The Keeper

Dean Can't Keep Going Like This

Dean was standing at the bar and halfway through a pint of beer by the time Robert turned up.

"Sorry I'm late. Carmen made me eat dinner before I left. If I fart out the place, you'll know why."

"No one will notice in here," said Dean, nodding over at the old man and his pair of Labradors sleeping by the fire. "What are you having?"

Robert nodded to the bartender. "Ginger beer, lime and soda."

A withering look from Dean. "Don't you drink beer anymore?"

"Things change, eh? I don't drink anymore and you don't paint. If it were the good old days, I'd be getting trashed, you'd still be painting and I wouldn't have to be out in all weathers looking for painters who have half your talent."

Dean smiled, drank the rest of his pint, and went to the bar to order another.

"Are you in trouble again?" said Robert, sinking into a battered leather armchair as Dean put the drinks on the table.

Dean sat opposite him, scanning the room once more for anyone he knew. "Definitely."

"What have you done now?"

"Nothing. Not really."

"Same as usual, then." Robert leaned back against the headrest, thought better of it, and perched forward on the chair. "Why the call?"

"I'm sick of it, Robert. I can't keep going on like this."

"Of course not. No sane person would. What I don't understand is why you didn't leave years ago. What's taken you so long to come to your senses?"

"I've been thinking about my life and what I want to do with it. And it's not this."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know. That's why I called you. I want to finish out the school year so it doesn't disrupt the students, and then I need to leave, start afresh. But I'm not sure how. I don't have the foggiest idea where to start. What do you think? You were always the ideas man."

"Yes, but you were the man who followed things through."

"I've followed things through to the end of the road. I'm stuck."

"That's not true. People make their own dead ends and they can reverse out of them if they want to. What I want to know is, what brought about the change of heart? Have you met someone?"

"No. That's not the reason. I want to be on my own." Dean drank the rest of his pint and looked around the room as Robert watched him with a slow smile.

"Mate, you are terrible at lying. You've met someone, haven't you?"

"Can't you drag your brain out of your pants, Robert? It's not all about sex."

"Maybe not, but it's about time you joined the world of us mere mortals. You can't execute a perfectly righteous but appallingly dull life because of something that happened more than a decade ago. If your marriage to Kristina was a penance, you're all paid up. It's over. Done. Move on."

"I don't want to talk about that, Robert."

"You should talk about it. Men can talk all night about football, but we're crap at talking about the real stuff, the serious shit that will eat us up inside. Women talk about it all the time. It drives me crazy, but it's probably the reason they live longer, right? You're not responsible for something that happened to your brother when you were a kid."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, fine. But talk to someone about it, for god's sake. Talk to this new woman of yours."

Dean shot him a look and reached for his coat.

"Okay, okay. Chill. I'll change the subject. If you are going to leave your job, you'll need another source of income. Paint for me again. You know I can sell your work."

Dean relaxed and sat back in his chair, now that the conversation was back on ground he could walk on. "I've got nothing in me. I pulled out a canvas last weekend and stared at it for hours. Sketchbooks are no better. The house is making me impotent."

"More like she is. She could suck the soul out of Death himself."

Dean continued. "I need to get out. I need my own space." He stared down at his empty glass.

"Cheer up, mate. I'll ask around. We'll think of something and get you out of your suburban hell. Now, tell me about your students. Any of them doing anything promising? Anything I could take a look at?"

"I'm not letting you get near any of my young artists. That's a sure way to get you into trouble again."

"That's not fair. I'm only on my second wife."

"So far. Does she know what you got up to during your first marriage?"

Robert laughed, bought more drinks, and the two friends slotted back into tales of old times.