Chapter Text
Just before dawn on a cold Tuesday morning in October, Stede leveled a soft curse at his phone screen.
Still lying in bed, he held it close to his face and squinted. He knew that in exactly 37 seconds his alarm would chime, and he would have to exhume his exhausted body from his bed and start his morning. The air that churned through his white-walled corporate rental was cold, but at least the bed was warm. Getting up felt impossible, like scaling Mount Everest in flip flops, but every morning feels this way. Every morning may as well be Tuesday morning.
Right at the 12 second countdown mark, his screen lit up with an incoming call. The name read: The Ex-Mrs. (heart emoji). "Well, good morning, Mary,” Stede croaked into the phone. He realized his vocal cords weren't quite awake yet either.
"Hiya Stede. Sorry to call so early, but I do still remember your typical wake up time vividly, ha. Thought I'd catch you before you descend into your typical mad morning rush."
"Ah, that's okay. Is everything alright? With the kids?"
"Oh, of course! No worries about them at all. I was just going through and checking everything off my list for tonight's exhibition opening. Both Doug and I have been running around like headless chickens trying to tie up all the last-minute loose ends. This is a huge break for Doug's gallery, so everything needs to be perfect."
Stede nodded to himself. "I understand. This artist guy seems like a really big deal. I can't believe Doug's gallery will be the first one to ever exhibit his work."
"Oh, believe me, I know. Blackbeard is a legend here in the city, but it took years of convincing to get him to agree to this. These outsider artists, man. They think showcasing their art in a proper gallery instantly brands them as a sellout. I guess they just prefer defacing the walls of abandoned bus stations in the middle of the night, but what the fuck do I know?" Her eye roll was almost audible.
Stede chuckled. Mary was getting herself all worked up, and he didn't blame her. She was an accomplished and well-regarded artist in her own right, with several highly lauded but sparsely attended exhibitions under her belt. Stede knew she would love to receive half the attention and accolades that Blackbeard did, who she assumed just resented it all.
"Well, I'm sure after tonight this infamous Blackbeard character will have changed his tune about exhibitions. The preview of the gallery I saw the other day was stunning."
"Aw Stede. See, this is why you are my favorite ex-husband." Mary laughed affectionately.
Stede snickered. "Probably your only one. I don't see Doug going anywhere anytime soon."
"Nah, I'm gonna keep that guy around, I guess. Which reminds me of why I called. Are you bringing anyone tonight? Do I need to add a plus one to your name at the door?"
Stede paused. "Oh, no. Just me. Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, goodness, no, it's okay Stede, I didn't mean... anything by it. You are more than enough, and we are both absolutely delighted to see you tonight - whether it's just you or an army of clown minions popping out of a tiny clown car. We're ready for it all!" Stede smiled to himself, half-amused. Mary always had a habit of rambling on about nonsense when she felt uncomfortable.
"No, it's fine, honestly."
"So..." Mary started, her voice newly gentle, careful. "In all seriousness. How are you doing these days, Stede? Like, really?"
"Oh, you know me. Just living the dream." Stede pursed his lips and cast his eyes down towards his duvet, which he was softly wringing with his hand.
"You know, Stede, you always say that. I just really, really hope one of these days when you do it will be genuine and not sarcastic."
"Yeah, maybe." A loaded beat of silence quickly spread across the line.
“Should I… worry about you?”
Stede sighed. “Only if you want to.” He meant it as a joke but realized it probably didn’t come across that way. Before Mary could continue her concerned line of questioning, he quickly interjected. "Well Mary, it was lovely chatting with you as always, but I really do need to get going soon. Start my morning and such.”
"Sure, Stede. Sounds good. We'll see you tonight."
"See you tonight." Stede pressed the red X, ending the call.
—————
Commuting to work was truly the best part of Stede’s day. These days he was living in the city center, which meant he could walk or take the subway to work instead of drive. This was a revelation after years spent fighting traffic for at least 2 hours every weekday. Moving out of his suburban home in the middle of nowhere to the urban core turned out to be a small silver lining in the maelstrom that was his divorce. He missed living with his kids terribly, but exactly nothing else.
