A Different Light Page 11

  Frustration did not make the workday go by any easier. How had he let his mom talk him into doing this? She knew painting wasn’t his thing, or really any physical labor, yet here he was with a face full of paint and alone.

  He walked out of the upstairs bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom to wash the paint off. Bennett knew what had him in a mood. He hadn’t been sleeping well since the fight that he and Mac had five days ago. He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t exactly sure what it was he’d done wrong. Mac was the one that had lashed out at him. He hadn’t done anything.

  Bennett needed to call Jaden. He’d know what to say or at least listen to him rant.

  Face clean, he grabbed his cell out of the bedroom then walked down the stairs. He liked to play music while he worked, usually it helped the time pass by faster, but that day it hadn’t seemed to do its job.

  Night had fallen, so he knew he was alone since Mac was the only one that ever worked past sunset. And he stopped that days ago.

  Sighing, he made his way through the foyer and to the other side of the family room where the sliding glass doors were. Sitting out on the back patio on a quiet cool night was phenomenal after being cooped up with paint fumes in a small bedroom all day.

  Unlocking his cell, he opened the contacts and called Jaden. He knew his best friend was probably home, it being a Sunday night. The man was a homebody if Bennett ever saw one. Outwardly, he acted like the party boy, but in truth, he’d rather be home with a good book and maybe one of those fashion tv shows.

  “Hey, Sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  “Why do you think something’s wrong? Can’t I call my best friend to see how he’s doing? It’s been over week since we spoke last.” Bennett was stalling. Just hearing Jaden’s voice made him feel a little better. Like when you walk into your house at the end of a grueling day and just being in your own space makes some of the shit fall away. Jaden was like that for him. He was part of Bennett’s home.

  “Oh, please, you cannot play me like that. Don’t forget, I know you. You sound like someone kicked you in the nuts.”

  A laugh bubbled out of Bennett. He’d known Jaden would help, just by being himself. “I do not sound like someone kicked me in the nuts, shut up. Crazy boy.”

  “Sure, if you say so. Okay, oh-nothings-wrong-with-me-Bennett, what’s been happening at the ole homestead? Boning the contractor yet?”

  That time Bennett sputtered. Too close to the truth, yet still so far. “No, I’m not boning anyone, idiot. Why would you say that?”

  “Umm hello, hot contractor who is your sworn enemy. What makes hotter sex than hate sex?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Jaden. I do not hate him.” And Bennett didn’t hate him. He just had to wrap his mind around the fact that the memory he latched onto at those low moments, the one that he always reached back to, was now tied to Mac. The warmth and safety in the hand that held his, a memory that now was…altered. Altered by the knowledge that the hand that held his was Mac’s. That the only reason he got rescued and that he was even alive was because Mac cared enough to go check in on his parents.

  Mac.

  He still couldn’t get over that fact. How had he never known that the care and selflessness that Mac had shown that night was part of who the guy was? His naiveté back then was astounding, and in hindsight, even more glaring.

  “Hey, Bennett, sweetie. You’re spacing on me. What’s wrong? And don’t deny it this time.” Jaden’s gentle and concerned voiced reached through his thoughts.

  “I know we haven’t spoken in a little over a week. So much has happened.” Bennett walked Jaden through the conversation with his mom and how he confronted Mac about it, even the blowjob—No details, of course—and everything that followed, including their argument. Bennett knew he needed advice, but mostly, he just wanted someone to unload all of this on. He didn’t feel better about what was happening—or not happening—between them, but he felt a bit lighter sharing the burden with his friend.

  “You have been busy. Bennett why didn’t you text me? I would’ve found my way out of the lab to call you.”

  “I know, J, but I’m still not completely…I don’t know, understanding it all. I still don’t get why no one told me, why Mac didn’t want me or anyone to know. He did a good thing, a great thing.” Bennett paused, slowing his racing thoughts before continuing on a whisper, “He saved me.”

  Bennett could hear the rustling of something through the phone then, Jaden, whose voice was strong and sure but gentle, replied, “He did, but not everyone wants to be known as a hero. I don’t know this Mac but it seems like you two have some stuff to work out. Maybe you should sit and ask him these questions. Bennett, learn who he is now, not who you knew as a teenager.”

  “Yeah, I know.” But Bennett felt like maybe they weren’t meant to be friends or whatever they were. “Maybe we’re just too different, I mean look what happened this last time.”

  “Oh, you mean when you were patronizing and snobbish?” The disapproval clear in Jaden’s voice.

  “What are you talking about? I was not patronizing!”

  “Sure, you were. Answer me this. Why was your first thought that he couldn’t cook?”

  “Because its Mac. Mac does construction, tinkers with motorcycles at odd hours of the day, drives motorcycles with his best friend, and he…he has tattoos.”

  “Do you even hear yourself?” Jaden said incredulously.

  “What? Please explain to me what I’m doing, J?” Bennett was so lost. That was Mac. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t judging him. People were all different, he knew that, he accepted that. Mac just wasn’t the type of guy to be a good cook.

  “You are judging him based on what he looks like, Bennett.”

