Chapter 5

Adam’s commute to Waller’s Pawn Shop wasn’t very far, but somehow it still managed to take him past four and a half churches. The first was the Trinity United Church of Christ, a huge brown building. However, this wasn’t the actual Trinity United Church of Christ; from what he had heard, this seemed to be some sort of day-care variant. On the next street over was the Bibleway Church of Chicago, a tiny apartment-sized building and part of an otherwise vacant one-storey “duplex” setup. Then again, he wasn’t sure if it was actually a church, though. It seemed more like a book club for people who liked to read and discuss the Bible. So, he didn’t count it, but because it had “Church” in its name, he considered it as a half.

            Right behind the Bibleway was the second actual church he passed: West 95 Oakdale Missionary. This one was a red brick building, about the size of a house. The one time he’d decided to go out of his way to look at it, he’d seen a sign on it with the words, in all capital letters, “CHURCH SERVICES”. It was a small church, but a church nonetheless.

            The third church, again on the next street over, was the St. Matthew-Gordon A.M.E. Zion Church, a Methodist establishment of some sort. On the corner of the street leading up to it, there was a billboard that hadn’t changed as long as he’d seen it that read “Our produce prices make competitors GREEN with envy!” It had been funny at first, but his contempt for it grew every time he saw it. He also walked past a place called the “ABC Learning Center”, which scared him to no end because he was fairly certain that at least part of its logo (maybe the e-mail address written on it) had been typed in Comic Sans.

            Just before the double train tracks that he had to pass to get to the pawn shop was the actual Trinity United Church of Christ. This Trinity was huge, much more so than the other one, and beige instead of brown. In front of it was a billboard that had an advertisement for McDonalds on it, and for some reason he still found this one funny, even though it never should’ve been funny to begin with.

            On the other side of the tracks was Waller’s Pawn Shop . . . which was squashed between an unpurchased building and an establishment titled “The Universal Church”.

            He had never known why the Washington Heights and Roseland areas of Chicago seemed to have so many churches densely packed into it. He also knew that he never would know, though, so it was a fact that he quietly accepted most of the time. But today, as he walked past Oakdale Missionary in the pouring rain, the churches seemed to be mocking him. To him, an unreligious man, one of the few things that churches represented to him was marriage, and the sanctity of the vows involved. Now, his wife was cheating on him. Those vows were broken, and he couldn’t bring himself to confront her about it. He hated how many churches he had to walk past. Why were there so many churches?

            But why should the churches bother me? I’m not the one cheating on my spouse!

            He shook his head at nothing. There was no reasoning with himself. He would feel guilty in the presence of the churches regardless of anything his rationality suggested, whether it was correct or not.

            When he opened the door to the pawn shop, he was at least relieved that Jesse wasn’t blaring music this time. That meant that he didn’t have to punch him in the face. Instead, he was sitting at his computer, and when he door opened, he looked past the screen. Upon realizing that it was Adam, he smiled and opened his mouth to say something, but held his tongue when he noticed the sullen look on his face. He watched his friend start dragging himself toward the bathroom, and didn’t say anything until he was almost at the door.

            “Hey, is everything all right?” he asked. “You don’t look so hot.”

            Adam struggled to compose himself, and somehow was able to manage a small smile back at Jesse. Then, he hummed indecisively and shrugged. Instead of giving Jesse the chance to respond, he hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind himself.

            At the sink, he splashed cold water over his face. It caused him to flinch and attempt to shake the water off. Now more alert, he looked at his reflection. His suffering was all in his head, he convinced himself. If he could detach himself from that part of his mind and pretend that it didn’t exist, then maybe he could seem fine. He could trick himself into ignoring Larisa’s affair. That way, nothing would need to change, and he wouldn’t risk losing anyone by pushing them away.

            She’ll stay with me if she thinks I don’t know. I can’t tell anyone that I do.

            So, he forced the misery off of his face. His neutral expression stared back at him in his reflection, and he studied it. It made him look tired and serious, but that was how he always looked, so it would cause no concern to anyone. It was only after he changed into his work shirt that he found himself wondering why he didn’t want to lose Larisa.

            Haven’t I already lost her? She’s sleeping with another man.

            But he loved her, and she loved him.

            If she loved me, would she really be able to cheat on me?

            He’d come back full circle into the argument he’d had with himself that morning. Realizing this, he let out a low groan and rinsed his face with cold water again.

            After he stepped out of the bathroom, having neglected to slick back his hair this time, Jesse looked at him again. His friend didn’t seem any less concerned at the discovery that he no longer looked miserable.