A few blocks away from his apartment, Stede rounded the corner and stepped over the threshold into Le Cafard, his favorite neighborhood coffee shop. It was small, with only 6 cafe tables shoved snugly against the windows and rear wall. But it had charm to spare, which Stede relished. He loved the black and white honeycomb tile floor that began in a traditional pattern and then gradually devolved into randomized confetti as you approached the front counter. He loved the warm paneled wood walls that cast a cozy glow over everything. He loved the sumptuous red velvet drapes that swept dramatically over the tall windows. But most of all, he loved the people, who knew both his name and his order by heart.
“Stede! My man! Welcome back! How’s the lawyering game treating ya?” Roach, the owner and head pastry chef, had a smile that could light up a black hole.
“Can’t complain, I guess. I mean I could, but nobody wants to hear that.” Stede choked out a forced laugh. “Anyway, how are you Roach? How’s business?”
“Oh, not too shabby at all. Oluwande and Jim are getting back from their honeymoon on Thursday, so I’ll finally have my full crew back together again! It warms my little damn heart!” All the while he was speaking, Roach was idly tossing his bread knife into the air and barely catching it, which was making Stede extremely nervous.
“That’s great Roach. Say, I’m in a bit of a rush today, I’ll just take an orange cranberry muffin and black coffee to go. Please.”
“Ay, captain!” Roach ducked behind the display case to grab the pastry and milliseconds later Stede saw a hand pop up and press brew on the coffee machine. Always efficient, if not a little unhinged, that one, thought Stede with a smirk. He reminded himself to be present in this moment, because it was one of the last nice moments he would have this morning, and likely all day long. He breathed in the warm coffee aromas and thought about how wonderful it would be if smells could literally transport you somewhere else. Like if you just inhaled deeply enough, you would emerge in a charming trattoria in a small Italian town. The locals would welcome this dashing foreign traveler into their village, impressed by how he mastered the art and science of scent travel, and then a gorgeous and mysterious gentleman farmer would propose marriage on the spot.
“Hey, your order is ready man.” Stede’s attention shot back to Roach with a jolt.
“Oh! Sorry. Just daydreaming about… something. Thanks Roach, adieu to you!”
Stede stepped out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk slowly and haltingly, like he was a prisoner facing death row. Staring down the long boulevard ahead, he could see his office building looming in the distance, beckoning him, mocking him. Being a corporate lawyer had one benefit and one benefit only: the money was great. Sure. But literally everything else was a drawback: the stress, the greedy and corrupt clientele, the impossibly long hours, the monotony. As far as his job performance was concerned, he knew people considered him a mediocre attorney at best. But his father’s name was on the building, so his head was never going to be on the chopping block. Unfortunate, that, thought Stede.
—————
The workday proceeded as all others do: a whirlwind of paperwork mixed with endless meetings, phone conferences, constant small fires that needed attention, yet more paperwork, and yet more meetings. The only small daily respite Stede had to look forward to was wolfing down a quick lunch at his desk, which was delivered to him by his assistant Lucius. Stede liked Lucius a great deal. He had worked for him for years - hired directly out of college and came aboard as wide-eyed as a newborn fawn.
“Oh hi hello. Here is your daily nourishment boss. Let me know if you need anything else, cheers!” Lucius turned to the side and kicked his heel in the air playfully.
“Oh, thanks Lucius, but hey wait! Did you pick up my suit from the cleaners? The one I’m wearing to tonight’s exhibition thing?”
“Oh yes! It’s at my desk. I’m so glad you chose that one for this event - you do look so very dashing in peacock blue.” Lucius smirked and wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “You will have to beat the fellas away with a stick, I promise.”
“Oh Lucius, just stop.” Stede felt himself starting to blush. He enjoyed Lucius’ company, despite his disarming habit of flirting with absolutely everyone and everything that stood in his path. “This is not a speed dating thing. I’m just going to support Mary and Doug. And besides, this event is quite the hot ticket. Blackbeard is a big name in the art world, apparently.”
