Picturing Different

by Nikki Kwiatkowski

  Ashlyn cringed. “I’m sorry. I know we never talked about that. It just slipped out. I don’t expect–”

  Tripp interrupted her by grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. “Ash, will you be my girlfriend?”

  For a moment, Ashlyn forgot all about Eric and what might happen if she should start seeing someone new.

  With a smile plastered to her face, “Absolutely.”

  Tripp squeezed her hand once more. He bit at his bottom lip and shook his head, letting out a deep breath. “This sucks.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you now,” he softly chuckled.

  Little butterflies exploded in a frenzy within Ashlyn. They were in a crowded classroom, not the best time or place for those thoughts.

  Ashlyn looked around to see everyone beginning to follow Mrs. Cohen’s rapid notes on the whiteboard. Her back was facing the class as she began to ramble about something that Ashlyn couldn’t focus on.

  They were in the back of the class, and though it was risky, Ashlyn was too elated to care. Adrenaline rushed through her. She didn’t allow herself to contemplate any further.

  Tripp froze for a moment when Ashlyn pulled him toward her. Before he could process that her lips were on his in the middle of science class, they were gone.

  “Seriously,” he breathed.

  Ashlyn glanced up to see the dangerous look in his eyes.

  “You could have warned me. I wasn’t ready,” he teased.

  “If I would have told you, we’d probably be on our way to Willis’ office by now.”

  Tripp smiled and ran his hand down her arm, watching as little goosebumps appeared from his touch. “You’re right, because that wasn’t nearly the kiss that I had in mind.”

  “We’re behind on the notes,” Ashlyn scolded.

  Tripp shrugged. “It was worth it.”

  Chapter 32

  Lunch and science class had cemented a lot for Ashlyn. For starters, she needed Eric’s stuff gone, immediately. Therefore, after dropping her paintings and prints off at the school that evening, she had a detour to make before going home.

  “Ash,” Eric’s mother gasped when she opened the door. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” she said as she took a step out and embraced Ashlyn.

  Even though it felt strange hugging her ex-boyfriend’s mother, she went along with it. Eric’s mother had plenty of problems since her washed-up rock star husband left their family for a woman half his age. She didn’t deserve for Ashlyn to be cold and rude toward her.

  “Is Eric home? I have a few things I need to return.”

  Eric’s mother’s smile faded. “Oh. He said the two of you were having trouble.”

  Ashlyn could tell that Eric’s mother had probably taken some of her candy as she called it. Therefore, Ashlyn treaded lightly.

  “Is he here,” she repeated.

  “No, sweetie. You can drop it off in his room if you’d like.” She held the door open for Ashlyn to pass through. “I really do hope the two of you can work things out. You’re good for him.”

  Before Mrs. Weaver could say another word, or heaven forbid, have a mental breakdown, Ashlyn darted towards Eric’s room. She might have been good for Eric, but he wasn’t good for her or to her.

  Ashlyn hadn’t been to Eric’s house since before Christmas break. In those months, his room had changed greatly. It was a mess. Bottles and cans littered the floor. Several easily recognizable small orange bottles with white lids sat on his desk. The room smelled of smoke and just breathing the air seized at her lungs.

  She tossed the two bags of junk on the unmade bed, and in that moment felt like a weight had lifted from her.

  Just to feed her curiosity, she continued to glance around a moment more. Long gone were the happy pictures of them together that he kept on his nightstand. Where a frame once stood was now replaced with a tumbler, red lipstick on the empty glass. A few months ago, seeing that would have left her devastated, but now it did nothing. Even when she saw Crystal wearing the necklace Eric had gotten her for her birthday, she felt nothing. If anything, she felt free.

  No longer being able to withstand the stench of smoke and other repulsive smells, Ashlyn turned to leave. Upon looking down, watching her steps through the mess, she saw it. Eric could have done a million things to try to hurt her, but seeing that piece of paper was the worst.

  She grabbed the slip of paper, and swallowed heavily. Halshire Pawn Shoppe was in big bold letters across the top. Raymere Grove didn’t have a pawn shop, but the next town over did.

  Her eyes fell to the middle where the item was listed, a Mickey Mantle baseball, three hundred dollars. Then at the bottom was a signature she recognized.

  She hated him. After all the rotten and demeaning things he had said to her, for some reason this affected her more than anything. He stole from her father!

  Ashlyn tore out of Eric’s room and through the house. She didn’t know where his mother had gone, but she didn’t want to stick around, only to hear his mother talk about how great they were together. Eric wasn’t great. Eric wasn’t even good. There was a time when she would have fought for him, stood up for him, but that was so far out of the realm of possibilities now. If she would have had to see his mother again, she would have told her what a demon her son had become.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Daddy,” Ashlyn screamed when she walked into the house.

  A moment later Daniel rushed from his office. Ashlyn rarely called him daddy anymore. Usually it was dad or ugh, what. It only meant one thing. She was upset.

  As soon as he rounded the corner, Ashlyn burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  This was one of those parenting moments that he wasn’t prepared for. “Ash, sweetie, calm down. What’s wrong?”

