Chapter Fourteen

Kert

O n the morning of December twenty-third, Marin packed an overnight duffel and my suitcase into a car we’d rented for the trip. The plan was to go to this mysterious event, sleep over at Marin’s friend’s house, and return to New York on Christmas eve.

We’d done the necessary shopping to be ready to cook on the twenty-fourth and enjoy a quiet day on the twenty-fifth. Marin mentioned an invitation to a New Years Eve party but we hadn’t decided if we’d go.

Marin tortured me with Elvis’s Christmas album in the car, although my complaining was more to fuck with him than my dislike of the music.

“We’ve been driving with only snow banks on both sides for nearly four hours. How long till we get there?” I opened and closed the empty glove box for the umpteenth time, then took Marin’s tentacle to play with. They were my favourite fidget toy—stroking the smooth, pleasant top and pressing my fingers into the suckers gave me endless entertainment.

“We’d already be there if we hadn’t stopped for coffee every hour.” He poked my chin with the end of the appendage I was holding.

“I need my sustenance.” Before the first stop, I’d been complaining that I had to pee so bad that Marin threatened to turn it into desperation play. Since then, I’d told him I wanted more coffee.

Marin patted my knee with his tentacle and I grabbed it and hugged it to my chest, keeping it there since he was using his hands to drive anyway.

“We’re almost there.” Marin took an exit and reduced his speed significantly.

“Then why are you slowing down? The guy at the rental place told us we got new winter tires.”

“That car probably has great tires too.” Marin pointed to an SUV on the side of the road, its front bumper parked in the highway bar.

“Okay, okay.” I sat back, and soon, a massive, modern building spread before us, with glass panels and a wide entrance. If not for the sign, I wouldn’t have guessed what it was.

“A hospital? Looks like something out of Minecraft.” I leaned towards the window to see it better.

“It’s a children’s hospital.” Marin parked in a guest spot in the half-empty parking lot and turned off the engine.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this.” I grabbed my parka and got out, joining Marin by the trunk he’d opened.

“It’s hard to keep you on your toes, so I’m happy it’s working.” Marin handed me a cardboard box to carry while he lifted a much larger one into his tentacles.

A middle-aged white man met us at the entrance to the hospital. His confident stance and narrow hips matched his silver-fox vibe.

“Hi, Leslie.” Marin beamed at the man.

I narrowed my eyes at the exchange. Another ex-fuck buddy?

“Marinos, my dear friend. I’m so happy you made it.” He clapped Marin on the shoulder and turned to me. “You must be Kert. Nice to meet you. Let me take this.” He reached out for my box and shot me a dazzling Hollywood smile.

“Hi. Thanks.” I eyed his tight white button down under an immaculate doctor’s coat. Was he a fitness doctor? Ridiculous.

“Come on in.” Leslie turned around and walked like a superhero with his coat billowing behind him like a cape.

Marin wrapped his free tentacle around my waist and kissed my cheek. “You’re growling.”

I huffed. “Am not.”

“He’s a friend without benefits.” Marin was suppressing a smile even though nothing funny was happening.

“I’m not jealous.” I snorted like a moody teenager.

“Of course. I’m just clarifying.” He stroked his tentacle over my midriff and I relaxed. The fucker knew me too well.

We took an elevator up, left our coats in Leslie’s surprisingly modest office, and walked to another wing.

As we left the office cluster, the white hospital walls turned to colorful murals, with each section having a different theme, from forest and cute creatures, meadows with flowers, until we reached a wing that felt like we stepped into an oceanarium.

The huge sign above the double doors spelled “Oncology”.

I stopped in my tracks when it hit me. “Wait… this is all your art!” I gasped and grabbed Marin’s tentacle.

“He changed the hospital forever.” Leslie nodded, putting his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

“This was the work I told you about. The one I loved so much that it convinced me to stay in New York.” Marin intertwined our fingers and I didn’t miss the surprise on Leslie’s face at the gesture.

“This is amazing art.” I hovered my hand over the waves on the wall as we continued walking. “But we didn’t drive four hours for you to show it to me, right?”

“Nope.” Marin brought my hand up and kissed it.

“His fans are waiting.” Leslie spread his hands like he was The Greatest Fucking Showman.

Marin chuckled. “I wouldn’t call them that.”

“Some kids spend months in this place, so we try to make it as pleasant an experience as possible under the circumstances. The artwork everywhere brings color and joy. The kids can recognize your art from the walls of the entire wing—they even named the animals. While they’re waiting or stuck in place with an IV, the kids copy what they see with crayons, paint, and pencils. Even children can’t watch TV for hours on end, so soon they turn to creating. The influence of the art on our patients is nothing short of amazing.” Leslie’s smile was warm as he opened the double doors to a large room filled with a handful of tables and chairs.

Kids ranging from a few years old to teenagers were at the tables drawing, and they paused and turned our way.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to Marinos!” Leslie jogged to the front of the room like the host of a talk show, clapping his hands in rhythm. He took two steps to a podium and stopped next to an easel. His enthusiasm was making it hard to hate him.

Marin smiled at me and squeezed my hands in his.

A wave of warmth and excitement filled me. I let go of him and stepped aside. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.”