Lucius nodded sagely. “Oh yes, the man is as mysterious as he is talented. I hear he never lets anyone photograph him for articles or publicity purposes, so the only people who really know what he looks like are those he’s met in person. You will probably see him tonight, so I want a full report tomorrow! I have heard rumors that he is very cool, gorgeous, and maybe a little dangerous.” Lucius placed his hand on his chest dramatically.
Stede wrinkled his brow, skeptical. “Dangerous huh? How dangerous can an artist really be? What could he do, maim me with a paintbrush?”
Lucius scoffed. “Well okay then. Shall I order you a car at a quarter to 7:00?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll walk,” Stede said and pursed his lips anxiously. “I could use the fresh air, and to clear my head a little bit before having to face this thing.”
—————
By the time Stede left for the gallery, he was a nervous wreck. He had always struggled with social anxiety, likely triggered by painful memories of childhood bullying, if his therapist was to be believed. At this point in his life, Stede didn’t really know where it came from. All he knew was that his hands would shake at the thought of a crowd as big as the one he would face this evening. The only thing that propelled his legs forward was the thought of Mary and Doug, knowing they really wanted him there tonight. He would be touched if he currently had the ability to feel his extremities.
Stede gave his name to the lady with the clipboard outside, then cautiously walked through the door. The gallery really did look stunning. It was not the largest gallery in town - far from it - but it had dramatically high ceilings, gorgeous lighting, and felt warm and intimate in ways that a lot of high-end art spaces do not.
Stede spotted Mary and Doug on the far end of the gallery and made a beeline to meet them. They each embraced him warmly, and Stede was already glad he dared venture out of the confines of his office this evening.
Doug spoke closely to him with a warm hand on his shoulder. “Hey buddy, I hope you have fun this evening. Grab some wine and hors d’oeuvres - they are both really tasty! I knew Mary would pick the perfect catering company for opening night, and sure enough.”
Stede liked Doug from the moment he met him, even with the vague understanding that he was seducing his wife away from him. People in the art world have a reputation for being snooty and standoffish, but Doug was warm, openhearted and even kind of goofy. Mary once joked that she certainly has a type, although she made sure her next romantic pick actually liked girls this time.
Stede politely demurred on the offer of food and drink. He rocked back on his heels and scanned the gallery. “So, just curious - which one of these people is the infamous Blackbeard?”
Both Mary and Doug craned their necks, looking around. Mary shrugged, “Hmm. I don’t see him out there. He might not be here yet. Some artists like to make a dramatic entrance, and some are just aloof. Blackbeard - well no one is sure. This is his first exhibition, so we don’t have much to go on.”
Stede shrugged too. “Well, c’est la vie. Anyway, I will let you two get back to mingling. It’s your big night! I’m so happy for you both. You have worked so hard, and it shows in every inch of this amazing exhibition.” He hugged them again and then wandered back into the main gallery area, deciding he was going to try and understand what all this Blackbeard fuss was about.
Stede approached the painting that he had seen advertised - the one that was in all the newspapers, magazines, flyers, brochures, billboards and every other piece of media or vacant shop window in the city. It was everywhere, and Stede imagined all the collected images blanketing the entire metro area like fall leaves.
Physically, the piece was certainly impressive. It was huge and imposing - nearly two-stories in height, reaching almost to the level of the gallery's very tall ceilings. The painting exploded with chaotic brush strokes: blues crashing into reds crashing into yellows, all smeared together or slashed through. The effect was dizzying, disorienting. Stede tried to absorb it all at once, but his eye ended up just darting all over the place, trying to find a safe place to land. He glanced over at the title placard: Fuckery.
"Hmmm", Stede mused. All around him people were chattering excitedly.
"Oh, it's just divine! What an honor to see it in person, up close!"
"Can't you just see the vast inner turmoil, rendered exquisitely in stark primary colors?"
"The expressiveness of the lines! Where the color is and where it isn't!"
"This must be a commentary on the futility of war and the strife of the human spirit!"
