“Yes.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Uhhh . . . maple bars, I guess?”
“Shut up, me too! I know this place that’s open twenty-four hours. They make maple bars as big as my arm. Wanna go?”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Why do you think I brought it up?”
“Okay. Can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course.” He pointed to the only other door beside the front door.
Once there, I checked my hair and reapplied lip gloss. I stared at myself in the mirror and mouthed, What are you doing?
“Come on, Gidget! Let’s get those donuts!” he called from the kitchen area.
“One sec!”
When I opened the door, he was standing on the other side with his shoulders slumped. He looked dejected. He raised his gaze from the floor to my eyes.
“Hi,” he said, his voice low.
“What’s wrong? You were excited about donuts thirty seconds ago.”
“I’m still excited about the donuts. I just got sad thinking that this night will eventually have to end.”
My heart thumped. “Well, let’s make it last as long as possible.”
He smiled. “I’m in. Oh, and you’re beautiful. Did I tell you that already?”
I didn’t say anything. He could tell me as many times as he wanted to.
“Donut time,” I said.
We held hands down the stairs. At the bottom, I realized it had gotten way colder out. “Oh shit, I forgot my sweater.”
“I’ll get it.” He quickly ran back up and returned with my sweater and a backpack.
“What’s in there?”
“Just some stuff. You want to help me?”
“Help you what?”
“Paint something. We have to be fast, though.”
My heart raced. “What?”
He pulled me along, “Come on, kitten.”
“You promised me donuts.” I was suddenly worried about getting arrested.
“Your payment for being my assistant will be a giant maple bar. I’ll even feed it to you.”
4. Blind Eye
We ran down the street, hand in hand, but at the end of the block, he pulled me back from the curb and slapped his hand over his chest like he was having a heart attack. “Oh jeez, I thought there was a car coming. Sorry.”
It was completely quiet out—not a car on the road or even the sound of one in the distance. At least he was being careful? We crossed the street and then he stopped in front of a concrete wall about two blocks down from his loft. “I only have enough paint for a small one.” He removed two small cans of paint and about twelve brushes. Then he started painting frantically.
“Holy shit. What am I supposed to do?”
“Keep watch.” It felt like the craziest thing I had ever done, but it wasn’t like he was defacing the building; he was creating art.
He was hyperfocused. His hood was up and he was humming a mindless tune. “I think this will make sense someday,” he mumbled.
After what seemed like hours, I turned around.
“Voilà,” he said.
It was a profile of a man, wearing a black suit and top hat and looking down at his feet hovering off the ground. The only other color Adam used was baby blue to paint a stunning set of wings sprouting from the man’s back. “Wow. That’s breathtaking, Adam. What is this?”
“It’s a man with wings, genius.”
“I know that, genius, but what did you mean when you said it’ll make sense someday?”
“Did I say that?”
Behind him, I saw headlights in the distance. “We better go. Are you going to sign it?”
“Nope.”
I looked at it one last time. Adam’s brushwork bore a striking resemblance to the mural on the side of my building. “Adam, did you paint those wolves on my building?”
“What wolves?”
Guess not. “Let’s go.” I took a picture of it with my phone and texted it to Helen.
Me: Adam just painted this!
Helen: Glad you’re alive. It’s not even 1 am yet so I haven’t reported you.
Me: I’m going to get donuts now.
Helen: With spontaneous artist dude?
Me: Yeah, my dad would be over the moon.
Helen: Yeah, he would disown you.
Me: I like him, H.
Helen: Figures. Does this mean I’ll see you in the morning?
Me:
Remember when I said I was a bit scattered? It wasn’t just when it came to jobs. I had a slew of strange ex-boyfriends, too. There was George, who liked to wear my underwear . . . everyday. Not just to prance around in—he wore them under his Levi’s at work. As a construction worker. That didn’t go over well with his co-workers once they found out. He works at Jamba Juice now. I don’t think anyone cares about what kind of underwear he wears at Jamba Juice.
Then there was Curtis. He had an irrational fear of El Caminos. Yes, the car. He just hated them so much that he became really fearful of seeing one. He’d say, “I don’t understand, is it a car or a truck?” The confusion would bring him to tears. When we were walking on the street together, I had to lead him like a blind person because he didn’t want to open his eyes and spot an El Camino. If he did, it would completely ruin his day. He would cry out, “There’s another one. Why, God?” And then he would have to blink seven times and say four Hail Marys facing in a southerly direction. I don’t know what happened to Curtis. He’s probably in his house playing video games and collecting disability.
After Curtis came Randall, who will never be forgotten. He was an expert sign spinner. You know those people who stand on the corner spinning signs? Randall had made a career of it. He was proud and protective of his title as best spinner in LA. I met him when he was spinning signs for Jesus Christ Bail Bonds on Fifth Street. He was skillfully flipping a giant arrow that said, “Let God Free You!” and his enthusiasm struck me. I smiled at him from the turn lane. He set the sign down, waved me over, and asked for my phone number. We started dating immediately. He called himself an Arrow Advertising executive when people would ask what he did for a living. He could spin, kick, and toss that sign like it weighed nothing. But when he’d put his bright-red Beats by Dre headphones on, he could break, krump, jerk, turf, float, pop, lock, crip-walk, and b-boy around that six-foot arrow like nobody’s business. He was the best around and I really liked him, but he dumped me for Alicia, who worked at Liberty Tax in the same strip mall. She would stand on the opposite corner, wearing a Statue of Liberty outfit, and dance to the National Anthem. They were destined for each other.