Shut Up & Listen

23. On the Way to the Show

[Damon George, 23]

December 3
9:24am

A dark chocolate brother in a white tee and white joggers sat on a stool in a studio without lights. Dark blue crocs adorned his feet. His hands, though moisturized, had become dry from the acrylic paint that would occasionally stain them. The sunshine bore through the large storefront window on the mysteriously warm December morning. He'd been there since the night before. Not having moved from this spot for hours, the pull of the locked door startled him and his brush cascaded across the canvas for only a second still making a mistake of lines. He cursed himself for the accident while looking out the window to see who was disturbing his meditative practices.

A tall honey colored man with manicured facial hair was peeking through the window with his hands covering the sunshine from both sides so he could see.

Dame pressed the buzzer on the wall beside him, unlocking the door for his father to come inside. "Oookay." He announced, impressed by the sight before him. He, before speaking to Dame who had already gone back to what he was doing before he was interrupted, showed himself around the gallery-esque venue admiring the work.

"It'll look different for the show Friday, I swear." Dame interrupted, "I got some people coming by tomorrow morning to put everything together. They're going to paint the walls, put the paintings up. I really want the floors done but that might be too much for now."

"Nah, it ain't too much. What? Is it expensive?"

"To get it pulled up and redone? Yeah. And I think it might be too late too."

"Nah, I know a guy. Can get it done by the end tonight if you want. I'll take care of it."

"Nah, i'm good. I don't need you throwing your money around."

He stared at his son, smirking. "You not above taking money. I know how you got that house."

"It was a gift."

"And so is this."

Dame was outdone, but still resistant, "You see all this shit in here?" He gave an excuse as to why the floor couldn't be done.

"Yeah, well. Imma let you get back to your thing." Maverik breathed out. "But before I go, you've been on my mind and so I been looking for you. I wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"Well, i'd like to talk to your face for one." He acknowledged how he hadn't turned to face him once since he came into the building. He found a stool and sat it near his son. Dame turned towards him after placing his paint brush in a tin of murky water. He wiped his hands on a rag he had hanging on the corner of the easel.

"How are you? I know a lot been going on."

Dame shrugged.

Maverik shrugged too, facetiously. Dame looked away with a slight eye roll. Maverik chuckled breathily and Dame blew out a heavy breath.

"So..." Maverik started, trying to get Dame to tell him anything. "I mean, how's fatherhood?"

"It's cool."

"Okay." Maverik said before tucking his top lip into his teeth, still looking at his second oldest son. "What about all this? You like doing it?" He asked referring to his craft.

Dame nodded, looking around. "Yeah, I like it."
He put his eyes back on his father, awaiting the next dead end question.

"You got anything else going on?" He asked. Dame just shook his head, fidgeting with the paintbrush he was holding.

"Dope." He answered, dryly.

"You sure you didn't have something to talk about?" Dame finally broke the awkward silence.

"Well since you brought it up," he sighed heavily, "Do you feel comfortable with me?"

"In what way?"

"I mean, I really want to be in your life again. I know that sometimes it hasn't seemed that way— but once we got the opportunity to be in one another's presence, just the two of us, I realized that I was all types of wrong."

"Wrong about me? What were you thinking anyway?"

"I wasn't. I was just running off of steam actually meant for my hard-headed sneaky ass sixteen year old son. I'd like to apologize actually, because you were right. He does deserve to have big brothers. He needs big brothers. And you've really effortlessly stepped into that role."

"That's... thoughtful."

"You're really thoughtful actually, Dame. Majority of our conversations have been arguments and I really really have been wrestling with that. I had to step aside and as I replayed everything, I came to see that I was the problem and that you were suddenly thrown into this big ol family and was just trying do what you could to step in and fill in those cracks before my house came tumbling down. I appreciate that. And, I" he sighed, "I wish I would've seen that before I lost another son."

"What do you mean? Lost another son."

"Maurice."

"Nah," Dame shook his head, "He's just angry. He'll get over it."

Maverik silenced himself from responding because he knew that Dame was only optimistic because he didn't know that what he'd seen between the sixteen year old and father was happening for years before now. He knew that there was a strong possibility that Maurice was really done with him this time.

"Has he been taking his meds?" He asked Dame who was housing the teen.

Dame nodded, "Sadè always keeping an eye out for him. She making him go to school too. He was talking about dropping out a little while ago."

"What?"

Dame nodded, "He was going through a lot. Sadè won't tell me much more than that and he don't really talk to me as much as he does her. But she's the oldest of a lot of siblings so she knows how to get people to talk to her."

"So he was gonna just drop out of school." Maverik mumbled. "He's so dramatic. Just like his mother."

"See, we're not gonna do that."

"I'm just worried about him. If he starts talking crazy again, let me know."

"I wonder how you talk about me when i'm not there."

Maverik pursed his lips at the accusation.

"I'm just saying, you talk mad shit about Lonnie all the time. Never said one good thing about him. You call Maurice crazy. What do you say about me?"

"Nothing."

"That's actually believable. To say things about me you'd have to think about me."

Maverik stood from his seat, looking around the studio. "I'm gonna call my floor guy, get him in here before five." He said to the floor he was staring at, "I'm sorry I made you feel like I don't think about you." He offered, "I'll see you Friday. At your premier." He waved to him, walking toward the door.

April 15, 2024