Page 113 of Possibly Texas

Levi Lee was outside of Starbuck’s when I got to work, dry as a bone, thanks to the temperate day the storm had delivered to us. He was in ballet tights, a t-shirt, and sneakers, performing ballet. Poorly. Just like his green-screen suit, the tights proved to be overly obscene on Levi Lee.

It was a complete shock when I realized that maybe I should—and possibly wanted to—enjoy the view instead of worrying about whether or not it was obscene. No one else in Possibly gave a damn that Levi Lee made such a display of…himself…so who was I to be offended for them? And…I found that I did enjoy the view. Though, I wasn’t sure I wanted to figure out everything that meant.

But, just like Possibly, I didn’t have to understand it. I could just enjoy it.

So, I did.

“What do you think?” Levi Lee asked, half out of breath as he came to a stop mid-spin as I approached Starbuck’s. “Ballet? Maybe it’s my art?”

I chuckled. “You know what?”

“What?” He beamed at me.

“Who’s going to stop you, man?”

He thought about this for a minute, then his grin widened.

“Yeah!” He thrust a fist in the air. “Who’s going to stop me?”

Levi Lee reached up to push a tangle of golden curls off of his forehead, and though I wasn’t concerned about enjoying his display, I made sure to keep my eyes on his face. There is a thin line between appreciation and creepiness.

“Hey,” he asked, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I said, stopping short of reaching for the door handle of the coffee shop. “Ask away.”

“Do you think I’m any good at performance art?” he asked. “Honestly? Maybe it’s not my thing, you know? I’m a great handyman, but maybe I’m just not meant for art? What do you think? You’re pretty honest.”

I smiled at him, unsure exactly how to word what I wanted to say. Finally, I realized exactly what needed to be said.

“Do you want to do art?” I asked.

“Well…yeah,” he said with a goofy grin as though it was the oddest question ever. “It’s what we do here.”

“Are you doing art you enjoy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re creating art. You’re living your life on your terms. That’s art.”

Levi Lee stared at me for the longest of moments, his smiling growing exponentially on his face.

“Life is art,” he said, finally.

“It is,” I said. “I think I’m finally getting that through my thick skull.”

He laughed and I joined in as I reached for the door handle.

“Hey,” he said.

“Yeah?” I asked, my fingers wrapping around the steel bar.

“Weird question…”

“Surely not in Possibly,” I said. “Everything’s so normal here.”

Levi Lee chuckled. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

“Come on inside,” I shrugged. “I definitely need a pick-me-up. And I’m sure Starbuck won’t care.”