  “No, I’m no—”

  “Yes, you are. Not one of the things you said were things that would tell you he can’t cook or juggle bunnies or perform surgery on donkeys. You think he can’t because of a damn stereotype. You. Are. Judging. Him.”

  Bennett thought about that. Okay, maybe he had some preconceived notions about who Mac was but that wasn’t judgement really. It was coming to a conclusion based on the evidence provided.

  “And before you go off thinking stupid stuff, think about this. What about the amount of math it takes to do construction? Building and measuring is all numbers. Let alone the fact that he owns the company so he has to do the accounting.”

  He hadn’t thought about the math involved in Mac’s work. “I guess it would take a lot of math to build stuff.” He begrudgingly admitted. “But it’s not like—"

  “You’re damn right it does. Just because he doesn’t have a PhD after his name like we do, doesn’t make him any less educated or capable or smart. And you’re assuming he didn’t go to college. Or do you know for a fact that he didn’t? Do you even know how successful his business is? Or if he’s respected within his community?”

  “But that—”

  “Stop saying but!” Jaden growled. “You have no idea the amount of work, education, or skill that goes into work like that. Yes, it’s different than what we do. Yes, he could probably do it without a college education, but being a blue-collar worker is not something to look down on someone for.”

  “Of course, it isn’t, but I never said it was. I’m just pointing out that Mac just isn’t that kind of guy.”

  “What if someone told you that all effeminate gay men are basically chicks with dicks that want their holes filled by every man they see?”

  “That’s not true, so of course I’d be upset and correct whoever said that stupid shit.”

  “What if someone told you that a person that has tattoos wouldn’t make a good parent because people with tattoos are all criminals?”

  “I hear you, but—”

  Jaden continued like Bennett hadn’t even spoken. Again. “Are you really hearing me, Sweetie? Because you, my friend, are smart and very well-educated and one of the best people I know, but right now, you are acting like
an elitist snob.”

  That hurt. That his friend could think that about him. He wasn’t judging Mac, he had nothing against blue-collar workers or non-college educated people, he just didn’t think Mac was the domestic type. “I am not. Jaden, you are blowing this out of proportion. I admit that I have some preconceived ideas about who Mac is, but I’m not some asshole prejudiced person.”

  “Really, Bennett, because Mac wouldn’t think that. Did you ever think about the judgment others, especially in a small town way of thinking, have put on him over the years for how he looks, and now you turn around and—"

  Shit. Fuck. Damn. “Do exactly the same thing.” The realization that he could actually be compared to people who thought like that, hit him square in the chest. He just never saw it that way.

  “Yup. Imagine the fight he’s had just to gain whatever reputation he has in that town, just because he has tattoos, owns a motorcycle, and is gay.”

  “And I come in and make the same assumptions about who he is. I was one of those judgey people. I looked down on him because he’s not like me.” Bennett muttered, his chest hurt with the thought of hurting Mac, or anyone, like that. His mom would be so disappointed in him. “No wonder he got so mad.”

  “Yeah, Bennett. You were, and now you gotta figure out how to fix it.”

  He did. Bennett knew now that, what he thought was just taking what he knew and making an informed hypothesis, was really him being blind to his own judgement. And, to make matters worse, it was what he did when they lived next door to each other. He had constantly judged Mac on the people he didn’t hang out with, on the all black clothes he wore, and even on the fact that he had a motorcycle. He always just assumed, based on those things, that Mac had bad grades or a was bad boy when in truth he knew nothing about the real Mac. He only knew the Mac he created in his stupid judgey brain.

  They were both at fault for judging each other, as teenagers and most especially now as adults. Mac had obviously said some things in the last three weeks since Bennett had been back that had hurt, and he continued to lash out at Bennett, which he had yet to really forgive him for. But that did not excuse him on his own behavior. Like his mom had said to him, he needed to take responsibility for his own actions because he could not control the actions of others.

  “Thanks, Jaden. I’ll figure out a way. Maybe a simple apology will do it or maybe a gift like a cake or a new hammer.”

  Jaden chuckled. “Who doesn’t like cake or hammers?”

  “Exactly.” Jaden paused before starting again, quietly, “Sweetie, you know I tease you all the time and vice versa then we laugh and joke about it. Maybe you should think about why you’re so reactionary to Mac when he does it.”

  Bennett answered with no hesitation, no need to think it through. “Because it’s just always been that way between us. He’s pushed so hard against me for so long that I think I’ve lost sight of why it started, or maybe I never even knew. I had never given it much thought before now though. But it’s gotten better, slowly. It’s not perfect, and maybe someday, he’ll be able to tell me why.”

  “Okay, keep me posted and do not hesitate to call me if you need me. I miss you, so I’d leave the city and travel to small town USA for you.”

  Now Bennett just had to figure out what the right amount of groveling was because he knew Mac wouldn’t let him off easy. Shit, if the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t let Mac off easy.

  Bennett went inside, ordered Chinese, and plotted his next move.

  He’d been sitting on his couch, remote in hand for hours now, just flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch. Nothing was working. Not even some of his favorite shows. Mac couldn’t get his mind to stop rushing to anger when he thought about what Bennett had said to him. It had been five days since then, and shit was still spinning in his head.