Shit, Stede thought, confused. You got all that from this? He took a few steps back and stared more intensely, tucking his fist under his chin and crossing one arm like he had seen people in movies do when they were deeply pondering works of art. He immediately felt like an idiot. A thick, increasingly aggressive crowd was starting to form around the painting, and he took it as a sign to step away and wander around the gallery.
Blackbeard's work was certainly interesting, although Stede wasn't sure he understood it at all. He traveled across the gallery walls slowly, taking in all the large-scale, bombastically rendered images before him. All abstract, colorful, and frenetic. And there were a lot of them. Blackbeard must be very prolific, thought Stede, mindlessly. Good for him.
Stede eventually reached the back of the gallery, and in the corner was a smaller piece. He felt a quiet descend as he approached it. Although swarms of people were crowding around all the other pieces, here Stede found himself completely alone. He glanced at the painting's title: Queen Anne.
This painting was different in tone and composition than the others. It looked like it was from an entirely different artist’s collection even though the placard assured him that it was indeed Blackbeard’s. The painting depicted an evening storm roiling layer upon layer of violet-hued ocean waves. In the foreground was a slightly abstracted wooden ship. On first glance, the ship looked formidable: masts rendered sturdy and proud, its sharp bow cutting an easy path across the angry sea. But the more Stede looked at the image, the clearer it became: the ship was completely at the mercy of the waves. From the rear, the water bucked up violently, threatening to completely engulf the ship and carry it under like it was nothing. There was no one and nothing around that could save it. It was doomed.
Stede stared wide-eyed at the painting and felt a stirring in his chest. He started to breathe heavily, and a sizable lump formed in his throat. He couldn't articulate exactly why he was having this reaction. He was almost in tears when he felt two firm slaps on his back and the sound of a familiar, most unwelcome set of voices.
—————
“Stede Fucking Bonnet,” The cursed voices said in unison.
Stede turned around and was confronted by what he had feared the most. There stood the Badminton twins, dressed as if they had just emerged from an 80's movie about Wall Street sociopaths, smirking. Stede grimaced.
“Chauncey. Nigel. You’re both… here.”
Nigel threw his head back and let out a rancid laugh. “Well of course, Baby Bonnet. This is the event of the season! Why wouldn’t we be here?”
“The question is why are you here?” Chauncey asked and crossed his arms. The overhead spotlight cast a glow on his shiny bald head, less like a halo and more like a warning light. “I hope they hired more janitorial staff to be on-call for clean-up, just in case you have another one of your accidents.”
A chill went down Stede’s spine. His mind shot back to that one fateful morning at summer camp when all three of them were just children. Stede was a shy, sensitive kid, and had been extremely sheltered by his parents throughout his young life. His first night away at camp, he was so nervous that his bunk mate told all the other campers that his trembling was making their beds vibrate. The next morning, to Stede’s horror, he discovered that he had wet the bed, which he had not done since he was barely out of diapers.
“Very funny,” Stede countered, meekly. “You know, it happened once, and I was nine years old at the time. I do have all that under control now.”
Nigel raised his eyebrows and shot Chauncey an amused grin, as his long blonde ponytail whipped against his shoulder. “Well, that’s certainly good to hear Baby Bonnet! I mean, I can’t imagine your clients would love their lawyer making puddles in the courtroom during cross-examination. Remind me, Chauncey, never to hire Bonnet & Bonnet if our company needs legal representation. I certainly wouldn’t pay good money for that.”
Stede could feel his heart start to beat faster and faster in his chest. He was overcome by an urge to sprint full speed down the gallery corridor, away from the literal manifestations of nearly all his childhood traumas. He knew he had to escape before he lost total control of his breathing.
“Well, it was really… great seeing you two again, but I have to go and assist Mary and Doug with the event now. They need my help with… the hors d’oeuvres... so.”