            Probably because he knows that I hide my feelings most of the time.

            He sat down beside Jesse, as usual, but paid no attention to his staring. Twenty seconds of awkward silence and stillness passed.

            “You know you don’t fool me,” Jesse pointed out.

            “I know,” admitted Adam, “but I can fool others.”

            “What’s the matter?”

            For a long moment, Adam had to consider whether he wanted to tell Jesse the truth. On one hand, he might be able to provide him some comfort or reassurance. On the other, if he felt that Adam was being silly, he might share the confession with Larisa, for “laughs”. So, instead of speaking, he only shook his head.

            Jesse sighed, defeated, knowing that there would be no admittance of any problem on Adam’s end. He knew that his friend hated being a burden, and also that he seemed to hate even more relying on others for emotional comfort. He couldn’t open himself up to people—a fear of being vulnerable. Aware of this, he didn’t press the issue further, and Adam, well aware that this was his reasoning, appreciated it.

The skinny man turned to his computer, again examining his F******k feed. “So,” he started, “no progress on any videos, then?”

            Adam glanced at him and took a beat to consider what to say. “Actually, I’m working on one now.”

            “Oh, really? Because of the train tracks, right?”

            Adam nodded. He didn’t feel like talking.

            “What’s it about? Trains?”

            “Sort of,” Adam mumbled.

            “Well, I’m glad you’re getting back into the swing of things.” Then, there was another awkward lull in the conversation. Once it had dragged on for a full minute, Adam looked over at Jesse. The taller man was scrolling down his feed, but wasn’t reacting to any of the posts. His facial expression was betraying the calmness he was otherwise trying (and failing) to express.

            “Is everything all right with you?” Adam asked when he finally found the will to speak.

            “Hmm?” Jesse turned his head, making eye contact with Adam. Too apathetic to care, Adam held the gaze.

            “You seem nervous.”

            “Nervous?” Jesse tittered. “No, I’m . . .” Then, he frowned and sighed, turning his eyes down to the floor. He thought for a moment, and then confessed, “It’s, uh . . . It’s my dad. He’s . . . sick.”

            Adam narrowed his eyes. He wanted to feel bad for Jesse, and to offer him comfort. But for some reason, his gut was telling him that he was being lied to.

            “That’s terrible,” he droned, still staring at his friend the same way he’d been when their eyes had met. “With what?”

            “That’s just it, I don’t know. He’s, uh, at the hospital today, getting himself checked out.”

            “Oh. Well, let me know what comes of that.”

            “Sure, if he lets me know.” Jesse shook his head, exasperated, before returning to his F******k feed. He still seemed sort of off, but he appeared more than content to change the subject and act like nothing was bothering him.

            The phone rang, and for a few seconds, neither of them reacted. But then, Jesse snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in and picked up the phone.

            “Hello, Waller’s Pawn Shop,” he began in a cheery tone. “This is Jesse; how can I help you today?” As he listened to the customer on the other line, he saw Adam in his peripheral vision, still staring at him. He raised a brow and shrugged, then mouthed “What?”

            Adam realized that he hadn’t moved at all in too long and shook his head before turning on the stool he sat on and gazing forward.

            “What was that? Oh, camcorders? Yes, we’ve got quite a few of those.” Jesse paced over to the display cases that contained the electronics, a bit deeper into the store. “Were you looking for a specific brand?”

            Adam’s phone dinged with a new notification. He had to force himself to look at it by convincing himself that it might be a text from Larisa. Instead, it was another direct message on Twitter, from none other than Evangeline. Though he didn’t want to check it, curiosity got the better of him. With a deep sigh, he tapped the notification.

            “Adam,” her message began, “I know you must be busy, but I need some advice. You’re the only person I have to turn to for this. I’m feeling pretty down about it.” She concluded the message with a frowning emoji.

            He sighed and glanced over at Jesse. The skinny man was still engrossed in the phone call, so he decided to answer Evangeline.

            “Advice about what? – Adam”.

            The ellipses bubble showed up, indicating that she was typing a response. As he waited, he looked again at Jesse, who was still looking through the camcorders.

            “Sorry, no, we don’t have any Sony,” he was saying. “But may I recommend a Samsung? Yes, Samsung. Yeah, they make camcorders, too.”

            He looked back at his phone. Evangeline had finally finished her message.

