Chapter 15

They walked for what seemed like hours, talking, teasing each other. It was late and only a few orange rays survived of the summer sun.

As they walked, Jean remembered parks and streets she hadn't seen in many years. It felt almost nostalgic. She inhaled deeply the fresh evening breeze. They had stopped at a bench in the park and John had been talking for what seemed like centuries.

"Then in the upper part of the wall, we draw the sun, yellow on the outside, but pink on the inside, because the sun is secretly a softie, just like you."

Jean snapped back to reality.

"Why am I a softie?" she asked tentatively.

"Jean, for the last 15 minutes I have been explaining how I'm planning to paint the south wall of Jean's Café. I kinda need your feedback, you know? But you're not paying attention."

Jean smiled and ruffled his hair once more.

"Of course I'm not paying attention, I can't imagine these things like you do. You'll have to paint the whole thing first and then you'll have my feedback."

She closed her eyes and her smile grew wider.

"I hope you're not asking me to do like 10 revisions until you're satisfied."

Jean opened her eyes and her smile grew devious.

"Hmm... we won't know until we get there," she replied. "And once you paint the entire coffee shop, you could paint the outside as well."

"I could..."

"But with graffiti!"

"Graffiti? But I've never done graffiti before!"

"You'll have to learn, John. I'm sorry. But think of the possibilities." And she drew closer, whispering into his ear like the little devil's voice. "You can start with the Café but you could paint the entire city and no one will stop you."

John's eyes grew wide with excitement.

"Now that's gonna be a very naughty thing to do. Ah, but I'll enjoy every bit of it!"

They rose and started walking back home. By now, it was dark. The moon and stars gave barely enough light to keep them from hitting their foreheads against some lamppost.

"John, when did you decide you want to become an artist?"

"Oh, I took some classes last year. It's quite a recent hobby."

"Is it? But I thought you were in college."

"Ah, I am in college, but that's Philosophy not Arts. And before that I majored in something completely different. Wanna guess?"

"Darn, I don't know. Surprise me."

"Gender studies. And before that, I went to the theological seminary for high school."

"Geez, you certainly had no idea what you wanted to be," she laughed. "What for? You couldn't decide if you wanted to see Clement as a god or a sexual interest?"

"Hey, I won't take that! Clement may be an asshole, but he is hot!"

"Well I do hope I won't find his water pipe in any of your portraits."

"Hey, you!"

John laughed as he held his fist high and playfully teased a punch at Jean's shoulder. Jean accepted the first two punches with a laugh, but then decided it was enough and she would retaliate. So she caught his fist in her palm and took hold of it.

A cat passed by their feet, catching their attention for a moment. It purred and scratched itself against Jean, then against John, before leaving gracefully. Jean was mesmerized and didn't even realize she was still holding John's fist. Or did she?

"Enough watching cats, it's dark and we should get home," she continued.

"Jean?" John added glancing at his fist, still caught inside Jean's hand.

"Let's go", she insisted, dragging him along. John followed without any resistance. His fist made no attempt to escape from her grip.

"Such a lovely night isn't it?" she continued.

She couldn't see his face. She prayed he couldn't see her either. As they walked, her hand started unclenching the fingers one by one until his fist turned into an open hand. She held that open hand—its skin gentle, a bit sweaty, and certainly warm.

Eventually, she picked the smallest of them all, the pinky, and held it tight inside her palm. John didn't say another word.

"You always did what you wanted to do. You never planned ahead. You were always ready to face the consequences."

They walked the dark streets, and she held that pinky tighter. He didn't complain and he no longer trailed behind. He simply walked alongside her, just like they did all evening. Jean noticed how his steps once more matched her own, almost like clockwork.

"I—I'm just a simple guy," John tried to add.

His voice was a bit shaky, a bit embarrassed. Jean wondered if his face was lobster red at this point just like her own face certainly felt. Still, she was happy the dark of the night embraced them fully.

"Simple? There's nothing simple about you..."

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Her grip around his pinky turned into a soft embrace, her fingers caressing the little prisoner within their grasp. But the prisoner didn't seem to have any intention to escape.

"We're home," Jean noticed.

They stood there. Jean took a deep breath.

"It was beautiful," John said in a soft voice. "I wish this night would never end... well I guess see you tomorrow—"

"Wanna come upstairs?"