The guys introduced themselves, the last one saying, “My friends call me Sam. This is the best job I could ever imagine.” He stepped closer to Matthew and said, “I kind of need to talk to you about something. Ya know, in private.”
“You aren’t going to tell him to kick me off the team, are you?” Skip teased. “Is Sam talking about me?” Skip pretended to be paranoid. “He’s pretty good. I saw his application. He’s replacing me, isn’t he?” His sense of humor lightened the mood.
“Naw, man.” Sam kicked the dirt as he walked toward Matthew, looking a little nervous.
Matthew turned his back on the others and let Skip put them to work.
“What’s up?” Matthew asked, after walking Sam to the side.
Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“Oh?”
“My dad.” He raked his fingers through his long straggly hair and acted as if he might hyperventilate. “I’m really embarrassed.”
“At the gallery.” Matthew appreciated the awkward position the kid felt like he was in. “Look. You don’t owe me an apology and don’t be embarrassed. Your dad is proud of you.”
“He thinks I’m a loser. He’s proud ofyou.”
“No. It might feel that way, but grownups don’t always know how to express themselves, and what I saw was a proud father. A father who loves his son and wants the best for him.”
“He thinks the only painting worth doing is painting a house. Every time he catches me working on a painting, he hands me a bucket of paint and a roller and makes me repaint my bedroom. He thinks he’s refocusing me on something that I can make a living at, but that’s not the same thing.”
“No, it’s not the same thing, but he’s not entirely wrong.” Matthew laughed. “It’s not easy making a living as an artist, but if you believe in your work and are authentic to it, it is really rewarding. That backup plan of painting houses might serve you well along the way.”
Sam laughed. “I’m getting pretty good at it.”
“There you go.”
“I understand if you need to fire me. We signed that paper saying we’d keep our grades up and stay out of trouble,” Sam stuttered through the last part. “The whole acting responsible thing.”
“I’m not firing you, Sam.” He cuffed his hand to the boy’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you for coming to me. I know that wasn’t easy. All I ask is that you do your best and for the right reasons.”
“Thank you for picking me to help with your project. I won’t let you down. This project definitely made Dad look at me different.”
“I remember from your application that you like to paint nature.”
“I do. Animals, birds, trees. Someday I’d like to live out in, like, nowhere, and just paint.”
Matthew smiled. “When I was your age, I sat up in my parents’ apartment and sketched every day.” He lifted his hand, pointing out across the city toward the water. “The skyline of the city buildings. The river. The sidewalks. Sometimes I’d just take blue and white paint and paint nothing but sky. Every little variation in it. I found peace in that.”
“I get it.”
“I know you do.” He could see so much of himself in this young man. “Let’s get to work. We’ve got something beautiful to share with this town.” Matthew lifted his hand for a high five. “I’m glad you’re on the team.”
“Thank you.” He slapped Matthew’s hand and then turned and ran to catch up with the others.
Matthew watched the kid, his old flannel shirt hanging loose past his hips, sleeves rolled up over a logo T-shirt. Tennis shoes unlaced; Matthew laughed at the inclination to tell him to tie them.
Skip sent Sam to work on the second level. That kid climbed the scaffold like a spider monkey on a mission.
Something good comes out of everything. Losing a couple of sales wasn’t going to make or break Matthew. Maybe he could bring Sam over to the studio to help gallery wrap a couple days a week. It would give him some extra money, and learning the skill to wrap your own canvas on frames was a money-saver that would help on his journey, unless he really did become a house painter. The thought of that made him a little depressed.
Matthew’s phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Travis. Now he felt as nervous as Sam had looked just a few minutes ago.
“Good morning, Travis.”
“Yes. Every morning is a good one. How are you?”
