The Man in the Opening

A Short Story

by

E. Thornton Goode, Jr.

 In Appreciation

I want to thank my friend, Julian Green, for allowing

me to use his picture for this story, so the reader may get an
idea as to the appearance of the character of Brody.
 The Man in the Opening

It was my day off and I thought I’d go for a drive in

the country. I started doing something a friend of mine and I
used to do when we were in school. We’d start driving,
randomly, picking side roads just to see where they’d go. I
have to laugh. In remembering this, it brings back the old
expression ‘all roads lead to Rome’. In the case at school, all
roads led to Roanoke. What can I say?

It was mid-afternoon and I’d been choosing random

roads since morning and had no idea where I was. Good
thing I had GPS on my cell phone or it would have taken me
forever to finally get home again. It was probably going to
take me forever to get home anyway with as far out as I’d
most likely gone.

Suddenly, I came upon a very old house out in the

country. It reminded me of one of those old houses you see
in horror movies where all sorts of evil lurked. You’d almost
expect to see a Norman Bates come walking out onto the
porch.

I wasn’t sure of the situation but it appeared whoever

had been living there had moved and placed a huge amount
of stuff at the road in front of the house, obviously to be
thrown away. My curiosity got the best of me. I had to stop
and see what was there. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll find a coffin or a
severed head.” I started snickering.

Getting out of the car, I immediately spotted a fairly

large roll of what looked to be canvas or something similar.
The reason I saw it so easily is because it was at least six feet
tall. Being an artist, finding large canvas material is like
finding gold. I had to check it and see.
 Walking over and pulling the upper corner of the roll
outward, I saw it really was canvas. On top of that, it was
already coated and ready to paint on. “Wow! This is great.
Holy cow!” This truly was a find. The roll, being about
twelve inches in diameter, was rather heavy. I went and put
down the back seat of the SUV, opened the back and finally
slid the roll in.

Going through the other items, I saw nothing more of

interest to me. I guess the old expression is true. ‘One
man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’ The twelve-inch roll
of canvas may have been trash to the previous owner but was
a definite treasure for me.

Yes. It was a good thing I had GPS. I had no idea I’d

gone so far out in the middle of nowhere. If I ever had to
return to that old house again, I’d be lost, trying to find it.

Once home, it took some time to get the roll of

canvas up the steps to the third floor and my apartment. It
really was heavy. Finally, I got it in the second bedroom
which was now my paint room and leaned it in the corner.

I’d have to think of something special to paint on

such a nice wide canvas. Several things came to mind like a
huge landscape or one of those lovely garden scenes like the
one I saw painted by Thomas Kinkade. He’s an amazing
artist. Yes. I’d have to think about it.

Maybe it was a week later, I decided to use the

canvas. I laid it on the floor and took a knife to cut away the
many wrappings of cord and string, keeping the roll together.
I could tell they were very old, indicating it had been in this
state for quite some time. It had probably been stored in the
attic or basement for decades.
 “Why would someone buy such a nice roll of canvas,
stick it away and never use it? I’d love to know how old it
really was.” I grabbed up all the old string and cord and
threw it in the trashcan.

Moving things out of the way, it was now possible to

unroll the canvas. I was sure there had to be at least eight
feet if not more when it was rolled out. The wooden
stretchers would make a nice canvas six feet wide by eight
feet tall. Why so large? I planned to do a life-size painting.
I remembered a wonderful painting I saw many years earlier.
It was of Icarus. A truly incredible artwork. Mine was also
going to be of a male nude. He’d be looking out a five by
six foot opening in a stuccoed wall. His arms would be up,
supporting himself against the inside of the wall as he looked
out and down to his left. I’d call the painting ‘The Man in
the Opening’. And who was going to be my model? Why of
course, my imaginary lover. I started to giggle. I couldn’t
help myself.

My imaginary lover. Over six feet tall, around two

hundred and thirty pounds, with thick dark hair on his chest,
stomach, arms and legs. He’d have a head full of thick dark
brown wavy hair and a nicely trimmed full beard and
mustache. And eyes the color of blue ice. Yep. I think
you’ve got the picture. Hey. I like big burly men. I can’t
help it.

Since the wooden stretchers were so long I had to use

some one by twos to support them and keep them from
bowing inward. Then, it was time to attach the canvas. I
laid the roll of canvas on the floor and slowly began pushing
it forward.

Immediately, I was aware. The treated surface of the

canvas wasn’t of modern finishes. It had been done by hand.
I checked it very closely. Whoever did it made a nice clean
and fairly smooth surface. There were some small cracks but
nothing a quick fill coat of gesso couldn’t fix.

I continued to unroll. A little over two feet had been

exposed when I noticed something was already on it.
Rolling it a little farther, it became quite evident. Whatever
was on the canvas was deep red in color. Rolling it even
farther, it became obvious. There was a huge pentagram,
covering the entire width of the canvas. Along with the
pentagram were many signs and symbols.

I spoke softly. “Oh. Wow. I wonder what this is all

about? I’ll bet if this canvas could speak, what stories it
could possibly tell. Damn! I sure hope it didn’t deal with
any weird shit.” I paused for a moment. “Okay. No
problem. I can cut this section off the roll and use what’s
beyond.”

I continued to unroll the canvas. At about nine feet,

the cloth was untreated. “Damn! I don’t have enough gesso
to treat a large area. Guess I’ll have to use the part with the
pentagram on it.”

I quickly ran over and dipped one of my paint rags in

some turpentine and rubbed it on the red coloring of the
pentagram. None of the red came off. “Excellent. That
means it won’t bleed through my painting.”

In no time at all, the canvas was on the stretchers. I

set the canvas on two bricks and leaned it against the wall. It
almost touched the ceiling. I stood back to look at it. “Well.
To paint the top part of this thing, I’ll have to get on my little
step ladder.”

