Small Victories
Zac drove around for hours, crisscrossing the better part of Austin just to keep himself busy so that he wouldn’t have to return back to the apartment and risk seeing Taylor again. He saw parts of the city he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before, but he couldn’t even bring himself to leave the safety of his car. He ate a cheap hamburger alone in his car and realized just how pathetic he was being. He couldn’t avoid Taylor forever, not as long as the two of them were sharing an apartment. Eventually, he had to return home and it wouldn’t be long after that before the two of them would have to talk.
But maybe not just yet. Maybe Zac could avoid a serious conversation for at least one more day. He knew it was unlikely, but it was his only hope.
Finally, he drove himself home and was relieved to see that Taylor’s car wasn’t in what had become its usually spot. He supposed Taylor had to work, which meant it would hopefully be hours before he returned home. At least now Zac could put a name to where his brother worked, he supposed.
Those hours would drive him insane, Zac was sure. He did have classwork that needed desperately to be finished, but something else was calling his name, nagging at his mind and begging for his attention. After making his way into the apartment, Zac changed into an old, paint stained pair of jeans and t-shirt and dug around in his closet until he found his box of paints. A little more digging revealed a canvas with just a few smudges of paint on it but nothing resembling an actual painting.
It wasn’t the best, because most of his supplies were at his parents’ house in storage, but it would have to do. He found the unused top sheet for his bed and spread it out across the living room floor and decided that was the best he was going to do for a makeshift studio. Maybe Monday he could book some time in one of the studios on campus and do some real painting…
Zac shook his head. He didn’t have any studio classes; there was no need to paint other than the need coursing through his body right then. That need wasn’t practical at all, but he knew better than to ignore it. He had to give in. He had to paint.
A few minutes later, he had sketched out a profile on the canvas and mindlessly begun to fill it in. He didn’t even want to think about who he was painting, although it was obvious. He was never far from Zac’s thoughts, and he was the reason Zac had felt that strong emotional pull to express himself on the canvas again, for the first time in what felt like years… maybe it was years, Zac realized.
He had just started to put more detail into the eyes, trying to get just the right stormy blue, when the lock turned and the front door creaked open. Zac barely recognized the sound at all and didn’t look up from his work, so intent on getting it right that he was oblivious to anything and everything around him.
“That looks… wow,” Taylor said breathlessly, suddenly appearing at Zac’s side.
Zac jumped in surprise at the sudden intrusion and his paint brush went flying. Taylor caught it, but not before it bounced off his crisp white dress shirt and splattered it with deep blue paint.
“Shit!” Zac exclaimed. “I didn’t—shit! I’m sorry.”
Taylor’s brow furrowed as he looked down at his shirt, then sheepishly held out the brush to Zac. “No, it was my fault, I guess. I didn’t realize how entranced you were.”
“Yeah, well,” Zac replied, taking the brush and dunking it into a cup of water. He felt his face heating up, embarrassed that Taylor had caught him painting what was clearly a portrait of him—or, to be more accurate, he supposed, of Jordan.
“Umm,” Taylor cleared his throat and began to unbutton his shirt. “I should, umm, get this cleaned up before it sets. At least I have a half a dozen more shirts just like this one…”
To Zac’s horror, Taylor rushed into the kitchen, rather than the small laundry nook off the bathroom, shedding his button-up as he went. At least he wore a thin wifebeater underneath, but that hardly made a different to Zac. Taylor still might as well have been entirely naked as he stood at the sink, running cold water over his shirt.
Zac looked back and his painting and sighed. So much for that. With Taylor’s appearance, all of his inspiration had been dashed, not at all comparable to the real thing in front of him. If he didn’t fear Taylor’s reaction, he would have smashed the canvas and destroyed all evidence that he had even tried to capture what he saw and felt.
A moment later, the washing machine kicked into gear and Taylor reappeared in front of him, still wearing only his dress slacks and wifebeater.
“I didn’t know you were still painting,” Taylor said. “I mean, I assumed. Or hoped. I kept meaning to ask; I remember how much you used to enjoy it.”
“You did too,” Zac replied.
Taylor smiled softly. “Yeah, but you were always so much better than me. Hell, you were better at just coloring in between the lines than I was. I guess that may explain a few things about us, now that I think about it.”
Zac didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just looked down and swirled his brush around in the dirty water.
“Look, Zac,” Taylor said, then cleared his throat. “I really am sorry about last night. I let some stuff at the club get to me. That wasn’t fair to you. I can’t… I can’t treat you like and expect you to comfort me like that when I’m upset.”
“We always used to share your bed when you were upset,” Zac blurted out, the memory suddenly coming back to him.
Zac hadn’t really understood at the time, being a few years younger than Taylor, but he knew middle school had been especially rough for his brother. When Taylor had cried himself to sleep over the teasings and beatings he’d received from close minded kids, Zac hadn’t thought twice before crawling into bed with him and holding him until he calmed down and finally slept.
Zac hadn’t thought about that for years… had practically forgotten that it had ever happened. He wondered now just how much that must have meant to Taylor at the time. Not much, Zac supposed, given that Taylor had assumed that Zac felt the same way as their parents.
“We did,” Taylor replied, sinking into the floor next to Zac. “It’s a pretty good likeness, but you really need more glitter on the eyes. I probably have some you could use.”
