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47.2 - Opposite

47.2 – Opposite

Luke Waters

“I don’t know if people like it. Do you think they like it?”

Leo glanced at me sideways, now on his third pina colada. He had driven down from Springfield all the way to be here for a few days. He was flying to LA on Wednesday.

“Honestly, I can’t really say.”

We were standing off to one side of the gallery that connected to the downstairs kitchens. Leo was steadily siphoning off the alcohol but seeing so many people stare at my photographs so intently was freaking me out a little so I just stood with my arms crossed half-hoping to hear some criticism and half-dreading it at the same time. We were about an hour into the exhibition. The crowd was definitely small, but Carl said it was a decent turnout. We’d come here almost five hours ago, at four in the evening, to set up. The owner of the restaurant, a young thirty-something woman called Janet, was very accommodating and she helped us out as much as she could. I couldn’t do much because even though I was out of my wheelchair, I had to use a cane. But at least I could walk. Fucking finally.

 I looked around at the people. Most of them had slight frowns on their face or looked a little disinterested. I don’t know what I was expecting anyway, it’s not like I thought they would rave over the photos when they saw them.

 “You look very arty like that,” Leo noted. He nodded towards my cane and the suit I was in. It was more like a very half-hearted suit, but it was the best thing I could throw together.

 “I think it’s just the cane,” I said.

 “Yeah, and that whole beard thing you’ve got going on.”

 I touched my jaw self-consciously.

 “I don’t have a beard.”

 He sipped his drink.

 “Yeah, but you need to shave.”

 “Well, maybe I’m trying out the rugged, more masculine look now.”

 He raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

 I rolled my eyes. “No. I’m out of shaving cream, that’s all.”

 He made a face at me and downed the rest of his drink. “God, why is this so fucking good.”

 More people were coming up the staircase. There was a girl with short dark hair in an MIT sweatshirt and a long skirt, and a tattooed hipster couple holding hands. I looked back at Leo.

 “Please don’t refill. The last thing I need is you drunk.”

“You should loosen up and have a few.”

“I have to play PS4 with Chris when I get back,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Can’t be drunk for that.”

 Leo chuckled. “Indeed.”

 We stood in silence for a while, and I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt.

 “Do you think I should go talk to someone….?”

 “Holy…shit.”

 I raised my eyebrow at him.

 “What?”

 He wasn’t looking at me. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were terrifically wide.

 “Leo, you look like you’re seeing things on a fucking acid trip, what’s up.”

 “Luke,” he said in a very urgent voice. “Don’t turn around.”

 I tried turning around but he grabbed my shoulder. Then he looked me in the eye.