I have to admit it was very unsettling, seeing an

almost six-foot-wide pentagram, filling the canvas. “I
wonder what all those weird markings and symbols mean?”
I’d be very glad when I got some paint on the thing to cover
the ugly pentagram.

Organizing and setting things up, it was finally, time

to begin. The rest of the day was spent filling in the small
cracks then taking my pencil and roughly sketching the
layout of the subject on the canvas.

I knew I wasn’t going to get anything significantly

accomplished for the next four days. Being a short-order
cook slash artist, I’d be working my usual ten-hour days. I
really didn’t mind because, in actuality, I only worked four
days a week. It would also give the gesso time to dry.

I enjoyed it. I liked the folks I worked with. And I

definitely loved my customers. So many were there on a
regular basis. Some, I knew exactly what they wanted
before they even put in their order. You’d be surprised how
many gave me cards and money in envelopes, during
holidays.

Yeah. With my education, I could’ve been in the

corporate world, making a lot more money but I wouldn’t
have had the personal contact with people I liked so much. I
was happy and I made enough to pay the bills and put a little
away for a rainy day.

The next day at work, Jeff saw me. “Hey… You!

Paint man! What have you been doing lately?” Jeff was one
of the excellent waiters at the restaurant.

“Funny you should ask. I’m getting ready to do a

major work. Yeah. Six by eight.”

“Feet?” Jeff looked surprised.

“Yep!” I chuckled.
 “What the hell are you going to paint that’s that big?”

“A male nude.”

Jeff looked at me silently for a moment then he bent

his head down and began to snicker. “Well. This guy must
be something else if the canvas needs to be that size.” He
kept snickering.

“Jeff! Damn! Would you get your damn mind out of

the gutter? Geez.” I started to snicker, too.

“How long is it going to take you to do this mural?”

“Jeff. It’s not a mural. It’s not going on a wall. I’m

thinking around a month at least.”

“Well, anything six feet by eight feet is the size of

one of the walls in my apartment. You’re painting a mural.”
He couldn’t stop laughing.

We both broke out laughing.

“Well. I sure would like to see a picture of it when

it’s done. I know how well you paint and I know it’s going
to be a terrific painting.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

The days passed quickly. Finally, I was going to get

my three days off in a row. After getting home that night
from work, I went to bed immediately, wanting to get well-
rested, so I could spend as many waking hours painting.

The next morning I began. Dark background colors

behind the figure went on first. Next, I did the exterior of the
stucco wall. Why with it being an off-white color? Because
there were going to be ivy vines in several areas of the wall
and of course, would have dark green leaves. It would be
easier to put them on after the wall was painted than trying to
fill in with the off-white color between the leaves later on.

Next, came roughing in the colors of the figure. I

was totally pleased with how well everything fell into place.
I was so glad I’d taken those classes, remembering my
classes on painting the human figure and anatomy. I got
quite a bit done on the painting, during my days off. Seeing
the red pentagram finally disappear under a layer of paint
was quite heartwarming. It was going to take several weeks
to actually complete the work, making sure every detail was
perfect.

My estimate was correct. It took almost four weeks

to complete the painting. When it was done, I was extremely
pleased. My original idea of having his face turned slightly
to the left and looking downward with a pensive expression,
completely changed. He was now, looking out at the viewer.
His crystal blue eyes were so alive and he had a great smile
on his face. ‘I know you want me, don’t you?’ was his whole
facial expression. I had to admit, even if I had to say so
myself, the figure looked so real it was as if he could step
right off the canvas.

Walking into work, I held up my cell phone, turned it

in Jeff’s direction and pointed directly at it.

Jeff looked over and his face lit up. “Oh. Yeah. At
break.”

At break time, we sat down and I brought up the

pictures of the canvas. Jeff looked through them. “Oh.
Wow. The painting’s amazing. He looks so alive. And that
expression on his face. I love it.” He chuckled. “I see you
weren’t stingy when it came to his accoutrements, either.”

We both snickered.
 “Yeah. Just finished it. A frame for it is going to cost
a fortune. Maybe down the road when I can afford one.”

“You need to enter it in the art festival next spring.

I’ll bet you’ll win.”

“I never thought of that. Thank you. I just might do

that.”

Yours truly was right again. It took a little over a

month for the canvas to finally dry.

Not long afterwards, I’d come in late from work and

was very tired. I took a shower and immediately went to
bed. One more workday and I’d be off again.

I’m not sure how much time had passed but I was
awakened by a sound. I was sure it came from my paint
room. Maybe something had fallen over. Quickly, I got up,
turned on the light and went down the hall to the paint room.
I stopped in the doorway and turned on the light.

To say, I was totally shocked by what I saw would be

an absolute understatement. There, standing about three feet
in front of the large painting, was a man. In the dark, he’d
accidentally knocked over a jar, holding my brushes. No.
This man wasn’t a burglar. He was the man from the
painting. The man in the opening.

There he was just as I had painted him. Instead of a

smile, there was an expression of questioning, wonder and
disorientation. He quickly looked around the room and then
at me. “How did I get here? Who are you?”

“Oh… My… God.” I spoke softly. My mind was

spinning like a top, trying to figure out how this was at all
possible. I spoke softly again. “Don’t be afraid. You’re
safe. Something very strange has happened. I’m not sure
how to explain it.”

He looked at me and smiled. “But you’re not that

damn preacher man. Where is he?” He then looked down at
himself. “Damn! I’m naked. How did that happen?

I shook my head and smiled. “I’m not sure of whom

you’re referring. There’s no preacher man here. Here.
Come with me. I’ll get a towel to wrap around you. Follow
me to the bathroom. Trust me. Everything’s all right.”

We walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light and

I got a large bath towel off the rack, so he could wrap
himself. I handed it to him. “Here you go.”

He took the towel and wrapped it around himself. As

he did, he saw his reflection in the mirror. He jerked and
stood up straight. Slowly, he walked over to the mirror and
touched it with his right hand. “Is that me?”

I looked at him and then at the mirror. “Yes. Yes, it

is. But there’s much to explain. Are you hungry? Are you
thirsty? Come, let me get you something to drink and then
something to eat.”

We walked into the kitchen. I gestured for him to sit

down at the table.

He slowly sat down, shaking his head. “I’m so

confused. I don’t understand. I don’t look like myself. But
if what I saw in the mirror is really me, I’m much more
good-looking than I used to be.” He gave a little chuckle.

I brought a glass of iced tea to the table. “Here you

go. I hope you like lemon and sugar in your tea. And what
is this ‘used to be’ comment you made? You never existed
before I painted you.”
 He looked up at me. “Excuse me. Yes, I did. I was a
blacksmith and that preacher man didn’t like me. I’m sure
that’s why he did what he did.”

I went to the refrigerator and grabbed the package of

cold cuts. “I hope you like mustard.” I grabbed the jar of
mustard. Then, I grabbed the loaf of bread from the bread
box on the counter. I put everything on the table. “Why
don’t you make yourself a sandwich and we’ll talk about
this.”

“Thank you very much. I appreciate it. I am kind of

hungry. I really do like your tea.” He started making a
sandwich.

“Okay. I’m still trying to get over the fact you’re an

imaginary man who has stepped out of my painting. But it’s
obvious you have a history. How can that be possible? First
of all, let’s start with this. What’s your name?”

“My name is Brody.”

“Good. Brody. That’s a start. Now, tell me about

yourself.”

“I’m a blacksmith. Or I was. Maybe I still am.

Then, that preacher man started snooping into my life. It
was none of his business. But he didn’t like it. He kept
telling me I was going to hell. And he was a liar. Acting all
holy and goody-goody in public. If folks really knew. He
was into that black magic stuff, too. That’s what happened.
And I have a feeling he was like me. Every time he was
around me, he’d look at me. Yeah. Like he was trying to see
me without clothes. I noticed but I never looked back.”
 “Okay, Brody. I need a little more information here.
You seem to be in the middle of the story. First off, when is
this? What is the date?”

“The date? Well, when I got all caught up in this, it

was June.”

“Okay. June. Now, when? What year?”

“Why, eighteen thirty-two.” He looked at me with a

straight ‘as a matter of fact’ expression.

“Holy shit!” I was shocked but wanted to hear more

before I said anything. “Okay. Now, tell me what happened
and the last things you remember.”

“What I remember is I was home, eating dinner when

there came a knock at the door. I went and answered it.
There was that stupid preacher man, pointing a gun at me.
He told me to shut the door and come get in his wagon.
That’s when we drove to his house. He kept the gun on me
the whole time. We went up into his attic and he made me
stand in the middle of this big giant red star on the floor.
Yes, he kept the gun on me. I knew if I tried something, he’d
shoot me. You should have seen the look on his face. He
was crazy.”

“There was a podium like in church with a big book

on it. And it was open. He started reading out loud in some
kind of language that sounded very, very strange. All of a
sudden, I began to feel really weird inside. The last thing I
remember is him, looking at me with this evil grin and look
on his face.”

“That’s all I remember until I was looking through an

opening into the room you found me in. There was a little
bit of light, coming through the window. I stepped through
the opening and accidentally knocked something over. It
made a sound. Just a little while later, the whole room was
full of light and there you were, standing in the doorway.”

He began to snicker. “I don’t know how it happens

but every time you’ve walked into a room, it becomes full of
light. Are you into magic, too?”

I had to laugh to myself. Him being from 1832, he

had no clue about electricity or light bulbs. “Brody. No.
I’m not into magic. I’ll explain all that soon. Whatever that
guy did to you, you somehow became part of the canvas on
which the red pentagram existed. Maybe somehow, me
painting over the pentagram, especially with the figure of a
man, allowed you to come back. Don’t ask me how. I have
to admit, I’m glad I didn’t paint a girl.” I started to chuckle.

Brody looked at me and began laughing. “So am I.

Damn. So am I. That would’ve really messed things up.
What can I say?”

“One question. Why do you think he did what he

did?”

“Because I think he wanted me. Physically. And I

wasn’t about to give it to him. Yeah. I like men but I didn’t
like him. He gave me the creeps.”

“Well. I definitely appreciate you being so forward

and forthright. That helps a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have told you that.

But it’s the truth.” He bent his head down.

“Brody. Not to worry. I like men, too. And things

are a lot different now than they were back then.”

“You do?” He gave a big smile. “What do you mean

when you say ‘back then’?”
 “Brody. Eighteen thirty-two. That was almost two
hundred years ago. It’s now two thousand and seventeen.”

“What!? No way?”

“Yep.” I pointed to the calendar, hanging on the wall

in the kitchen. “And things are a lot different for men like
you and me than it was back in your time. And just so you
know, the Supreme Court passed a ruling two years ago,
allowing us to marry.”

Brody shook his head with a weird expression on his

face. “No way!”

“It’s true. Oh, yes. We still have our problems with

the religious fundamentalists but we deal with it.” I grabbed
his empty glass. “Let me get you some more iced tea.” I got
the tea out of the refrigerator, poured his glass and headed
back to the table.

Brody had watched me the whole time. I’d forgotten

I was only wearing underwear. As I handed him the glass, he
spoke. “You’re one cute little man. And you look like
you’re a little younger than me.” He flexed his eyebrows
several times with a big smile.