Chauncey scrunched his nose, “Oh yes, Mary and Doug. Your ex-wife and her new lover. There was some overlap there, no? Say Bonnet, what’s it like being so publicly cuckolded like that? Pretty humiliating, I’d imagine. Or maybe you liked it?” Nigel guffawed loudly, and Stede realized their conversation was beginning to draw attention from the other event goers. He could feel his panic rising, his vision starting to blur.
“Yep, okay. Well take care then.” Stede turned around and spotted a door across the gallery that he knew led to an interior hallway. He walked towards it purposefully. He didn’t want to see any more of the Badminton twins’ smug faces staring at him, delighting in the knowledge that they could still get so deeply and thoroughly under his skin.
Once safely behind the door, Stede stopped for a moment to try and catch his breath, but realized his panic was getting on top of him. Desperate, he knew he needed to get as far away from the exhibition as possible. He walked quickly to the end of the hallway and saw a stairwell with a sign indicating that it led to a roof access door. He started to climb the stairs.
—————
Stede burst through the door and staggered towards the edge of the parapet wall at the far end of the roof. He was gasping, frantically tugging his tie loose to will more air into his lungs. Once he reached the parapet, he crouched down into a fetal form and tucked his head into his knees, trying to remember all the things his therapist told him to do in this situation. He had just begun to try and locate five things he could touch when he heard a low voice calling from the other side of the roof deck.
“Hey mate, hey. Are you okay?”
Stede was startled. Oh, good lord, no, he thought. Please, please leave and let me deal with this alone. This is humiliating enough. Without turning his head, Stede gathered all his remaining wherewithal and responded, “Ye-yeah just fine! Just needed a breather!”
He could hear the man’s footsteps jogging toward him. Stede turned around just as the man approached his corner of the roof. He looked up and was stunned by the striking figure that appeared before him. The man was tall, toned but slightly lanky, wearing leather pants and a skintight purple shirt that was cropped at the waist. A series of serpentine tattoos traveled up the length of his arms, and his face was framed by a lion’s mane of long wavy grey hair. His well-groomed salt and pepper beard was almost enough to distract from two of the largest, softest brown eyes Stede had ever seen. Almost.
Stede felt frozen in place. His heart raced faster than he assumed was medically advisable, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the panic attack or the dreamy apparition standing in front of him. Perhaps both.
The man crouched down to meet Stede’s eye line. “Hey mate, whoa, it’s alright. You’re okay. Breathe.”
Stede buried his face back into his knees, trying to control his air intake and struggling to maintain his already tenuous composure.
The man shuffled in towards Stede slightly. “Hey, do you mind if I touch you? Just your back. I know a trick.”
Stede nodded wordlessly, keeping his head firmly positioned towards the ground. The man then lifted his arm and started rubbing Stede’s back in soft circular motions with his palm, the pressure becoming a bit harder and then soft again, repeating in irregular intervals. While he was rubbing, the man started to hum a soft melody that Stede could not place. It sounded like a sea shanty or maybe an old folk song. Whatever it was, it was hauntingly beautiful and Stede’s mind started to drift. After a few minutes, Stede could feel his heart begin to slow and his breathing come back into his control.
“There you go, mate,” the man said softly. “I think you’re gonna be alright.”
Stede slowly lifted his head and looked at the man who was now looking back at him intensely, his eyes filled with concern. Stede winced and glanced back down at his shoes.
“Oh good lord. Please excuse me. I haven’t had one of these… episodes in a very long time. I don’t know what came over me. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Nah mate, don’t be. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I used to get them all the time as a kid. My mum would calm me down every time with the backrub trick. It helped if she sang a song too, but I can’t carry a damn tune, so hopefully the humming worked in a pinch.”
Stede looked up at the man and gave a half-smile. Although he was still preoccupied with recovering his breath and the last shards of his dignity, Stede couldn’t help but be moved by this oddly beautiful man’s kindness and the warmth in his voice. The longer he spoke, the less Stede felt like he was drowning.
“Yeah,” Stede responded. “I mean, yeah that did the trick. Amazing well, actually. Where were you the night before my first bar exam?”
