o’clock shadow peppered face but did so just enough to show his dimples. Somewhere along the way, this man’s genetic line had been blessed with the hidden quality of an exceptional face.

Don’t get me wrong, Caroline was beautiful and everything in a classic sort of way that you can appreciate in an old black and white photo, but Jerry emanated pure, sexy charisma. I wish I could have bottled it up and harnessed some for myself. Honestly, I’m not a bad looking guy in my personal opinion, but next to Jerry, I may as well sign a lease for a house under a bridge because I looked like a straight up troll.

“What sorts of things do you like to paint?” I asked him.

Jerry smiled sheepishly. I was embarrassing him, but I didn’t mind because the more I did so, the more I got to see his shy, sweet smile.

“You’re not interested in all that, are you?” Jerry asked.

“I am!” I insisted. “I mean, if it’s too personal, I don’t want to pressure you!”

Truth to be told, this was an insincere claim. Jerry’s paintings couldn’t have been that personal. He had, after all, sold a few. They wouldn’t be available for purchase and exhibition if they were too personal to even describe.

“No!” Jerry exclaimed. “It’s just that… this is a little embarrassing… It’s just that there is no unifying theme. Well, that is, there is no unifying theme for my paintings except for things that I find beautiful.”

“So, a lot of self-portraits then?” I asked.

Jerry laughed at that. I blushed. What had compelled me to say that? The old fashioned and the loose atmosphere of the party must have been getting to my head.

“No, no self-portraits,” said Jerry. “I’m no narcissist.”

“Really?” I asked. “I’d be if I were you.”

Where was all this boldness coming from?! Normally, I was as meek and mild mannered as they came. I preferred to keep conversations professional even between close friends of mine. There was just something about Jerry that made me want to get an intense reaction out of him. I just couldn’t mark which intense reaction: flattery? Embarrassment? Anger? All of them at once? All I knew was that I wanted to leave as much of an impression on him as he was sure to leave on me.

Thankfully, Jerry simply laughed at my cheeky, little, “joke-liment”.

“Thanks,” he said. “But I’ve really only painted a couple of portraits anyway and they’re not of actual people. Not really, at least. They’re based on real people. For example, I’ll be at a lunch break from work and I’ll see a woman with a really interesting face or a man who walks like water flows and I’ll think ‘I want to catch that in a painting’ and then I’ll pull out my sketchbook and try to capture as much of them or whatever it was I found compelling about them as I can. I’ll try to get five or six sketches and I’ll use them to paint a composite when I get home.”

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I felt jealous of those people in that moment. I wanted to have an interesting face. I wanted to be the man who walks like water flows (whatever that means). I wanted to be a person that Jerry found beautiful.

As far as I knew, nobody had ever found me beautiful before. At least, nobody ever found me beautiful before and was compelled enough to tell me. It’s not like my self-esteem was licking the floor, either. I knew I wasn’t ugly; my face was free of blemishes, I tried to make it to the gym every day (although not recently at the time since work kept me from doing anything that required a time commitment) and I kept up with my grooming and hygiene.  However, I could hardly imagine an artist being compelled to paint me. Just the very thought of it filled my stomach with butterflies.

I knew, however, that wasn’t possible. Jerry was already fantastically beautiful himself. The bar was set impossibly high.

“But that’s not really the sort of thing I paint all the time,” Jerry explained to me. “In fact, it’s really rare that I paint a person, if not for any reason than the fact that I don’t want to be the weirdo who stares at people during his lunch break.”

“What else do you paint?” I asked.

Jerry shrugged.

“All sorts of things,” he said. “Mostly small things. I’m fascinated by small things, the exquisite detail of them up close, like the bluish silver reflection of a paperclip or the crystalline salt on a pretzel. That sort of thing…”

“I would love to see them sometime,” I said.

Jerry glanced quickly around the room until his gaze settled on Caroline. She had become preoccupied with a rowdy gaggle of impossibly stylish people who had just emerged from the front door like a tear in a bag of flour. Without either of us noticing, the party had becoming increasingly crowded around us. It wouldn’t be long until we would have to navigate the place by shuffling sideways like we were moving on a narrow ledge of a very tall building.

“I could show them to you right now,” said Jerry. “That is, if you’re okay leaving the party and coming to my place. It isn’t far.”

“Would Caroline mind?” I asked.

Jerry literally waved my apprehensions away with a fanning of his hand.

“Honestly, I’m sure she’d be surprised that I managed to stick around this long,” he said. “Usually, I’ve ducked out by this time.”

A quick glance at the clock on the wall revealed that more time had passed than I had thought. We had been carrying on this conversation for more than half an hour and we hadn’t moved a muscle. I’m sure we must have looked very strange, because upon realizing that all that time had passed, I noticed that we were right in the center of what had become an impromptu dance floor.

“Well,” I said. “This is awkward.”

“What do you say we get out of here?” Jerry asked.

In my mind, I made a quick assessment of the situation as if I were going to say anything other than “yes”. I reasoned that I wasn’t scheduled to come into work the next day and that if I didn’t stay too late, I wouldn’t throw off my regular sleep schedule. Besides, hearing Jerry’s passion for the act of painting lit something on fire in my soul. It burned with a heat that simultaneously tortured and invigorated me. This fire would not be quenched until I saw them for myself.

“Let’s go,” I said with more confidence than I felt.