Tag Archives: M/M

Canvas Blues – LXXIV: Present

04 Wednesday Aug 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXXIV: Present

“This is Casey,” Orion mused. He pressed a finger against the raised paint from where a different painting had ripped the wall when Brendon had removed it. “But he’s not normally here. The lines from the frame are the wrong size, don’t match up with what was here originally.”

Brendon shoved his hands deep into his pockets and did his best not to look self-conscious.

“You were trying it.” Orion met his gaze after an unsettling glance across Brendon’s bedroom. “Did it work?”

With a slow shake of his head Brendon turned away.

“He’s young in this painting. Younger than I’d have imagined. You were friends for a long while? Had to be. First relationship. He bail on you? I can’t imagine you wanting to revisit him were it the other way around.”

Brendon cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything.

“You’re like a painting yourself, Brendon.” Orion moved closer, his voice going deeper, smoother. “All facing outward, your emotions like strokes across your skin. Dark, but not shadowy, yet hiding bits of yourself inside all the business of your work.”

Brendon took a step back, needing the space as his world shrank, zeroing in on Casey where he smiled on the wall and Orion’s steady, steely presence. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted to believe you. But it’s not. It didn’t work.”

Orion only nodded and turned back to Casey’s painting. “That is interesting. That had been another theory of mine. If it wasn’t the artist’s intentions, perhaps it’s the viewer’s.” He ran a finger through the air, miming stroking Casey’s cheek. Then he raised an eyebrow at Brendon. “Maybe the artist as viewer is immune.”

Brendon sank onto the edge of his bed, a visceral feeling clutching at his gut. The bed sagged as Orion sat next to him, the mattress too old to remain firm, pressing their thighs together as they dipped toward one another. Orion made no move to pull away. So Brendon didn’t either. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXX: Yesteryears

26 Wednesday May 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXX: Yesteryears

That summer between sophomore and junior year, Donna Pierceman called three times seeking something new for her gallery for that September. The theme—Family History—gave Brendon no inspiration despite repeated suggestions first from his mom, then from Aunt Laurel. They certainly thought this new theme was important.

“Family—our family—is different from others. You should be proud of it, to have something representing us on display.”

That repeatedly came from his mom all summer long because she’d gotten a bird in her ear and now believed Brendon somehow suffered from teenage embarrassment, which he wasn’t, at least not completely, that was lending him to cringe at the gallery theme. But the truth would have shocked and frustrated his mom worse because Casey-fever had taken hold and the only painting he sketched out time and time again was a birthday present for Casey’s seventeenth.

This one had to be the best of Brendon’s paintings. Something to make Casey sigh and smile dreamily. Something to make their next kiss elevated to heaven, to entwine them more powerfully than any other two people in the world, living or dead. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXIX: Yesteryears

19 Wednesday May 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXIX: Yesteryears

The ski trip—which logically should have been called a snowboarding trip—flew past in a flurry of snowdrifts and Valentine decorations. Brendon didn’t even think Casey noticed Robbie missing that Friday in February, too busy finding temporarily abandoned construction zones to park at during dark hours. For the first time in his life looking to stand still rather than go roaring off down the road—at least in a literal sense, because figuratively, Casey was always ready to go.

They spent those first few months in a mess of stained clothing and sweaty skin. The scent of that backseat turning from a mix of cheap strawberry air freshener, motor oil and cigarettes, to musk and pheromones and french onion dip and tacos because they’d get hungry between and find themselves at the grocery store at eleven or a drive-through for fourth meal.

The pictures under Brendon’s mattress grew lonely. The furrows on Casey’s brow smoothed out.

They did everything and then did everything again in different positions. They drank too much on race sidelines and dodged heavy drugs by virtue of being too caught up in one another to care about the baggies being passed hand-to-hand. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXVIII: Present

12 Wednesday May 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXVIII: Present

She’d been twenty-six. In the ground now these last eight years at St. Thomas next to her grandmother. Her obituary claimed she’d drown in her family’s home. They didn’t say bathroom or kitchen or Jacuzzi. They didn’t say saltwater. But Brendon remembered the painting he’d completed for the Yert family…eight years ago. Same year Robbie had gotten back from his European backpacking trip.