The man smiled and stood up. He reached out his hand and Stede tentatively took it and was gently pulled to standing. “Hey, you sort of made a joke. Well, that’s a good sign. Although I didn’t realize you were a lawyer. I must come clean, I’m actually not a licensed medical professional, so please don’t sue me if my treatments go sideways.” The man laughed softly and Stede couldn’t believe how much calmer he felt now compared to five minutes ago.
“No, I’m not going to sue you. Unless, of course, you tell anyone about my little breakdown. Then all bets are off.”
“Who would I tell? I don’t even know your name. You’re just blonde-blue-suit-lawyer-guy to me. There are quite a few chaps in this city fitting that description, I reckon.” Ed’s eyes twinkled and Stede thought he picked up a hint of flirtation in his voice. He blamed this unlikely thought on his recent oxygen deprivation.
“Yeah, maybe so. Well, at the risk of you ruining my already shaky reputation,” Stede held out his hand, “my name is Stede.”
“Ah, Stede. Nice to meet you. Cool name. I’m Ed. Less cool name I guess.” Ed grabbed Stede’s hand with both of his and shook it gently but thoroughly. Stede thanked the gods that he could blame any hand sweatiness on the recent panic attack and not the bolt of electricity that shot through his veins upon contact with Ed’s skin.
“Nice to meet you too, Ed. And seriously, thank you for coming over to help me, with all of it, really. You’re too kind.” Stede kicked the backside of the parapet wall shyly. “But I do feel compelled to ask, do you just hang out here on the roof all day waiting to swoop in and save any damsels or middle-aged men in distress?”
“Ah ha, nah. Actually, I’m kinda hiding out at the moment. There’s a thing going on downstairs that I’d rather not go to. So, I’m just stalling until the last possible second, as long as humanly fucking possible”. Ed pulled out a cigarette and tucked it behind his ear.
“Oh you mean the Blackbeard exhibition? Yeah, I’m kind of required to be there too. Well not required but expected. Honestly, I’d rather be at home with a book right now, or maybe walking around 10th Street Park. It is October so the foliage is insane right now”.
Ed smiled warmly and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could really use more walks in the park every now and again. They certainly sound like more fun than this bloody work obligation.”
“Work obligation? Do you work for Blackbeard?”
Ed turned to look Stede dead in the eyes, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across his face. “I am Blackbeard.”
Stede stared back, incredulous. “Wait. What, really? I thought your name was Ed?”
“You think Blackbeard is my government name? Seriously mate?”
“Well, I dunno. I mean, I knew this girl in college who went down to Mexico and took a lot of ayahuasca and then legally changed her name to SerenityMoonWolf. So, I figure anything is possible”.
Ed laughed heartily and clapped his hands together. “Nah. Blackbeard was just the name I started using back in my tagging days. You can’t exactly sign your real name to the side of some bloke’s building if you’re keen to stay out of jail and such.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Stede chuckled. “So, you really don’t want to attend your own exhibition? I’ve been down there, and I can assure you these people are practically tripping over themselves to fella… - um, meet you.”
“Were you...” Ed raised an eyebrow. “…just about to say ‘fellate me’?”
Stede’s entire body turned a deep crimson red. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Ha. It just kinda… popped out.”
“No, no.” Ed looked positively tickled. “It’s hilarious. I just didn’t expect that kind of language from such an upstanding, buttoned-up chap as yourself.”
“Oh, well. I’m really not that buttoned up. I mean, I’m trying to be less so anyways. It hasn’t exactly served me well so far in life. Perhaps I’m long overdue for an, um, unbuttoning.” Stede suddenly wished the earth would rise and swallow him whole.
Ed appeared to politely let Stede’s unintentional innuendo evaporate into the evening air, which Stede was endlessly grateful for. Instead, Ed turned forward and gazed thoughtfully at the glittering skyline beyond. From the rooftop, they had a panoramic view of practically the entire city at once. The sun was just beginning to set, and it cast fiery hues over the city landscape in front of them. To Stede, the light made Ed looked like he was lit from within. Spectacular.
After a pause, Ed let out a long sigh. “I do know what you mean. I think I’m starting to reassess my entire life as well.”
