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Chapter Sixteen

Sonnet

I was still riding the high from the night before as we sat down across from where my uncle stood, waiting for us to be seated before he pulled the chair out.

While he’d never been one for socializing, I’d been surprised over the years of living with him to learn that he possessed deeply ingrained, though somewhat old-school, manners.

“Uncle Bruce, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Mistress Harper.”

Would he think it weird that I introduced her that way?

It took me a moment to realize that I didn’t care.

I was proud of the relationship we were forging, every aspect of it.

The thought of referring to her as just Harper had made my brain trip over itself trying to think of some other way of acknowledging the bond we shared.

It was easier to just be honest, despite not knowing if he was aware of the lifestyle I was now a part of.

He shocked me, as he’d often done when I was a teen, when he inclined his head and reached across the table to shake her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “And to learn that Sonnet has found someone who will be both protective and encouraging of her.”

“You know what a Mistress is?” I blurted.

“I do,” he acknowledged.

“Wow.”

“Don’t look so surprised, Honey Bun. Your old uncle has been around, even if I have made a practice of keeping you from discovering just how much.”

Stunned, I didn’t know what to say now that he’d made that little revelation.

He smiled one of those rare, charming smiles of his that he’d always reserved for the teachers who’d called him up to the school to complain about me drawing on the backs of my test sheets instead of taking the time to check my answers.

Somehow, he’d always wound up getting me out of whatever trouble I’d got myself into, something I’d always be eternally grateful for.

When I shot a look at my Mistress, seated to my right, I was a little thrown by the fact that it hadn’t disarmed her in any way.

She sat studious and stern as she peered across the table at him, no doubt remembering the conversation we’d had in my apartment, when I’d told her about my early days of living with him.

He didn’t seem thrown by it in the slightest, though, and contentedly sipped his water as he skimmed the menu.

“So, tell me,” he asked as he glanced up. “How did your art show go?”

“Oh my gosh, it was wonderful,” I explained.

“By the end of the night, all but two of the paintings had sold. We’re going to pick new ones out to hang tomorrow, and I have a second studio to work out of in her home.

Mistress Harper surprised me this morning with an amazing space full of light and windows I can stand at to people-watch when I’m in need of inspiration. ”

“Good for you!” he declared, smile growing even brighter. “I always hoped you’d be able to follow your dreams and make a career out of your art the way you wanted to.”

Now that left me with my mouth hanging open as the menu blurred, tears welling up, not only because of his approval but because he’d never said that to me before.

“If that’s the case, then why are you only telling her now how amazing her work is?”

Trust my Mistress to state the very question that had been tumbling through my mind.

His smile slipped then, and his shoulders slumped a little as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his attention solely on me.

“I should have. I should never have listened to some of the idiotic advice I was given not to encourage you to make a career out of being an artist. Even the folks at those damned parenting classes I attempted to take said that while it was good to encourage a child’s creativity, I’d be setting you up for failure if I let you think you’d be able to support yourself in that field. ”

“The whole starving artist assumption,” my Mistress murmured. “I wish people would give up that belief and start to realize that those who are truly skilled will always find a way to attract people to their work.”

“Wish there was someone like you to offer that counterpoint when she was a teen,” my uncle admitted.

“It’s taken me a long time to learn that grinding away in the workforce doesn’t have to be everyone’s fate just because societal norms say that’s what’s expected of us.

The older I get, the more I’ve started to realize that there are plenty of things I’d like to try my hand at and experiences I’ve been putting off that might not be possible if I keep on waiting for the right time or the perfect opportunity.

Gotta say, you’ve inspired my Honey Bun, and if you’ll take a look out the window right there, you’ll see the first of several new changes I’ve made in my life. ”

“What am I looking for?” I asked as I peered through the glass, but all I saw was vehicles in the parking lot, among them a gleaming cherry-red motorcycle.

“See the bike out there, the red one?” he said.

“Holy crap, is that yours?” I gasped.

I couldn’t make out any of the details besides the color, and even then it was only because he’d parked it beneath one of the lights in the middle of the parking lot, but what I could see was shiny and absolutely beautiful.

“Yup,” he replied. “I couldn’t think of a better way to tour the country, meet new people, and see some of the bands I’ve always hoped to catch before they retire or start dying off.”

I stared from him to the bike and back at him, waiting for the punchline, even if I’d never known him to pull pranks like this.

The occasional message written on a useless bit of toilet paper clinging to a near-empty roll giving me shit about never changing it and sad-faced stickers in the bottom of the cereal box after I’d put back less than two inches of cereal, but never anything this elaborate.

“You’re serious?” My Mistress said as I sat there silently confused and secretly pleased that he was planning to do something besides ramble around in his old apartment tinkering with little things he rarely finished.

“I am. My lease is up at the end of the month, and I’ve already sold the shit I don’t intend to carry with me,” he explained. “It’s time to just live life and be thankful for the opportunity, considering there aren’t many left in our family beside me and Sonnet.”

My Mistress glanced over at me, lips curling up into a smile. “Sounds like road trips run in the family.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been on one,” I admitted, “that’s why I’m dying to load up in the RV with you.”

“Never been on one either,” her uncle seconded.

“Never thought I’d want to go on one, either, but the urge started to hit a few years ago, and it’s only gotten worse with every birthday that ticks past. Figured that if I put it off any longer, it was never going to happen, so I decided to just go for it. ”

“Alone?”

“You know me, Honey Bun, I’ve never been a fan of people.”

I sighed at that and smiled across the table at him.

“Yeah, I know, though I kind of always expected you to get a girlfriend once I moved out. I get why you never brought anyone around while I was living there, and I appreciate it. I don’t know how I would have handled someone poking their noses into our lives or trying to tell me what to do, but I will never understand why you stayed single all these years. ”

“I think you will,” he explained. “In time. Think about the way you feel right now, sitting beside Harper. Someone would have to be a fool not to notice how much you already care from her, just from the looks you shoot her when you think she’s not looking.”

“I love her.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t you want that too?” I asked, confused and a bit sad for him.

“Oh, Honey Bun, I had that a long time ago,” he replied. “After he passed away, I never wanted to open myself up to that kind of heartbreak again.”

“H-he?”

“Was long before you were born,” he explained.

“Is that why you didn’t blink an eye when I told you I liked women?”

“One reason, yes, but your grandparents never blinked when I came out either,” he explained.

“My mom just warned me to always treat my partner right, and all my old man had to say about it was that he hoped I’d find someone who could put up with my bullshit ‘cause the bulk of his gray hairs had come from me.”

Snorting, I pressed my fingers to my lips and wrestled my laughter back under control while beside me, my Mistress snickered as a very perplexed-looking waitress stepped up to the table and eyed us like we’d lost our minds.

After she’d taken our orders and walked away, I turned my attention back to my uncle.

“Did he?” I asked, suddenly very curious about this secret part of his life my uncle had kept from me. “The man you loved. Did he put up with your, um…”

“My bullshit?” he asked when I didn’t dare finish the sentence while seated at the table beside my Mistress.

“Oh yeah and hit me with a healthy dose of his own, which just made life more interesting.”

“May I ask what happened to him?” My Mistress asked.