I shook my head. “I’m thirty-six.”

“Well. I’m forty.” He gave a huge grin.

What could I say? I had painted my imaginary lover

and now, here he was, sitting across from me at the table. I
bent my head down, shaking it and gave a little snicker.

“What’s so funny?” Brody had a big smile on his

face.
 “It’s what you said. I cannot lie. I painted on that
canvas a man who fits all the descriptions of my imaginary
lover.” I looked right at him. “And here you are.”

We both laughed.

I shook my head. “Okay. Some of us have to get up

and go to work tomorrow morning. How about we go lay
down? I’ve got to get some rest. Ten hour days aren’t the
easiest.”

We headed to the bedroom and got in bed.

Brody pulled me against him, my back against his

chest and his arms around me. He whispered, “Thank you
for bringing me back. I promise I’ll try not to be any trouble.
And when I can, I’ll get out of your hair.”

I have no idea how long I was asleep but suddenly,

Brody became extremely agitated. We both woke up.

“Brody. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. But something’s happening. I don’t

understand. Something’s pulling me. I can’t resist it.” He
climbed out of the bed and began moving toward the
doorway. It appeared as if some unseen force was pulling at
him.

I immediately got up, grabbed his arm and tried

pulling him back. “Brody. What is it?”

“I have no idea. It’s like something has me, pulling

me.” He moved into the hallway and then into my paint
room. Soon, he was directly in front of the canvas. He stood
in front of it for a few moments. All of a sudden, he was
sucked into the canvas. I watched him turn around and look
out at me with alarm on his face. His right arm reached
outward towards me. Instantly, he was frozen and part of the
painting again.

I stood there in astonishment. I couldn’t imagine

what had happened. Just then, a ray of sunlight came
through the window. I turned to look at it and then back at
the painting. I shook my head. I was totally shaken.

I walked to the canvas and reached out, touching his

face full of anguish. My heart began to ache for him. Was
our one night together all we would have? Was he to remain
a prisoner of the painting for the rest of time? Does he know
what is happening now? Can he see me from inside the
painting? I began to cry.

It was early but I knew my place of work would

probably have just opened. Preparations would be starting
for the breakfast crowd. I had to go in. Today would be my
Friday and then I’d be off for three days. I knew I had to
start getting ready.

Arriving at work, I couldn’t get the image of Brody in

anguish out of my head. My mind wasn’t focusing.

Jeff saw me as I walked in. “I can’t believe that

Mister Punctuality is a little late. And you look like you’re a
thousand miles away. What the hell is wrong?”

I looked at Jeff with sadness. “Jeff. You’re not going

to believe me. It’s impossible. I’m sorry. I do need to get
myself together.”

“Let me fix you a cup of coffee. You look like you

truly need it. Let’s talk at break.”

At our break, I told Jeff all that had happened. He sat

there in awe. “You do realize how incredible this is. Maybe
you released him from some spell when you painted over the
pentagram. Question. I have a thought. What time was it
when he came out of the painting? Also, what time was it
when he was pulled back into it?”

I shook my head. “It was the middle of the night

when he came out and it was early morning when he went
back in again.”

“Okay. Just a theory. Especially, with this having to

do with a pentagram. Is it possible he arrived at midnight?
Is it possible he left at daybreak? Hey. We could be dealing
with the supernatural here.”

I thought for a moment. “Jeff. You might be on to

something. Yeah.”

At that, our break was over. At six-thirty when my

shift was over, I waved at Jeff who was also leaving. “See
you in three days.”

It was still daylight and a little after seven when I got

home. All I could think about was Brody stuck in the
painting. He looked like he was in such pain and anguish
and there was nothing I could do for him. I kept going over
it again and again in my mind, trying to think what it was,
drawing him back. Maybe what Jeff said had some validity.
Also, I was trying to get over the fact he’d actually come out
of the painting in the first place.

I was exhausted. I started to go into my paint room

but changed my mind, knowing if I did I’d start to cry. I
went and took a quick shower then immediately went to bed.
Being up half the previous night and a long day at work had
taken its toll. Almost immediately, I was asleep.

The room was dark when I was awakened by a noise.

Remembering what Jeff said, I looked over at my clock. It
WAS midnight. I slowly got out of bed and stood up. That’s
when I heard it.

Softly, the sounds came from my paint room.

“Where are you? Are you here?”

Shock raced through my body. It was Brody! I

turned on the light in my bedroom, raced down the hall to the
paint room and flipped on the light in the paint room. There
he was, standing in front of the canvas.

I let out a cry of joy. “Brody! Brody!” I ran over

and hugged him tightly. “You’re back. I can’t believe it.
You’re back.”

Brody wrapped his arms around me and whispered,

“Yes. Yes, I am. Wow.”

“I thought you were gone forever. And you looked

like you were in so much pain.”

“I remember being pulled into the painting, turning

around and trying to get back out again. That’s it. That’s all
I remember. It’s like I was asleep the whole time.”

“You looked like you were in so much agony. But

you weren’t hurting?”

“Nope. No pain. No agony. No nothing.”

“Well, I’m sure glad of that. Now, all we have to do

is figure out what’s going on here. Let’s go in the kitchen.
Are you hungry? I’ll fix you something to eat and get you
some tea.”

We both headed to the kitchen. Passing the

bathroom, I got a towel for Brody to wrap himself.
 As I went to the refrigerator to get cold cuts and
mustard, along with bread from the counter, Brody took a
seat at the table. I placed the items on the table, so he could
fix a sandwich. Then, I got him a glass of iced tea. I
immediately started a new pot of tea. “I swear I don’t just
eat sandwiches. I do eat real food. Really.”

I sat down at the table. “Okay. We need to figure this

out. This is way too strange.” I looked right at Brody.
“How long have you been out of the canvas before you
called me?”