  That’d been his cycle over and over. When his mind wasn’t on the tasks of his job, it was filled with anger and hurt. Anger, because although he knew that what he’d said was typical Princess Bennett, Mac had forgotten or maybe was lulled into forgetting. They’d been having such a good week and then the kiss…he thought…things he shouldn’t have.

  Everyone had this attitude toward him. He’d lost some customers over the years when he’d shown up without a long sleeve shirt, his tattoos on full display. That was one of the reasons why Danny handled meeting with new customers who weren’t aware of his appearance.

  Allie had been dealing with it a lot more than he ever had. Not in her job, because motorcycle mechanics having tattoos was a given in most cases, but being a woman motorcycle mechanic threw some people. Being a non-gender conforming, tattooed motorcycle mechanic had made Allie’s love life a hardship to the point that she’d basically given up. Her differences made her life in White Acre near impossible at first too. No one got over her look, but most stopped harassing her.

  He always tended toward avoidance if at all possible. He wasn’t a push over, but why ask for trouble. He stopped talking to Bennett, even traded a couple days with Danny over at the Cole house.

  Mac couldn’t be there and not hurt.

  Sitting there wallowing in his emotions wasn’t helping. He had to do something. He walked out to the kitchen, grabbing another beer from the fridge and a donut from the box on the counter. Maybe the sugar would cheer him up.

  Instead of going to sit back down, he paced. Walking from the living room through the foyer into the dining room then through the kitchen into the family room. Round and round the circle that his open rooms formed.

  Then he felt that itch. The one that screamed for him to put paint to canvas. The one that pushed him toward the addition he’d built five years ago.

  His studio.

  It sat off the back of the house, so he walked back to the family room and the sliding glass door that had blinds built into the glass so that he could keep the contents of the room hidden from guests.

  Opening it, smelling the paint and feeling the heat of the sun still lingering in the room, even after dusk had fallen, felt better than anything he’d felt all week. This was his paradise. The place he sometimes went to get away from the world. Occasionally, he just sat in the lounge chair in the corner and looked out over his backyard and the woods beyond.

  He’d been wondering when he’d get the need to come out here. It wasn’t something he could force. The drive to paint, to bring life to his emotions, wasn’t something that always came when he thought he needed it.

  Three of the room’s walls were made of windows that ran from ceiling to floor letting the sun in all day, warming it. It was a bright room, especially during the day when the sun shined in, but it was a rustic room, all deep dark colors and hardwoods. More him than most rooms in the house.

  He had two easels set up at all times. Sometimes, he’d start on one canvas but lose the flow and path of what he was creating and have to move on to another. It hadn’t happened often, but often enough that he learned to always have a fresh canvas waiting.

  This was personal to him. No one was allowed in here. Not even Allie had been in this room.

  He never sold the paintings. They were him, they were his soul, his love, his pain, his anger. Everything laid bare. Maybe somebody would look at what he created and not see it, not see him, but just the idea of someone looking at his art made him feel exposed in a way that sent panic screeching through him.

  He picked his way through his supplies, realizing that a run to the store to replenish was definitely needed. Mac had always been able to paint. Sometimes they’d come out like garbage, sometimes the emotions he created on canvas were too painful to even look at it ever again. But he kept every single one he ever created.

  Looking at each one was like a mark on the timeline of his life. Telling him what had been happening at the time, what he’d been feeling.

  Opening the paints and grabbing his brushes, he started. Not knowing where he was going with it or what the end product would be but knowing the feeling he w
anted to convey. The glide of the paint on the large canvas helped settle him. This was his yoga, his meditation, his therapy. The feel of the brush, the glide of the wet paint, and the act of creating sent him somewhere else in his mind.

  Quiet finally pushed out all the chaos.

  Mac had no idea how long he’d been at it when the doorbell rang, but the sun was completely out of the sky and his canvas was full of mostly dark color with one bright spot in the corner. He felt lighter, like he could finally breathe. This had been what he needed.

  Now, to go see who’d be ringing the bell at this hour.

  When he opened the door and saw Bennett standing there, he swore his heart skipped a beat. Pretty sure it was because he was happy to see his face whether he was mad at him or not.

  “I know you probably don’t want to see me. I just need a few minutes of your time, and then, if you want me to leave, I will.”

  Mac stood there staring at him. Deep down, Mac knew he wanted an apology from Bennett, but the bigger question was, was he ready for an apology. Was he ready to accept and move past this? Mac wasn’t sure. The time in his studio had helped clear some of the muddle he’d been dealing with all week, but this conversation could undo all of that.

  Sighing, he stepped back, opening the door as he motioned for Bennett to enter. He had to at least hear the guy out. And it’d better be a damn good apology.

  “Let’s go sit in the family room.”

  As they walked through the living room, Mac realized that Bennett had never been in his house. At least not further than the front door, and that was only a week and a half ago. He wondered what Bennett thought of it.

  Mac had put a lot of work into making it his own over the years since his parents had given him the house when they moved out of state for his dad’s job. He was proud of the end result, and although he shouldn’t, he kinda hoped Bennett liked it too.