            “Well, I like to draw, I guess. But people don’t like my art. My latest drawing in particular has been getting a lot of negative criticism, and I’m not sure if I want to keep doing art. It’s pretty rough, since I worked really hard, and I was proud of it. If people don’t like it, though . . . I mean, should I stop?”

            Of course, being an artist himself, Adam could relate to Evangeline’s plight. When he had first started working on surreal art in high school, he had received almost nothing but negative criticism. His art teacher hadn’t been able to find the artistic value in anything that he did, and his peers liked to mock the deep meanings he gave his pieces. So, moved back into some degree of emotion by the relation, he told her his honest opinion.

            “Whatever you do is your decision, Evangeline, but I encourage you to reconsider if you do decide to give up. I was in the same boat as you a long time ago, but I’m not going to lie to you and say that the negativity will stop at some point. Being an artist is difficult. Everyone has their own opinions about what makes ‘good art’, and because of that, you will always feel vulnerable. But if you enjoy making art, please don’t stop. While there will always be people who don’t like your work, there will also be people who love your work.

            “For example, I have fans like you, don’t I? I wouldn’t if I had given up after I got negative criticism. My advice to you is, instead of giving up, try to make something positive of the criticism. I know it’ll be hard, but try to ask them what they didn’t like, and why. I find that the harshest criticism is often the most honest, and if you use it correctly, it can be a great tool to help you improve. – Adam”.

            He read over the long message a few times, worrying that he might have said something wrong. But then, he scolded himself.

            Don’t overthink it. Just send it.

            So, he tapped the Send button, and the message appeared as a long blue bubble in the conversation. There was a delay, Evangeline taking in every word of the message, before she began a response. But, he cut her off with another message of his own.

            “May I see the piece that you’re worried about? – Adam”.

            “Oh, I don’t know . . .”

            “If you’re not comfortable sharing it with me, that’s fine. I’m just curious. – Adam”.

            “Well, I did make it for you, so . . . I guess . . .”

            He raised a brow. Then, she sent the picture, and for a long moment, he stared at it, unsure of how to react.

            It was a portrait of him, done in colored pencil. It was clearly done from eye, using one of his pictures on Twitter as a reference, but there were some stylized changes; different eyes with somewhat bolder lashes, for example. He brought his hand up to his mouth as he took in the drawing. Taken as a photo off of her phone, the quality wasn’t the best, but the lowered quality somehow gave it a more oil painting-esque look, and he loved it. He was touched; no one had ever drawn him before.

            On the left side of the drawing, in orange and red, she had written “Adam Keir”. The dot above the “i” in his surname was drawn instead as a heart. There was a signature under his name, done in elegant, curly letters. It was hard to make out, but he was able to figure out what it said: “~ Eve”.

            Eve? As in . . . Adam and Eve?

            The biblical allusion was not lost on him, but he couldn’t decide if it was intentional or not, so he decided not to comment on it. Still, somehow, it put a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, though it did little to sour his reception of the drawing.

            “What do you think? You don’t hate it, do you?” Evangeline fretted. “Everyone says that my style makes it look weird, and that the proportions are off, and that it’s not realistic enough . . . I feel like I didn’t do you justice, and I hope I didn’t offend you with it. I just wanted to draw you, because I think you’re really handsome, and I got inspired. I’m sorry if it’s weird!” She used the “folded hands” emoji to represent her praying for forgiveness.

            “Don’t be,” he told her, “I love it. Your art style is gorgeous. – Adam”.

            “You really think so?” Smiling face emoji.

            “Of course. The way you use pencil crayons is lovely, as is the shading. Don’t let the criticism bring you down; you’ve got talent, Evangeline. – Adam”. He meant every word, and not just because the drawing was of him. He admired the light shading she had done, and almost envied her apparent knack for traditional art. He’d never been very good at coloring on paper.

            “Oh, thank you so much! It’s nowhere near as nice as your art, but I like how it came out. I’m so happy that you like it, too!”

            “I think it’s much better than my art,” he told her.

            “Aww, thank you! That’s so sweet!” Love point emoji.

            “Got it,” Jesse said to the customer on the phone. “Sounds good. All right, see you then.” He hung up.

            “Are we finally selling one of those camcorders?” asked Adam. “They’ve been sitting there forever.”

            “Yep, if she likes what she sees.”

            “Do any of them even work? We haven’t tested them since we got them.”

            “Oh, I’m sure they do,” Jesse said, but he didn’t look as certain as he sounded. “I wouldn’t, uh, worry about it.”

            Adam put his head in his hand and shook it with another deep sigh. It was going to be a long day.