Playing with Forever

Chapter 20: The Studio

"I like Sam when he's being himself," Birdie told me one day in mid-November as we stapled twinkle lights to the front of the house. Sam had been coming over after school for a couple weeks. "Sometimes he wears a barrier, doesn't her? As if he wants to stay away from the world for some reason. But there are times where he is just open and completely being himself with no restrictions. And he's a nice guy."

"He just has a habit of being wary of people before he really gets to know them," I explained, knowing I could never tell her about the immortal thing. I was still getting used to it.

"You know what I think?" she said, her eyes shining with the prospect of gossip. "I think something happened when he was younger, some tragic betrayal of trust."

I could practically feel it when something clicked into place in my mind. Birdie was spot on: Sam had been hurt by someone he trusted. He had had his relationship with that girl, Eleanor, which I now realized was likely more serious than I had first thought. His time spent with Eleanor didn't start when he was fifteen like logic dictated, he had been old and mature. Probably. Just how old, I still had no idea. Even if they had been teenagers when their relationship started, they had been seriously talking about a future together before she left him. How long they were together before she revealed that she had played him, I couldn't guess, but I could assume it was more than a couple of months.

But the main reason he put up his barrier, as Birdie had called it, was because he wanted to protect people from him. Because he was scared of hurting them.

"Something like that," I agreed.

"It's too bad. He's a really nice guy."

I tapped the wall with my foot idly. "I like him a lot."

Birdie's eyes widened slightly. "How much do you like him?" she probed slyly.

I just rolled my own eyes. "It's not like that, and you know it. Besides, Sam can hardly handle friendship, like you just said. Do you really think he could handle an actual, romantic relationship?"

"That's true," Birdie sighed, going back to stapling. "But I still like him."

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "Not you, too!"

"What?"

"Nate already worships him. You can't have a crush on him to." She smacked my shoulder playfully. "I'd say go for it," I continued, "But the age gap is too awkward."

"Go home!" Birdie laughed.

"Oooh," I sing-songed. "You're a cougar!"

Nate popped is head outside the front door when he heard us laughing. "Can I be a cougar, too?"

We collapsed into giggles, assuring Nate that if he still wanted to be when he was older, he was free to be anything he wanted to be.

Sam and I often talked about the immortal thing in the evenings, hanging out at his place where we could converse about it without Birdie or Nate overhearing. My responsibilities were over after feeding Nate dinner and Birdie joined us at seven. After that, I usually went to Sam's. 

Sometimes Emile was there, though he often worked in the evenings performing emergency surgeries. When he was around, he would only hang out with us for short periods of time before excusing himself.

I didn't understand Emile much; he was quiet and introspective, but he seemed so genuinely kind. I continued to work on him. I wanted to be his friend. He was also very good at giving insight into the immortal world that Sam sometimes skipped over.

One evening as I hung out at Sam's, he showed me his art studio.

"Whoa," I said, stepping inside. The studio was essentially a large sunroom filled to the brim with art paraphernalia. Half a dozen easels stood around haphazardly amongst tables of different sizes, all filled with paintings in various stages of development.