The Artist and the Actor – 10

 

 

Colin was part way up the winding road before he realized where he was. Ahead of him was Lookout Mountain Park and Buffalo Bill's grave. If he kept going, he'd pass the place where Kenny's body had been found.

 

Would that be so bad? He decided it wouldn't be. Even living as close as he did to where it had happened, fifteen miles or so, Colin had only gone up there a few times when he'd returned to Denver after graduation. Then, he'd stopped. It hurt, knowing Kenny had died alone, his body left for some stranger to find.

 

In spite of that, he had decided to remain in the city, found an apartment, and then taken his portfolio around to some of the local galleries. He had found one that was willing to let him be a part of a 'New Artists' exhibition. From there, he'd begun making a name for himself, to the point that Thomas at Michaelson Art Gallery had courted him, bringing him into the fold when Colin had accepted his offer to be one of the gallery's on-going artists. Then Shane had come into his life. Between him, and Colin's concentration on his art, Kenny had become a sad, painful memory. A brother he had loved and lost.

 

Their parents had taken it a step further, selling their house and moving halfway across the country. Colin didn't blame them. Their memories had to be even more painful than his, leaving an empty spot in their lives and hearts which had belonged to their older son.

 

As he neared the pull-off, Colin slowed almost to a crawl, evoking an angry honk from the car behind him. Resisting the urge to flip the driver off, he eased onto the verge at the side of the road and parked. Getting out of the car, he walked to the spot that he knew was where Kenny's car had been found. Of course there was nothing to show what had happened. He hadn't expected there would be.

 

"I miss you," he said softly. "I always will. I hope, wherever you are, you're at peace."

 

He looked up at the mountains towering in the distance. Their majesty calmed and awed him at the same time. Being who he was, he returned to the car to get a sketch pad and pencils from his bag. Sitting on the hood, he drew what he saw around him, the trees and underbrush, the rocky slopes, even a chipmunk that seemed to pose for him, which made him smile as he dashed off a sketch.

 

Eventually, the shadows of the trees that the sun cast across the road let him know it well past noon. When his stomach growled, too, he decided to leave and head west to Genesee Park and a pizza place where he knew he could happily sate his hunger before returning home.