“Almost instantly.”

“I happen to look at my clock. It was midnight. Jeff

may have explained it correctly.” I tilted my head to the
side. “I’d still like to know what forced you back into the
painting. Jeff said it probably had to do with the black magic
you made reference to.”

“But I’m back. That must mean last night wasn’t a

one-time thing.” Brody looked at me strangely. “It was last
night, wasn’t it?”

I smiled at him. “Yes. It was last night.”

He looked at me. “I know you’re probably tired from

work.” He looked down at the table.

“Brody, I may be tired but I want to spend time with

you. You’re alive again after almost two hundred years. You
deserve more than just sitting alone in the dark.”

Brody smiled. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to know

more about your time. Yeah. Two thousand and seventeen.
Wow.”
 We sat at the table for hours talking. Brody’s face
went crazy when I started telling about cars and airplanes.

While we were talking, suddenly, Broday twitched

and got a surprised look on his face. “Oh. No. It’s the
same. It’s happening again.”

I quickly looked at the clock on the microwave. It

was six thirty-five. I looked at the kitchen window. The
early morning rays of the sun were beginning to show
themselves. Again. Jeff’s comments were correct.

Brody stood up and started towards the paint room.

“I can’t stop it. There’s nothing I can do.” He kept heading
to the paint room and finally stood in front of the canvas.

I called out. “Brody!”

I watched as the towel dropped to the floor and him

get pulled into the painting, turn and look out at me. He
smiled and was frozen. He was a part of the painting again.
I stood there in pain. There was nothing I could do.
Knowing he wasn’t feeling anything and totally unaware
made it a little easier to accept.

I went to the kitchen, cleaned up, putting everything

away and went to bed. I was helpless.

It was early afternoon when I woke up. I ran in, to

look at the painting. Nothing had changed. I headed to the
kitchen and started fixing some spaghetti sauce. If by some
chance Brody was to return again that night, he’d have
something to eat other than sandwiches. When done, I set
the pot aside. I got out a big pot, filled it with water, got out
the package of spaghetti and set it on the counter.

That done, I headed to bed. I set the clock for eleven-

thirty. If Brody was to return, I’d be there to greet him.
 I was awakened by the alarm on the clock. I reached
over, shut it off, reset it for midnight and got out of bed.
Quickly, I ran to the kitchen and turned on the gas under the
big pot of water. Then, I went to the bathroom, getting a big
bath towel, immediately headed to the paint room and looked
at the painting. There was no difference. I folded the towel
and set it aside. I pulled up a chair about six feet in front of
the painting, sat down and waited.

After a while, I heard the alarm clock go off. I stared

at the painting. At that moment, I saw movement.

Within seconds, Brody stepped out of the painting

with a huge smile on his face. “You do know we’re going to
have to stop meeting like this.” He started to snicker.

I quickly stood up and ran over to him, hugging him

tightly. “Brody. I know it’s crazy, but I’m so glad to see you
again. Come. I have fixed spaghetti for you.” I grabbed the
towel. “Here. This is for you.” Taking his hand, we headed
to the kitchen. On the way, I shut off the alarm.

As we walked to the kitchen, Brody wrapped himself

with the towel before sitting down. I went over to the stove.
The water was boiling. In went the spaghetti and I ladled out
some sauce into a bowl, sticking it into the microwave to
heat it up. A few pieces of bread with some butter and garlic
powder went into the toaster oven. Fork and spoon went to
the table. Next, a glass of iced tea was ready for him.

Shortly, all was ready and I put everything on the

table. “I hope you like my spaghetti.” I grinned.

Brody picked some up with his fork and put it in his

mouth, ate and swallowed. “Oh. Geez. This is great. If you
can cook like this all the time, didn’t you tell me they now
allow us to marry?”
 We both broke out in raucous laughter.

For the next two nights, it was the same. Brody

would arrive at midnight and leave at dawn. The next day, I
had to go to work. Before Brody returned to the canvas, I
took some photos of him with my cell phone and some
selfies of us together.

I had to laugh to myself. Jeff was standing at the

door when I arrived at work. “Okay. ‘Enquiring minds want
to know.’”

“All right. At break.”

We both did a high-five.

Taking our break, Jeff looked at the pictures. “Holy

cow. Brody is one totally handsome dude. Wow.” He
looked at me. “So, he came back!”

“Yes. And you’re right. He comes out of the painting

at midnight and goes back as the sun comes up.”

“Well. What are you going to do? This is so damn

weird.”

“Yes. I know. But I really like the times I’m sharing

with him. And I don’t care when it happens, I’ll deal with
it.”

Jeff smiled. “Hey. If I had a man like that around,

I’d deal with it, too.”

We both gave a ‘thumbs-up’.

 The next several months, Brody would come and go.
We had no control over it. I slowly got accustomed to the
timing. I also got very accustomed to him.

Brody was so apologetic about the time but he

couldn’t help it. “If you ever get tired of me, you can paint
over the canvas.” He looked at me with sad eyes.

What he said almost broke my heart. “Brody. Oh,

my God. I’ll never grow tired of you. I’ve come to care
about you. You’re someone special to me.”

He gave me a big smile. “I’ve come to care about

you as well. I’m not sure but I think my mind thinks about
you when I’m in the painting.”

We stood up and hugged.

It was true. I was becoming extremely attached and

connected with him. It didn’t matter he came from another
century. Somehow, I’d deal with it.

Our nights were spent talking and watching

documentaries on TV or movies. It was helping Brody know
and learn about modern times. I also showed him how all
the facilities in the bathroom worked. It made him smile.

Jeff and I talked, during our breaks. “How are things

going? You seem so much happier.”

