by C.T. Millis
Chapter 16
“He’s in the tree house again,” Danielle said as she peered from Mr. Heckerman’s back kitchen window and across the yard.
“He’s been painting. He said he was going to pick up some paint today.” Mr. Heckerman was rolling dough on the counter to make an apple pie.
“That should be good for him.”
“It won’t make it better. It won’t bring him back.”
“James’ father?”
“Who else would I be talking about?” They both grew silent. Danielle let the curtains fall back and throw their shade into the kitchen. She sat down at his kitchen table and started sipping at the cup of tea she made for herself when she got there. It was cold already. She took a sip.
“I read in the paper today that they’re going to build two story mall across town. They’ll have a few department stores, gift shops, even a pet store.”
“I don’t need any of that.”
“They aren’t building it for you.” she trailed off “not everything is about you.” He did not respond. “What do you need, anyway?” He did not answer her. “Do you need me?”
“Don’t get hurt.” He said, and began scooping the cut up apples into the pie crust.She was trying to ignore him now. She walked to the sink and dumped out the rest of her tea. When she passed him, she was close enough to make him feel like she did not even see him.
“The painting is good for him.” Mr. Heckerman conceded, “It might not bring his father back, but he’s good at it- and it makes him happy.” He used his thumbs to seal the edge of the pie, “He’s got a talent for it.” Mr. Heckerman cut holes in the top of the pie with a knife. Danielle wiped off her hands with a towel that was laying on the counter and walked behind Mr. Heckerman. She walked behind him and put one arm around his stomach and let the other one snake up the middle of his chest. As she held him, she let her forehead rest on the top of his back and she took a deep breath.
“Did you preheat the oven?”
“Shoot!” She let go, and they both laughed.
“It’s okay, I’ll get it.” as she set the temperature, he looked at her and thought about hurt. He would not hurt her. People can get hurt without letting anyone hurt them. That is what happened to his son, and what happened to him. He did not want to care about her the way he cared about his wife before she died, but she could hurt him anyway. He could not find a point in caring for anyone anymore, not after what happened.
Later, the sun was fighting its way through his bedroom window’s curtains. His room had blue walls, a blue rug, blue sheets, and blue curtains. Most of the room was dark, but a streak of bright golden light ran across Danielle’s bare back. She was sleeping, and each breath would cause the light to move slightly up and down her spine. He reached out to touch it-
“Mmm, hey there.” she said into the pillow. She curled up closer to him.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked. Her back tensed, she turned her head and looked at him.
“I’m thinking that I want to be with you.”
“We’re together right now.”
“No, I want to be with you.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“Don’t get hurt.”
“You say that a lot.”
“That’s because I mean it.”
“You don’t have to hurt me, so you won’t hurt me.”
“Sometimes people get hurt even when nobody is trying to hurt them.” He pulled his hands away from her. “Sometimes people get hurt by the people who are trying to protect them.”
“It’s so s-s-simple.” She looked away. “It’s so simple, it isn’t hard. It’s easy.” Her voice was cracking.
“You sound like you’re going to cry.”
“I’m not.” She wiped her eyes and did not look at him. “I care about you.”
“I care about you.” He put his hand on her back again. “I care about you a lot.”
“We have to figure this out.” She told him. “I need to know what we are.”
“Those are just labels.”
“I need words to tell me who I am.” She turned on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “To you.” Her words were met with his silence. The two melded together like a gentle echo that lingered in the dark air above them. The beam of light was over her heart at that point.
“Would you like another piece of pie?” was all he asked. She took a heavy breath.
“Yes,” She started to put her clothes on, “that sounds nice, some coffee, too.” Danielle did not really want any pie. She knew that his offer of something was an offer to end the conversation they were having in a way that would not cause her to leave and never see him again. He would have returned to the man across the street who looked sadly into the empty belly of his mailbox each day, the memories of him would darken and dust in her mind. She would miss him. So, she said yes to pie, even though her stomach was still unsettled and her heart beat the blood too fast through her body out of nervousness to enjoy any of it. Even though she wanted him, not just a day at a time, the whole of him, she would have the smallest piece she could have, and drink the coffee while holding his hand. Yes, that is what she would do.