Not knowing what else to do, Zac laughed out loud at the absurdity of the entire situation.
“What?” Taylor asked, his eyelids fluttering in confusion.
Zac looked him up and down. “Well, maybe my memory just isn’t that good, but I don’t recall all of… this… back then. The makeup and everything.”
“Oh,” Taylor said, then shrugged. “You don’t remember the stage makeup from theatre? And yelling at me for getting it all over the bathroom towels?”
Zac laughed. He hadn’t remembered it until Taylor mentioned it. “Okay, but that was for theatre. This is… for fun?”
“Yeah,” Taylor replied. “It’s what I studied in college. Well, my major was theatre, but SUNY-Buffalo had courses in costume and makeup design, too. I didn’t really have a plan for the future, so working at a makeup counter seems to be the best use of my skills for now. I could definitely see myself as a makeup artist to the stars or whatever, though. But as for why I wear so much makeup and dress up the way I do… it’s just self-expression, like anything else. I did a few drag shows for fun in college, but that’s not really my scene. But dressing up and looking pretty… why not?”
“I guess that makes sense,” Zac replied, although he wasn’t entirely sure that it did.
“Let me get you some of that glitter,” Taylor said suddenly, standing up before Zac could ask any more questions to try to understand this enigma that was supposedly his brother.
Zac sighed, and pulled his paint brush out of the water. He dipped it into some silver paint and went back to work on Taylor’s makeup, feeling suddenly very self-conscious about his brother not only watching but contributing to this self-portrait.
Taylor returned a moment later with several pots of glitter and deposited them on the floor next to Zac. Zac picked up one that contained a brilliant sea green and examined it, deciding it would be a good place to start. To Zac’s relief, he turned away then and switched on the television.
The volume was low, however, and a moment later, Taylor spoke again. “How come you’re studying art history instead of studio art? Or hell, just being an artist somewhere?”
“Because that’s not practical,” Zac replied, parroting the line he’d heard from both Carly and his parents a billion times. “I can’t make a living off my paintings.”
“Have you even tried?” Taylor asked, his tone a bit more curious than judgmental. “And how can you make a living off boring academic studies?”
Zac shrugged. “Teach art history, I suppose. Just repeat the cycle. Like you said, I really didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Just did what was expected of you, huh?” Taylor asked, a tinge of some emotion Zac couldn’t quite name in his voice.
“Yeah, well,” Zac mumbled, not sure he wanted to continue this conversation. What did it matter? It was too late to change his plans now, and what was so wrong about sometimes doing what was expected of you, anyway?
Taylor cleared his throat, seeming to sense Zac’s discomfort. “I just think you should paint more, that’s all. You’re too good not to. And I’ve gotta say, based on how nice you’ve got me looking, you’d be a pretty good hand at makeup, too. Did you ever think about it?”
Zac turned his head and stared blankly up at Taylor. “Think about what?”
“Wearing a little,” Taylor replied. “Makeup, I mean. Even just some eye liner. Or a little gloss–not that your lips need it at all.”
Zac could do nothing more than stare up at Taylor in complete disbelief. Makeup was fine for Taylor, but for him? Zac couldn’t see it at all. Why did Taylor need to make him up, too? Why did they have to be so alike?
Then again… Zac supposed they were more alike than he wanted to admit. He still thought of himself as straight, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt. If he could come to terms with that, at least somewhat, what did a little makeup matter?
The fact that he hadn’t quite come to terms with that seemed fairly irrelevant to the conversation at hand.
“Okay, okay,” Taylor said, laughing at Zac’s expression. “But seriously, think about it. Just once; just to try it.”
“Yeah… maybe,” Zac mumbled, then returned his attention the painting. It wasn’t a refusal, but it wasn’t a yes, either.
The two of them sat in relative silence for a while, Zac working on his painting, adding more detail thanks to Taylor’s surprisingly varied collection of glitter, and Taylor watching television and occasionally making suggestions about how to do the makeup.
The longer they remained silent, the more Zac had time to think. He kept coming back to the previous night’s events and his remaining confusion over just why Taylor had been so upset. He didn’t want to ask, and yet…
“Hey, Tay?” Zac asked softly.
“Yeah?” Taylor replied.
“What, umm, what was that all about last night? I mean, why I needed to come get you so early. Not—not what happened after we got back here.”
Taylor’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes lost focus, not looking quite at Zac. “I told you. Didn’t I? I ran into Devin, my ex, and words were exchanged. It was stupid, but it upset me.”
Taylor’s words were clipped, and Zac had a feeling there was more that he wasn’t telling him, but Zac had no clue how to ask. He had no clue where to even begin. That little ball of jealousy at the slightest mention of Devin formed in his stomach again, and he hated it. He wasn’t supposed to be jealous, both because the relationship was over and because it was his brother.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Taylor said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than like he was trying to convince Zac.
Either way, Zac wasn’t convinced, but he did decide that it was best just to let the subject be dropped. Whatever had happened between Taylor and Devin, Zac was better off not knowing, if only just to keep his own jealousy at bay.
Without another word, he turned back to his painting, not at all convinced that it was a worthwhile use of his time. At least Taylor didn’t seem to hate it… or him. That was a small victory to be happy about, but at the moment, it seemed to be all that Zac had.