“Jeff. Brody is growing on me. I know it’s an insane

situation but I really care about and for him.”

“What’s going to happen if something happens to

you, God forbid?”

“Yes. Yes. I know. I don’t know. I’m not sure what

to do about that.”
 “I must tell you. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes. I
don’t know what I’d do, either.”

I changed the subject. “By the way, Harold has some

stuff he needs to take care of and I told him I’d work a
double tomorrow. I’ll tell Brody I won’t be there until
around four in the morning. He knows where everything is
and can take care of himself. Did I mention he’s still
enamored with the hot and cold running water and the
flushing commode?”

We laughed.

That night I explained about my work schedule for

the next night. Brody completely understood and thought it
nice of me to help out. He liked that quality in people.

Before he had to go back into the painting again, I

hugged him and looked into his smiling face. “Brody. You
know you’re so special to me. I’ll see you tomorrow night
but it’ll be just a short time before you have to go back in
again.”

His eyes sparkled. “I don’t care. Even if I get to see

you only for a few moments before I have to go back, it’ll
make me happy.”

We hugged each other tightly.

Moments later, Brody was pulled into the painting,

turned and looked out at me. He called out. “You know, I
love you?” A big smile filled his face. Instantly, he was the
painting.

I stood there in shock. It finally became totally clear.

I loved him as well. I didn’t care how ridiculous our
situation was. Somehow, we’d deal with it. I heard his
words in my head and I smiled. Tears began to run down my
face. I couldn’t wait to get home again the next night to tell
him I felt the same way. I spoke softly as I stared at the
painting. “Brody. I love you, too.”

It was time to get ready for work. I took my shower

and got dressed.

Jeff was arriving at the same time. “Good morning!

And how are things with you?” He smiled.

“Jeff. He told me he loved me.” I grinned.

“Really? Really? Oh. Wow. That’s heavy. Wow.”

He looked hard at me. “And what about you?”

“He said it just as he went into the painting. I can’t

help it. I know it’s crazy but I love him, too. I’ll tell him
when I get home tonight.”

“You mean tomorrow morning since you’re working

a double.”

We both nodded our heads.

I was so happy, I didn’t have time to think about how

tired I was. I was on cloud nine. I was loved by a wonderful
man and I was in love with him. Yes. There were obstacles
but somehow, we would work them out.

At six-thirty that evening, Jeff was leaving to go

home. He called out. “I’ll see you in three days. Have a
good time off. I have to work tomorrow but it’s okay.
They’re going to pay me overtime. And you. Drink more
coffee. It’ll keep you awake till you can go home.” He
smiled and waved as he left the restaurant.
 At midnight, I knew Brody had come out of the
canvas. It would be the first time I wasn’t there for him. It
was stupid to worry. He was a grown man and could take
care of himself.

Three-thirty in the morning arrived and it was time

for me to go. Everyone thanked me for filling in and helping
out. I knew they appreciated it. I worked with a great bunch
of folks.

Coming to the area where my apartment was located,

I saw the streets were blocked off, so I parked at the curb,
locked the car and headed down the sidewalk. When I
turned the corner to my street, I looked down to my
apartment building. It was fully ablaze. My heart broke and
I let out a loud scream. “BRODY! THE PAINTING! NO!
NO! NO!” I went running as fast as I could towards the
building. There were people all standing around looking up
at the fire. I screamed out. “OUT OF MY WAY! OUT OF
MY WAY! NO! NO! I HAVE TO SAVE THE PAINTING!
I HAVE TO SAVE IT! BRODY! BRODY!” I continued to
scream.

I pushed my way through the people and started

running to the building. I was screaming. “THE
PAINTING! THE PAINTING! I HAVE TO SAVE THE
PAINTING! BRODY! BRODY!”

Just then, a fireman grabbed me. “You can’t go in

there. Everything is gone. It’s all gone.”

I was crying and screaming. “But I have to save the

painting! Brody! Brody!”

The fireman spoke. “I’m so sorry but everything is

gone. Your painting is gone. And if your Brody was in
there, he is gone as well. I’m so sorry.”
 I looked through tear-filled eyes at the burning
structure. I could see nothing would be salvageable in such a
blaze. My whole body went limp and I fell to the ground. I
screamed. “BRODY! BRODY! I didn’t get to tell you!
Brody! I love you! I love you!” I screamed and cried,
pounding the pavement with my fists. I heard the fireman
speak again. “Let me help you.”

I cried out. “No! I want to die! My Brody is gone.

My Brody is in the fire.” I kept pounding the pavement.

I felt him let me go and I lay there in total anguish

and pain. I was crying and screaming. “Brody! Brody!
Brody!”

Just moments passed when I felt two hands grab me

again and started pulling me up. I cried out. “I don’t want to
live. My Brody is in there and I want to die. I love him and
I want to go to him.”

Then, I heard a voice, calm and sure. “No. Your

Brody isn’t dead. He’s right here and he loves you so
much.”

I quickly gathered my wits and stood up, turning

toward the voice. There, a towel around his waist with a
fireman’s coat over his shoulders stood Brody. A big smile
was on his face.

I grabbed him and hugged him as tight as I could.

“Oh, Brody! I do love you! I do! I do!”

He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back,

looking into my face. “I’m here. I’m here. Come with me.”

We walked slowly through the many who were

standing and watching, to one of the firemen. He took the
coat off and handed it to the man. “I want to thank you so
much for the use of the coat but we can now go get
something else for me to wear. Thank you so much.”

The fireman smiled. “You’re so welcome and we’re

so sorry about your place going up. I hope you can find
something else soon.”

We then went to a place down and away from the

drama. We sat down on a bench seat at a bus stop.

“Oh, Brody. You got out. How? What happened?” I

kept wiping my tears with my sleeve.