Marin didn’t stay on the podium long. After a few introductory words, he asked the audience what they wanted to learn this time, and began to cruise from table to table.

“Who will show me their shading? That’s amazing, Angelica, keep going.” He gave instructions and taught techniques to the more advanced artists, while helping the beginners—all with a kind word and a smile on his face.

The kids were eager, but even when they were smiling it was impossible not to notice the weariness on their faces. Some had baseball caps on, others sported bald heads, several wore multi-colored or natural-looking wigs.

I turned to Leslie, who was leaning casually against the wall with a small smile on his face. “Are they going home for Christmas?” A sinking feeling in my stomach told me I already knew the answer.

“No. They can’t. And they may not see another Christmas, either. A visit from someone whose art is such an inspiration to them is a priceless gift.” Leslie crossed his arms, looking at Marin.

For the first time I noticed that his gaze was not filled with lust but admiration and respect.

“How did the project come about? He lives a four-hour drive away.” Curiosity was getting the better of me as I discovered more and more layers to my best friend. Right now, I had the perfect opportunity to ask questions about stuff Marin wouldn’t want to brag about.

Leslie pushed off the wall and picked two chairs from a stack to the side.

Taking one from him, I sat close, facing the room.

“A pipe burst in this wing last winter. We had contractors fix the drywall on an emergency call, but bare walls looked depressing.” Leslie shook his head. “I couldn’t find anyone for such a huge endeavor. I was ready to hire a company of five, maybe ten people to do it. But still no one would take the project on such a short notice. DeeDee’s niece was here for tests and we got talking about the issue. She recommended Marin and he not only agreed outright, he did the job for half the price and in half the time.” He sat back and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t glare. I offered him more, but he refused. So, the rest went towards new equipment at the oncology wing. He helped double.”

I propped my chin on my hands. “Yeah, that sounds like him”

“With a brush in each tentacle, his work was a spectacle in itself. We’d fund another wing if we sold tickets. Marin’s incredible brushstrokes transformed the corridors and rooms into a fun space with museum-quality art in the west wing. When I asked him to work on the rest of the hospital, he agreed to come in between other projects. He’s usually here once a month and stays over to talk to the kids and give art advice. They love him here, especially the patients who have been here long enough to catch several of his visits. He started a movement of sorts.”

“How so?” As Leslie talked, I pictured Marin pouring out his passion on the walls, like I used to witness during uni days when he got the chance to work on a big canvas and use all his tentacles.

“We’re pretty remote in the Adirondacks, so the entertainment is not abundant. But word about Marin’s visits got around the art world between here and New York City, and more people from the entertainment world offered to come over pro-bono.” He stood up and waved to Marin, then pointed to a supply closet and a key next to the easel. Marin nodded in thanks and retrieved rolls of paper.

Leslie sat back down and turned to me. “Tomorrow, Rod the comedian is coming but he ditched the clown costume lately. Even if the kids are too young to watch horror movies, they know who Pennywise is from social media, so a clown costume is not a hit anymore. Well, he still wore it on Halloween a few weeks back.”

I laughed. “That should do it.”

“How did you two meet?” Leslie eyed my crop-top with a paint palette and a slogan ‘Who Arted?’ on a colorful background.

I went on about our uni days, and how Marin had always looked out for anyone who needed help or was in trouble. Which a lot of the time had been me.

After an hour, Leslie interrupted the session.

“Okay, young artists. It’s dinner time.”

A groan echoed through the room, with some kids throwing brushes on the floor.

“I’ll be back in the second week of January, so we’ll continue then,” Marin said, packing the supplies he’d been using. “Now, clean up your work stations, and I’ll see you soon.” He waved with both hands and tentacles as he walked backwards to the door.

Leslie escorted us to the staff cafeteria and offered us lunch. We sat at a small, round table and dug into the sandwiches.

“So will I see you at the New Years Eve party? You haven’t replied to my email invitation.” Leslie raised an eyebrow at Marin then turned to me. “My wife is throwing one in her NYC apartment.”

“Sorry,” Marin said. “I saw your email but we haven’t decided yet. We’ll go over our plans and confirm in a day or two, okay?”

“Sure. I hope to see you there.” Leslie fiddled in his coat pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “As agreed.” He handed them to Marin, but addressed me. “Mr. Good-hearted artist here does charity work left, right and centre, but I couldn’t ask him to drive here and back to New York a day before Christmas, Eve. Especially not after he mentioned that he had a guest over. So I offered my cabin for the night. Now, you could chill and get a good nights’ sleep before driving back.” He winked at Marin. “The fridge is stocked. Make yourselves at home, you two.”

Okay, Leslie was growing on me a bit.

An hour-and-a-half drive later—at a snail’s pace due to constant snowfall—we arrived at a huge-ass house that could only be called a cabin thanks to the log finish on the outside. The interior had indeed a cosy vibe, with wooden paneling throughout, shaggy rugs, and vintage oak furniture. I turned at the scent of pine and sure enough, a medium-sized fir tree stood to the side of a fireplace, both decorated for Christmas.

Marin hugged me from behind and kissed my cheek. “Wanna check out the bed in the guest room?”