Page 69 of Sight Unseen

And now that we were a week into December and Cody was moving into my house in time for Christmas Day, I was gutted that I would be denied seeing our home alive with Christmas cheer as we decorated and put up the tree later this week.

I’d miss seeing Cody’s reactions to our first Christmas together as lovers.

I was also about to do something I’d promised Cody I wouldn’t do unless he was with me. I was about to call my father and find out exactly what had happened with Conchious Effort. I was surprised I’d made it this far without giving in to the burning question I’d had ever since I’d found out the real buyer.

As I sat listening to the ringing of a phone somewhere in a house in New Zealand, I thought that I’d at least followed some of my lover’s orders and given it all some time to process. So strictly speaking, I was only contravening one part of what we’d agreed.

I didn’t feel much better though. Inside my stubborn brain, a small voice told me this wasn’t a good idea.

The phone stopped ringing and I heard my mother’s voice for the first time in forever.

“Monica Powell here.”

I was struck by an old memory of the smooth timbre of her voice, the slight Southern twang that still resonated from her upbringing in South Carolina.

“Mom? It’s Nathan.”

I waited as she gave a long, indrawn breath. “Nathan? What on earth are you calling here for? I thought your father made it quite clear last time you were not to get in touch anymore. He was really quite upset by your conversation last time.”

My eyes stung and I swallowed back a lump in my throat. “Well, it’s December. Season of goodwill and all that. I thought I’d call, see how you are. Plus, I have something to ask Dad. Or you even, if you know anything about a sculpture he bought back in November.”

The chill on the other side of the phone was unmistakeable. “Oh, that.” Her dismissal and evident scorn should have been the trigger to put the phone down gently and walk away. Instead I chose the option of self-torture.

“Wait. I’ll put your father on. I’m sure he’d love to tell you what he did with it.” The phone clattered down and I closed my eyes, humiliation flooded my body at her complete lack of care for anything me.

The phone trembled in my hands and I reached out to put it down. Get back the impersonal dial tone and go back to my own life and, this time, forget I had family at all. Cody and his family were all the family I needed.

My father’s voice though made me raise the phone back to my ear.

“Nathan?” His tone was smooth. “I believe you’re enquiring after something I purchased from that gallery your queer boyfriend runs?”

For a moment I thought to put the phone down once and for all, but that stupid voice in my head said, “You know you can’t do that. You have to know what happened.”

My father continued, his tone gleeful. “Well, Trudy’s husband, Dirk, saw the gallery program online. He works in the art world too. He showed it to me.”

I still couldn’t find words. It didn’t seem to matter because my father had plenty.

“After the disgusting conversation we had on the phone last month, I wanted to make my point. Get my own back a little. I read the blurb which said how much this piece meant to you, how you’d overcome your blindness and still had the talent you’d apparently had before you had the accident, and how this piece was special to you. I thought I’d like to see what was so special about a bunch of shells cobbled together from mud.”

Sickness roiled in my gut at the mocking voice echoing in my head. Like a deer in headlights, I simply stood and waited for the impact that would kill me.

“And when I got it here, we looked at it and wondered what all the fuss had been about. Then I took it outside and put it in the garbage. I think it’s been taken away now. You see, I told the gallery I’d look after it and make sure it was placed where it belonged. I used a different name to buy it so your boyfriend wouldn’t realize it was me straight away. He would no doubt have made things difficult for me to purchase the piece if he knew. I was going to send the gallery an email later in the week telling them where the thing ended up. I had a feeling the news would get to you somehow. Pillow talk, perhaps.” He spat the words out with derision.

Finally, I found my voice. “You motherfucking bastard.” The ache in my throat intensified.

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

A work of art I’d put my heart and soul into had been discarded like a piece of trash. Just like my family had discarded me all those years ago.

“Why would you be so cruel? Haven’t you done enough?” My voice gave out. I had nothing left to say anymore.

“Really, Nate? You ask me that? Remember, after I thought we had it all settled, you stormed into my boardroom when I was busy in an important meeting with investors? Do you remember slapping me across the face and pissing in the plant pot, right there in full view of everyone?” He hissed in disgust. “I was mortified. You embarrassed me. Did you forget the fact that little stunt of hysteria of yours cost me an important business deal, one I really wanted?”

My lips were numb. “I remember.” It hadn’t been one of my finest moments; in fact, it had been one of my stupidest.

After that magical weekend in the Keys, one so full of promise, being forced to tell Cody I could no longer be his lover—I’d been devastated. The look on his face had bruised my heart and it had eaten away at me. So, idiocy had set in, and two days later, after a marathon drinking session, I’d been full of piss and vinegar and had interrupted my father’s business meeting to tell him some home truths about his demands and his homophobia. In hindsight, my actions could have further damaged Cody and his family, despite the fact I’d met my father’s original demands.

I guess my father was making up for lost time from that event so many years ago.