“Really, you? I mean, you’re the famous Blackbeard! The whole art world is celebrating your work, and word on the street is that you’re this cool, mysterious genius. What could be better than that?”
Ed’s face went sour. “That’s just the thing! I don’t even have to try anymore. I used to create art because it was fun, or I felt some deep ache, or I just couldn’t sleep until I brought something festering inside me screaming into the world”. Ed threw up his hands in frustration. “When I started, I was poor and hungry and tired all the time, but I felt alive, you know? My work felt alive because it was me, rendered in paint. Now, I can slap any stupid bullshit onto a canvas, and these snobby art wankers will eat it up with a spoon just because it has a famous name at the bottom. It’s just all so fucking boring.”
Stede went quiet for a moment, considering this. “Well, when you put it that way, that does sound kind of… empty.”
“Yeah, really fucking empty.” Ed sighed and lit up the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear.
Stede narrowed his eyes at Ed. “Well hold on. I’m curious now: how many of the paintings in the exhibition this evening are just ‘stupid bullshit on a canvas’?”
“Oh, there definitely are some. Not all, but some. You’ve seen the show. Go on, take a guess.”
Stede stepped back from the parapet and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Oh no, I don’t think I want to do that. Besides, I’m really not much of an art expert – I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t really know what makes art good or bad.”
“It’s good if it makes you feel something. Please Stede, I insist. This will be how you repay me for saving you from jumping off the roof tonight.”
“I wasn’t going to jump.” Stede laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, but if I accidentally insult you, you only have yourself to blame and you can’t get mad at me. Deal?”
“Yes, deal!” Ed was practically giddy with anticipation.
Stede sighed. “Okay. Well, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t really… understand Fuckery. I mean, it’s very striking - don’t get me wrong. But after a while it kind of made my eyes go cross. And I guess I didn’t feel much of anything looking at it. Maybe a little dizzy.” Stede stared straight ahead, afraid to see on Ed’s face the damage his words had caused. When he finally looked back, Ed was practically beaming at him.
“Well now, Stede. It appears you are more of an art expert than the snooty hoards down there in the gallery”, Ed laughed. “Fuckery was some nonsense that I slapped together in a day while I was trying to ride out a wicked hangover. It blows my mind that they are using it as the centerpiece of this thing.”
Stede was flabbergasted. "So, you really felt nothing when you painted that?"
"Well, let’s see. I think halfway through I really needed to take a piss, so maybe that comes through in some of the brushstrokes? The yellow ones?"
Stede cackled. Ed was funny, which surprised him a bit. His easy charm and warmth seemed to contrast with all the badass tattoos and hard-edged leather attire that he wrapped himself in like armor. This thought instantly made Stede feel small. He hated the part of himself who might dismiss a guy like Ed so easily for such superficial reasons.
"Well,” Stede offered, “maybe that's where the art is - of your piece I mean. The deception and revealing how easy it is to get people to buy into any stupid bullshit for its own sake".
Ed raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Exactly. Fuckery. Smoke and mirrors. Sound and fury...."
"...signifying nothing". Stede was delighted. He certainly didn't expect Ed to quote Shakespeare. "I get it. That's diabolical."
"It is. I am going to take pictures of everyone's reactions and then my next exhibition is going to be just a giant collage of their slack jawed faces, trying so hard to look "cultured" in front of the other elitist art knobs". Ed rolled his eyes and took a bitter drag of his cigarette. Stede knit his brow.
"Well, I will be one of those faces I'm afraid. I didn't know what to do with myself down there, so I tried to play the part of ‘serious art aficionado’, slack-jaw and all. I did manage to fail spectacularly though, if that makes me any less, er, knob-by."
"Well fuck, you bring up a good point, Stede. I think this whole world of so-called high art has made me cynical. Maybe I need to see things from another perspective, not be so quick to judge people like you. No offense."