“I came out of the painting and immediately could

smell smoke. I knew something wasn’t right. I made my
way to the bathroom in the dark as the lights did not work.
That made me realize something was terribly wrong. I got a
towel, wrapped it around myself and heard all the
commotion outside down in the street.

I went to the window and looked out. That’s when I

saw people down below. They saw me and started pointing
up at me and shouting. Suddenly, a long ladder came
swinging over with a guy on it. I found out he was a fireman
and had come to help me down and out of the building. I
opened the window and he helped me climb onto the ladder
and I climbed down. That’s when I realized he’d saved me
just in time. Almost instantly, that part of the building
became a wall of fire.

Brody smiled at me. “I was so lucky. I made it out.

Now, I’m here with you.”

I looked at Brody. “Brody. Oh. No. It’s not over.

The fire. It has burned up the canvas. The painting is gone.
Now, you have no place to return. When the sun comes up,
you will disappear, fading into nothingness. I’ll lose you
forever. And there’s nothing I can do.”
 We stood up and hugged tightly.

“Brody. I don’t want to lose you. I now know I love

you and I don’t want you to go away from me.”

“If it is to be, hold me close till the sun comes up.

And know I’ll love you forever and will wait for you on the
other side.”

“Oh, Brody. Brody.” I couldn’t stop crying.

As we stood there, I could see the dawn coming.

Within moments, the sun would be rising above the horizon.

I looked up into Brody’s face. “Brody. I love you so

much.”

Brody smiled. “I will always love you, you silly

goose.”

I put my head on his upper chest. Just then, the rays

of the sun pierced the darkness, bringing the light of a new
day. I hugged Brody tightly. Several moments went by and I
was still holding him. More time passed and I was still
holding him. The day had come and he was still in my arms.
I pulled back and looked up at him.

Brody had his head tilted back and his eyes were
closed as if waiting for death to take him.

I whispered, “Brody. It’s day and you’re still here.”

He opened his eyes. He looked all around and then at

me. “It is. It’s daylight and I’m still here. I don’t
understand. Since the painting is destroyed, I should be
gone.”
 I began to laugh through my tears. “Maybe by the
painting being burned, without you in it, you’re now free.
Oh, Brody. Maybe you’re free.”

He looked around again. “Let’s not be too hasty.

Maybe there’s some delay.”

Just then, a news crew came walking up. The man

reporting came over. “It looks like you two gentlemen
somehow survived.” He looked at Brody. “Weren’t you the
guy who was on the ladder earlier just before the front of the
place went up? You have to be. He was wearing only a
towel just like you’re doing. Yeah. And we got it all on
camera.”

Brody smiled. “Why, yes. I was lucky that ladder

was there.”

The reporter looked Brody up and down. “And you

got out with just a towel. Wow.” The cameraman moved his
camera slowly up and down, showing Brody’s naked body,
wearing only the towel. The reporter chuckled as he looked
at Brody. “I’m sure glad a handsome man like you didn’t get
burned up in there. Yeah. That would’ve been one hell of a
shame. And trust me, I can tell you that film footage will
assuredly make the six o’clock news tonight.”

We all began to laugh.

The reporter spoke again. “Jerry Richards. Here’s

my card.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a
business card, handing it to me. “After all this has settled
down, give me a call. I’d like to talk with you. With you
both. For some reason, something tells me there’s a real
story here. I’m so sorry you lost everything in the fire.”
 I looked at Jerry, smiled then at Brody. “Nope. The
most important of all is standing here next to me. I didn’t
lose him.”

Jerry smiled. “Well. Now, I KNOW there’s a real

story here. Let me go interview a few more folks and a
fireman or two. But call me. Seriously. I want to talk with
you all.”

I smiled. “I will. And trust me. When you hear what

we have to tell you, you’re not going to believe it. Thank
you, Jerry.”

Jerry headed off with his cameraman.

I looked at Brody. “Is everything still all right?”

“I still feel fine. No fading yet.” A big Cheshire Cat

grin instantly filled his face.

I gave him a scolding look. “Don’t even joke about

it. Geez.”

He grabbed me and hugged me. He looked up into

the air. “Thank you, God, for letting this wonderful man
bring me back to life.”

Suddenly, my cell phone rang. It was Jeff. He heard

about the fire as he was getting ready for work. I told him all
was well. He told me I could come stay with him while I
was looking for a new place to live. He was ecstatic when I
told him Brody was with me. He really was shocked he
didn’t disappear when the sun came up. “Come by work and
get the key to my apartment and you all can get settled in.”

First stop, we went by Walmart and picked up a few

clothes for Brody. When they realized it was my apartment
building that burned, they donated the clothes to me and told
me to come back when I had time and get more. The store
manager was wonderful and I thanked him profusely.

Then, we went by work. Jeff said he’d see us when

he got home that evening.

The folks at work totally understood the situation and

Jeff came home early. He helped us get settled in his second
bedroom.

That night we sat and watched the local evening

news. There was spectacular coverage of the fire. Then,
there was footage of Brody and me. I had to chuckle at the
slow scan of Brody from top to bottom, wearing only his
towel.

Jeff called out. “Hot. Damn. Oh. Yeah. Brody.

Wow! You DO have it going on!”

We all started cheering.

For the next several days, people were so kind and

helpful with clothes and monetary donations. All my regular
customers were fantastic. It was going to make it so much
easier to start over again.

Finally, I called Jerry. He wanted to sit us down and

interview us. We made an appointment and went. When he
heard the full story, he was floored. Especially, when he saw
the pictures I had taken of the painting right after it was
finished. He definitely wanted copies of those. And also the
ones of Brody, standing in front of the painting with him, not
in it.