Marylanders and their crabs.

“It’d been another bayscape. I do a lot of them. Locals like it. Sort of a claim, part of what culture we have.” He swallowed and took another gulp of the whiskey Orion had brought when he’d arrived on Brendon’s doorstep. “Been on a few postcards,” he added. “Don’t know if they sell.”

Orion poured another few fingers and sat back in the armchair. The room felt tiny and tight, all the walls too full of drawings and sketches and work. Yet he didn’t seem to mind. He sat, larger than God and as ambiguous in his blessings. The small world of Brendon Kotes his to play in.

That might have been an unfair observation. A good painting though.

“That particular commission came from Katherine Yert. She took me into her guest bathroom—huge room, bigger than my apartment—and showed me the decor, wanted me to match the shades exactly. Quite particular so I took photos and copious notes even though it made the painting a tad more teal than would be right. Though, I guess that’s a matter of perspective.”

“What is it that makes you think Evelyn Yert drown because of your painting?”

Brendon hesitated. “She’s… She was…” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXVII: Yesteryears

05 Wednesday May 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXVII: Yesteryears

Brendon had no real words for that first kiss. The slush coming down, spattering across Casey’s Mustang. The vibrations of the wipers as they struggled to clear the water. The chill that seeped in through the floorboards. The contrasting warmth blowing on his arm. Those were the things that would forever drag him back.

He knew he’d been second-choice, second best. And yet, in that moment, he thought he’d won. Casey’s mouth warmer than the heat purring from the engine, his hands gentler than the rain, and when he sighed and settled his forehead on Brendon’s shoulder Brendon simply held him there.

A moment etched in time. Casey’s stress sliding away. The anger fizzling, struggling to gain purchase, but like the slush coursing down the windows, Brendon stroked down Casey’s back until there was nothing but warmth where there’d been fire, nothing but contentment where there’d been bitterness.

Their lips, soft, open, became a conduit. Years of desire, years of confusion, all coming to a head as tongues darted carefully, reaching for the empty feeling in order to fill it up, twist it about, make it tumble away. Brendon shivered, numb and hot and kissing in a state of shocked happiness. Finally having a taste of what-could-be, what-might-be. That kiss drew, like lines in his sketchbook, shading and coloring until the entire world blended together— Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXVI: Yesteryears

28 Wednesday Apr 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXVI: Yesteryears

They drove down Grant’s Lorry Road, fast enough they took that bump at speeds that sent their stomach’s dropping. Casey huffed and ground the pedal down further when they turned down Old Sycamore Road, the canopy above their heads barren, clawing, like dying dryads, and the road slick and overrun with icy water in the worst of places.

Chilly wind whipped in through the millimeter gaps where the rubber pulled off the windows and Casey’s iPod sang glory rock through crackly speakers.

“She’s nothing but a cow. Been handed through every guy on the varsity lacrosse team and some of the JV as well. Can’t believe he’d let a slut like that catch his eye. Idiot never could keep his liquor.”

“You’re not really mad at Evelyn,” murmured Brendon, but he stopped short of defending her. He should have, he realized later, but fear kept his filters up and his throat closed down.

“She’s not worthy of me being mad at her,” Casey agreed. “Fucking Robbie though.”

“Why’s it matter?”

“Because he looks down his nose at us, like we’re nothing but dirt.”

“Have you talked to him?” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXV: Present

21 Wednesday Apr 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXV: Present

Brendon should have spent the rest of the day working. He had three active commissions that called to him, a few emails that begged responses, and a gallery showing to plan for the end of next month, but he found himself, just as Orion probably knew he would, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a giant binder and a mass of contracts and papers, wishing he had already hired someone to sort the logistics of his job into legible order.

How exactly did one go about calling up old clients and customers to ask, “Hello, has the painting not swallowed or spit out anyone who’s viewed it? No? Thank you. Please don’t call the psych ward. Have a good one.”

