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Wednesday Posting_A Time From Now_38

STORY TITLE: A Time From Now
    CHAPTER TITLE: The Preston Jahns Gallery _Thirty-Eight_of One Hundred
RATING: this chapter: PG
WORD COUNT: this chapter: 600
WARNINGS: this chapter: none, Lindsay POV
DISCLAIMER: Nothing I can say that hasn’t been said already? Not mine.
    Originally Beta’ed by herefordroad, all subsequent mistakes are mine
    Story throughout contains excerpts from The Brian Kinney Operating Manual including commentary from the Editors
SUMMARY FROM THE EDITORS: ‘Of course, it’d helped that Preston knew Sydney Bloom, that introduction certainly worked to my favor…’
    Lindsay finds where she was supposed to have been all along
AUTHOR‘S NOTES: This story projects 59 years into the future and reflects all that that entails, many of the loose ends are tied-up. I dance with POV, I dance with time, in essence, I just dance to the song Brian & Justin sang to me.
    Contains: Brian_others, Justin_others. They grow old, they are always together for just as long as time allows, but, ultimately, they will die.
    As someone wise once said, ‘In the end, it’s all about Brian and Justin’ and I can only agree

A Time From Now

The Preston Jahns Gallery
One Week Later - Six Months - Toronto

I’d come so close…so close to missing this and how different things would have been if I had. Just one small ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the corner of the large plate glass window filled with art I, honestly, hadn‘t been too interested in. So easily overlooked, but I hadn‘t. Instead, I’d applied and had been hired on the spot. Of course, it’d helped that Preston knew Sydney Bloom, that introduction clearly worked to my favor and now, I could truthfully say I’d never been happier. Melanie was able to stay home with JR and Gus, allowing her the time she needed to figure out what she wanted to do. To have rashly jumped back into law would have been unwise. Maybe she’d try something completely different. Finding out what, that was now her challenge.

Mine was to bring this somewhat staid art gallery into the 21st Century without too many growing pains. I’d been introducing my ideas slowly and Preston had been responsive…cautiously responsive, but more and more so each day. I could already see that I was leaving my mark on this little corner of the Toronto art world. In the 2 ½ months I’d been here I’d already envisioned what my role would be in its future. The part I was to play.

Preston Jahns had been doing this, as he tactfully put it, since I’d been in middle school and now, at sixty, I think he was starting to look ahead, starting to realize that maybe there were other ways he could live out his days. I also think if it wasn’t for Andrew, Preston would have worked here until he no longer could, but his partner of 35 years was dying and that fact had reshaped Preston’s priorities, had changed the way he viewed the time ahead. Andrew could have years…or not so Preston was changing his primary concern from business to Andrew, which was only right.

When I’d started here, he’d been the first one in every morning and was always the last one to leave at night. Not anymore. Now he trusted me, had come to depend on me, knew he could. He knew that I wouldn’t disappointment him. Now he had more time to help Andrew begin his day, he was there for him every night. In such a short period of time I’d come to care so much for this man and his partner. We’d become family and anything…anything I could do to give them more time with each other I would. That was a part of the role I was to play here, the part maybe more easily accomplished. The rest, the art and the artists, would take longer to bring about; perhaps even a lifetime and fortunately, I had that kind of time.

Lindsay turned out the last of the lights, moving with purpose through the now darkened spaces and, checking each room, she made mental notes of the tasks she wanted to accomplish the following day. Finally leaving the day behind, she passed from the enclosed space of one world to the open space of another, the nighttime world that waited for her just on the other side of the glass and metal gallery door. With it safely locked behind her, she pulled her coat collar tightly under her chin, shivering a little against the chill and crossing the street, she began her evening walk home where her wife and their children would be waiting for her, with, thankfully, only dinner and storytime to occupy her concerns.

Next Chapter: Justin on the road to becoming a big-time artist

for original post & additional chapters, please see here


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