Chapter 8
Calvin
We pulled into a parking spot in the shopping area of town. It was a risk, bringing Amanda here, but I’d already bared some of my soul to her by telling her about Dad. I might as well put it all out there.
What was it about being in another hemisphere that made me feel like I was living a different life, one where I could slash myself open for a woman to see and examine?
Maybe, it wasn’t the location but the woman herself.
“Do you like thrift shops?” I shut off the rental car in front of a large shop called All in the Attic. “They don’t creep you out, do they?”
Amanda laughed. “Are you kidding? Thrifting is the ultimate weekend pastime.”
“I’d agree, except that I’d be lying.”
“Right. Hockey.” She heaved a sigh that said I tolerate you. Barely.
I’d be wearing a Viking hat to all the home matches unless Parley came to be fully convinced that Amanda and I were in a serious relationship. So far I estimated we were only about fifty percent there. “But when I’m not watching hockey, I do love a good trip to Second Handers.”
“No way. That’s the best shop in Reedsville! Even better than Cheap But Classy.” Amanda drew a cute little circle in the air. “They have the wackiest things somehow. Especially their art.”
“Right?” Now she had me buzzing in a way that wasn’t just the physical connection I usually got with women. “Art in thrift stores is the best.”
Her voice lowered as we entered the store. “And the worst.”
Now my heart clanged like a bell at a prize fight. Did she—could she—be talking about what I thought she might be talking about? The secret, underground community of thrift-store prowlers who sniffed out the ugliest paintings and artworks and then posted the photographic evidence in the chat group online for each other’s entertainment? I’d never told anyone my thrift-art screen-name, and I’d never dream of doing so. My fandom there was my deepest contemporary secret.
“Ooh, look at this one.” Amanda left my side like a shot. “It’s glorious.” She lifted a framed oil painting from the display rack.
“How did you even spot that?” It had been buried behind old knitting magazines. “Whoa.” I recoiled deliciously. “That is something memorable.” The painting featured two of the ugliest-faced creatures ever painted, a human and his pet snake. “The red eyes are unique.”
“Yeah, but I would’ve saved red paint for the reptile’s eyes instead of the snout-nosed kid’s.” Her nose wrinkled and she pushed up the tip. “Can you see the resemblance between me and my long-lost demon cousin?”
No other woman I’d dated had ever once pushed her nose into pig nose.
It was marvelous. Something old and protective crumbled inside me, leaving a gaping opening. The size for Amanda to walk through, if she wanted to.
“Just a second.” I held up a hand to stop her from putting it back on the rack. “I need a photo of it for my collection.”
Her hand shot out and rested on my forearm. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop—you have a collection? Of …?”
Moment of truth. Should I tell her? This is New Zealand. Tell the woman your nerd secret. “I have a collection of photos of terrible art from thrift shops.” Art I posted in specialty groups online.
Her face a stone, Amanda took a backward step away from me. She bumped into a shelf full of stuffed animals and used plastic dishes. “I don’t believe you.”
I was already this far in. “Believe it.” I swatted at my phone. “Check them out and weep for joy that you didn’t paint any of them.” I angled the screen for her to see.
Gingerly, she stepped toward me. Which was weird, considering. But soon, she was glued to my side, gaping at my exquisite finds.
“Three years’ work.” I swiped through photo after photo in my Bad Art folder. “Here’s my favorite.” I tapped on the rhinoceros in the Minnie Mouse costume. “For obvious reasons.”
“Doesn’t this dishonor your Rhino fandom?” She was chortling at every one—and selecting all my best ones to comment on. “What’s this one, a skateboard? Or is it a fruit basket still-life?” She snort-laughed.
I loved her for it.