His internet search skills left much to be desired as he had a tendency to buy books he could pore over for information rather than reach for a computer or phone or anything in between. Maybe if he’d been more of a digital artist…

Evening had turned the studio into a red cloud by the time Brendon realized a generally easy solution. Why, call and let all previous customers know about the new gallery showing. Now, to figure out how to call each and every one of these customers without letting the phone grow horns and eat what social skills he possessed…

No, that wasn’t a good solution either.

Brendon found himself sitting at his paint-speckled work table late into the evening typing in names and addresses and feeling like a stalker. He found nothing and more nothing. Lists of honor rolls dotted with first and last names unconnected. Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXIV: Yesteryears

14 Wednesday Apr 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXIV: Yesteryears

The day Casey found out Robbie had sex with Evelyn Yert was a cold, slushy day in mid-January. He came roaring up in that blue Mustang of his, exhaust cut short as if he thought the world wouldn’t notice him otherwise. He wore no coat, not even a rain jacket to hold off the mush occasionally sluicing down for minutes at a time.

Short-sleeved and angry, Casey banged on the door, setting off Mom’s angel prism to spinning tortured rainbows across the entrance. From down the hall came her voice, her ears attuned to the chaos that was Casey.

“You tell that rascal not to punch my door, Brendon. Tell him I’ll not invite him to a single casserole dinner if he can’t find some quiet in his crazy.”

Red-eyed and rough, Casey scowled the moment Brendon opened the door.

“Not inside. Can’t be cooped up. Not now. Come on.” He turned before he’d finished speaking, sure in the knowledge Brendon wouldn’t resist.

He was bouncing on his toes in the wet street, hands shoved into his pockets and breath coming out in dragon steam puffs by the time Brendon joined him, handing a second coat over. Casey merely laughed miserably and climbed into the driver’s seat, so that coat went into the back, crumpled to the floor where it lay forgotten for three weeks.

“Did you know?” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXIII: Yesteryears

07 Wednesday Apr 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXIII: Yesteryears

The fact that Tori Kel no longer hung around Robbie, rubbing in Casey’s face all that he could not have, became a springboard for that rubber band to return. The two of them called a grudging truce one random day, with not an iota of advance warning or thought to it.

“Can I sit here?” asked Robbie that April, tray of sloppy joe and french fries held balanced in one hand with his red bookbag hanging from the other.

Casey looked up with mouth frozen half-open and for once didn’t seem to have a word to say, though his gaze bounced all around Robbie and down to his hand where the splint had been a mainstay for many months during middle school.

“Sure,” said Brendon with a raised brow toward Casey. He scooted his sketchbook down, away from danger, and crumpled his trash to a more reasonable diameter. “Read any good comics lately?”

“Oh man,” said Robbie with a grin for the ages. “You know that one you really like about the mage with the tattoos? The guy who wrote it just came out with a new webcomic. It’s about a werewolf patrol that falls into a different dimension. It’s pretty good.”

“Send me the link.”

After a few moments of painfully awkward silence at the table, Casey cleared his throat and said, “Saw a new BMW in your driveway last week. Parents get a new car?” Continue reading →

Canvas Blues – LXII: Present

31 Wednesday Mar 2021

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

LXII: Present

They walked the downtown streets. Brendon waited patiently—mostly patiently—while Orion peeked into shop windows and made inane, yet safe comments on their contents.

“What’s this one then? A gallery. ‘Local Artisans.’ A lot of crabs, I see. Marylanders seem to like their crabs. Always blue ones.”

“You’d rather dead ones?”

At the caustic tone, Orion cast him a glance, but didn’t engage with a response. “And here we’ve got herbal remedies for the soul and spirit,” read Orion off one of the plaques in the next window.

He put the last of his ice cream into his mouth and tossed the cup into the trashcan that sat at the base of the banner pole behind them. Then took his painting from Brendon with a nod of thanks.

“Rosemary for remembrance and yarrow root for protection. Should I buy you a bundle of dried herbs to hang in your studio?”

“I’d rather a coffee.”

“In this heat?”

Brendon lifted his gaze heavenward for a moment. “Why are you here?” Continue reading →