"None taken." Stede's shoulders relaxed, relieved at the confirmation that he was not the only judgmental fool standing atop a roof this evening. They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching a helicopter buzz by low overhead and letting the conversation settle around them comfortably. Ed crossed his arms, stepped back and kicked a bit of tar that had dislodged from the surface of the roof. "Say, not to be, er, insecure I guess? But I'm curious. Was there any work of mine down there that maybe did speak to you? Even a little?"
Stede smiled. Never in a million years did he think the famous Blackbeard would care so much about his opinion that he would become visibly nervous. He was suddenly overcome with a desire to touch Ed’s shoulder affectionately but tamped down the impulse. "Yes, in fact there was one piece that moved me greatly. Moved me to tears even."
"Fuck off." Ed narrowed his eyes. "You don't need to say that shit to spare my feelings."
"I'm not! I would never. I'm not a great liar, believe me. The only person I ever seem to deceive is myself, and only for so long at that". Stede walked closer to the edge of the parapet, and Ed followed, closing in the already narrow gap between them. "I really loved Queen Anne."
Ed's eyes went wide, and he let out a soft gasp. "Really?"
"Yes. I was quite taken by it, at first a little confused by the title because it seemed ill-fitting of what appears to be a seascape. Not a single old dead queen to be found in there." Stede smiled wryly at Ed, then let his attention drift slowly back to the horizon ahead. He took a long pause, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "But then, the more I looked at it, the more unsettled I became. It was like the painting was speaking directly to me, turning over all of the dark stuff I have been wrestling with in my mind for a long time."
Stede nervously wove his fingers together and apart. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. "Looking at it, I felt so many things that I don't normally allow myself to feel. Vulnerable. Adrift. Overwhelmed. Most of all lonely, yes. Really lonely, I suppose."
He opened his eyes and slowly looked back at Ed, who appeared stricken.
"Oh Ed, I'm so sorry! I've probably mangled the meaning of your beautiful work of art, imposing my own sad sack issues onto it. Forgive me."
"No, no!" Ed contested quickly. He pursed his lips, looking like he was trying not to break down. He crossed his arms tightly as he took a few steps back from the edge of the roof. "You. That's. That's exactly it. Fucking all of it. Queen Anne is me. On a canvas. Rendered in paint."
Stede's face went white. He didn't know what to do or say, or what he should be doing with his hands. He was deeply moved by what Ed had shared, but still felt uneasy about offering a comforting touch in return, despite the vivid memory of Ed’s own comforting hands on his back only minutes ago. Stede rushed to fill the expanding silence with words, any words. "You, well. I guess just know that there is at least one person down there who um, understands. Understands completely. You, or er, it." Stede sighed, embarrassed. "I just. I just really loved it."
"Thank you, Stede." Ed replied softly.
A few loaded moments passed between the two men under the darkening sky. Stede silently wished they were standing in the countryside so he and Ed could gaze at the stars and not just the blinking landing lights of overhead 747's. He wondered if Ed also thought this was all slightly romantic in a strange way, then quickly admonished himself for having such absurd, unlikely thoughts.
Suddenly, Ed shook his head, gave himself two hard slaps on the cheek, stubbed out his cigarette and twisted his face into a big, exaggerated smile. "Welp! It seems like you are back on your feet again, mate. I should probably go down there and make an appearance. God help me not murder anyone in a tuxedo tonight!"
Stede laughed, trying not to let on how much his heart sank at the idea of Ed leaving him alone on the roof. "Yeah. Ok then, Ed. It was really nice to meet you. Thanks again for… being there. For me."
"The pleasure, sir, was all mine”. Ed bent over and gave a theatrical bow. “See you around, Stede."
Ed turned on his heels and walked towards the roof door. Before his hand could hit the doorknob, Ed paused for a beat and turned around. He walked swiftly back towards Stede and then suddenly enveloped him in a firm, all-encompassing hug. Stede was so shocked, all he could do was stand there, feeling Ed’s hand on his back and his fingers softly grasping onto his mop of blonde hair. After a few moments, Ed released Stede's stiff body from his arms, gave him a quick wink, walked back towards the door and disappeared into the night.