He wondered if I still had the information on my cell

phone for the GPS the day I found the canvas. I told him it
might be there as I hadn’t used it since and I rarely deleted
anything. I gave him the phone. He said he had techies who
could do anything. If possible, he wanted to go back to the
old house and see about maybe finding some history on the
place. He even gave me a loaner phone to use till he was
finished with mine which he actually returned in just a few
days.

He also told us several modeling companies had

called, wanting to know who Brody was and if he was
available for work. They were excited because he wasn’t
some young thing. They were looking for mature men and
indicated with his handsome good looks, he’d be good for at
least twenty more years of modeling. Brody was extremely
happy there was work for him. We told Jerry how thankful
we were for him letting them know we’d contact them.

Jerry also indicated with the kind of money Brody

would be making, he could do some smart investing. By the
time Brody was ready to retire, he could write his own ticket.
“Yes. His name is James and he’s smart as a whip when it
comes to investments and stocks.”

Over the next few weeks, things started getting back

to normal. I went to work again. Brody started his modeling
schooling. Jeff was so very helpful and told us if we didn’t
want to leave he’d love for us to stay. I agreed only if we
paid two-thirds of the rent. I didn’t want us taking advantage
of him. We even talked about getting another apartment in
the same building. One that had three bedrooms. The third
one would be my new paint room.

Life was good and I was so happy.

About two months later, Jerry called and told us to

watch the news that night. Luckily, it was Jeff’s and my day
off, so we all sat there, waiting to hear his report.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Jerry Richards

here. Tonight I’m going to touch on a story I’m going to
present to you in the coming weeks as a special. I came
across it the night of that terrible fire in midtown. The story
is so incredible and impossible you’ll find it extremely
difficult to believe it’s true. I wouldn’t have thought so
myself until I became a part of it in doing the research.”

“It has to do with a handsome man from the fire.”

Immediately, Brody’s picture appeared on the TV. “It also
has to do with a sinister and evil preacher man, living in this
house back in the nineteenth century. It’s near the town of
Milton.” A photo of the old house where I got the canvas
appeared on the TV.

I yelled out. “Oh, my God. It’s the house.”

Brody cried out. “It’s the old preacher man’s house.”

Jerry continued. “I went to the old courthouse in

Milton and wouldn’t you know it? Down in the basement, I
found old files and records. You’d be surprised what I dug
up. Yeah. Especially, about that old preacher man. I even
found an old unsolved missing person’s report from June of
eighteen thirty-two. Yes. An unsolved mystery that’s almost
two hundred years old. It’s about a forty-year-old blacksmith
who disappeared for no reason and was never found. Well,
ladies and gentlemen. I found him. And you’re NOT going
to believe where I found him.” Jerry laughed and shook his
head. “Yes. There’s an amazing story here that’s going to
knock your socks off. I hope you will all stay tuned. Until
then, this is Jerry Richards. Goodnight.”

Jeff turned to Brody. “Oh, my God. You do realize

you’re going to be one famous dude.”

I smiled at Brody. “Brody. You’re free. You have a

new life. A new career. You’ll be able to make your own
way. You’re a handsome and sexy man. You deserve to go
out into the world and find someone who’s handsome and
sexy like yourself to be by your side. Please. I don’t want
you to feel any obligations towards me. It would hurt me
deeply if I found out you stayed with me because you felt
obligated to.”

Brody was looking at me. “But I love you.”

“But you haven’t had the chance to meet other

handsome men you might find more desirable. I don’t want
you to feel tied down or caged.” I shook my head. “If
people saw us walking down the street, do you know what
they’d be thinking? They’d be thinking. ‘What does that
handsome man see in Quasimodo?’ I know you have no idea
who Quasimodo is but Jeff does.”

Brody gave me a sad look. “I may be a backwoods

kind of guy but hey. Come on. Give me a little credit.
Quasimodo is the hunchback in the new novel that’s out.
The one by Victor Hugo. Everyone has been talking about it.
Came out last year. The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Yeah. I
read it. And you are no Quasimodo.” He paused. “Well. It
was last year. Back then.” He started to giggle.

Jeff looked at me. “Holy shit! The man is right.

You’ve always been so damn hard on yourself. I can’t tell
you how many times I’ve wanted to smack you one upside
the head for the comments you’ve made about yourself. And
Brody’s right. You’re NOT a Quasimodo. Why do you do
that, comparing yourself with other guys? That’s so stupid.
We are who we are, physically. What really matters is the
person inside us. Do you know how many good-looking and
handsome men I’ve met that were total jerks? And what’s so
sad is they were too shallow to realize they WERE jerks.
Don’t you understand why your customers love you? You’re
an incredibly cool and fun guy. Plus, you’re kind and caring
and considerate. Geez.”
 Jeff paused. “And here is a handsome man. Yes, but
I’ve watched him over the time we’ve all been together and
it couldn’t be more obvious. He loves you! You crazy man!
He loves you more than words can say.”

Brody nodded his head. “Jeff is right. Let me tell

you. Back in my time, I knew and met several but they
never meant anything. I never felt anything for them. They
were fun, that’s all. Recently, I’ve met several what people
would call handsome and sexy men at the modeling school.
But I feel nothing for them. They’re not you. Oh, true.
They might be fun for a fling or a sexual encounter but I
don’t love them. It’s you I love. You silly goose. I can’t
imagine loving anyone else.”

I smiled. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel

shortchanged. Oh, Brody. I love you so much.”

Brody stood up. “Come over here, you silly goose.

Hug me and tell me you love me again. I like hearing it.”
He had a huge smile on his face.

I walked over and hugged him. “Brody. I do love

you.”

Jeff smiled. “Now! That’s more like it.”

We both stood there hugging each other. I knew from

then on my life was going to be amazing and filled with love.

The End