  She held up the slip of paper and Daniel took it. Ashlyn forced herself to look at him and she couldn’t bear the look of disappointment that came to his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she began again. “I don’t know how he–”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Daniel interrupted. “If anything, he should feel sorry for getting screwed on that price.”

  Ashlyn stopped crying for a moment. “Wait, what? You’re not mad?”

  “Oh, I’m mad. I’m livid. We invited someone into our home, only for them to steal from us. Mad is putting it mildly. However, you don’t need to see me blow up right now, and above all, I need you to know that this is not your fault,” he insisted.

  “Yes, it is. If I never would have–”

  “There are always unknowns. No matter how long we know a person, we can never truly know what they’re capable of in times of desperation.”

  Ashlyn knew that her father would never blame it on her, but a part of her would always feel responsible. She should have let Eric throw a fit and ruin her party. She never should have let him inside.

  Daniel folded the paper up and put it in his pocket. He’d call the shop and see what he could work out. He then held out his arms and wrapped them around his daughter.

  “Don’t cry. It’s just a stupid baseball. No reason for you to have puffy eyes for your big show tomorrow,” he teased.

  “Ugh, dad,” Ashlyn scoffed.

  He wouldn’t tell her, but he missed hearing daddy.

  “It’s not my show. Any art students that wanted to show their work will have it there,” she continued.

  Daniel shrugged. “I still like to think of it as your show.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Tripp: Not to make things awkward…

  Ashlyn: When I get that for a message, it’s a little scary.

  Tripp: I mentioned the art show at dinner tonight.

  Ashlyn: And?

  Tripp: My parents are planning to check it out.

  Tripp groaned as he flung back on his bed. He figured his mom would want to come. She adored Ashlyn. Never did he think his father would bother making time to tag
along.

  Ashlyn: So, I’m meeting your parents.

  Tripp: You’ve already met my mom.

  Ashlyn: This is different. I’d be meeting them as your girlfriend.

  Tripp: I can tell them not to come!

  Ashlyn: Wow. This is all so much. You’re not planning on proposing, are you?

  Tripp: Ha. Ha. I’m glad you think it’s funny.

  Ashlyn: Sorry. It’s cute. I don’t mind at all.

  She did mind a little, but she wouldn’t tell Tripp that. She was pretty sure that he was more stressed about it than she was.

  She hovered over the screen, debating if she should tell him about Eric. Now wasn’t the time. Everything was good between them. Besides, knowing Tripp, he’d probably be on his way to the pawn shop as soon as she told him.

  Tripp: Goodnight, beautiful.

  Tripp’s hands shook. There was more that he wanted to add, but he wasn’t that stupid. He couldn’t say more in a text. It was insane that he was thinking it to begin with, but Ashlyn made him feel so much.

  Chapter 33

  Tripp went ahead of his parents to the art showing at the school’s commons. The doors opened to the artists at two, but to everyone else at three. Needless to say, he was in the parking lot at 2:55.

  Tripp already knew what her photography choices were, as she had sent him digital copies. He had also seen most of the ship painting; however, he had yet to have any hint on the other two, aside from the zoomed in picture of blue and black that Ashlyn sent over spring break.

  When he finally got inside and scanned for the ship painting, looking for her section, he became mesmerized with just how good some of the art students were. He didn’t know many of them, but they were as talented with a brush as he was with a bat.

  He rounded another corner of panels that were set up as makeshift walls. He couldn’t help but freeze in his tracks. He saw the small prints of the flowers surrounding the three paintings. What he didn’t expect were the paintings.

  Ashlyn had done a wonderful job with the details of the ship, and he loved the blending of the two different backgrounds, going from stormy skies to sunlight and birds. It was one of those that had a deeper meaning. He knew because she told him. The other two however…

  He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that one was painted before spring break, before anything aside from a kiss had taken place between them. This was the painting that was covered in her room that day they worked on the science project. No wonder she freaked at the idea of him seeing it.

  Of all the action shots he knew she had of the baseball team, she had chosen one of him sliding into home. He hated to say it, but she almost made him look better on canvas than in real life.

  He turned to the third painting and his heart began to beat faster. It was an image that would forever be stuck in his mind. Their feet were so close together on the blanket, and if he looked closely enough, it almost looked like the grass between them and the lake was blowing in the spring breeze. So that’s what was captured when he heard the click of her camera.

  He couldn’t believe how much of him was in her work. It only cemented what he needed to tell her.

  “Were you waiting at the doors to be let in,” a soft voice called from behind, startling Tripp.

  He spun around and his stomach dropped. She was always beautiful, but after seeing her paintings and looking at her now, she was an entirely different kind of beautiful.

  Tripp uncomfortably rubbed at the back of his neck. “Wow. You look…”

  “Thanks,” Ashlyn quickly interrupted him, seeing as he was at a loss for words.

  She wasn’t dressed overly extravagant, but she was wearing a new dress and shoes with only the slightest of heels. She was already decently tall, which is why she wasn’t a fan of high heels. She felt uncomfortable standing near the freshman boys who hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet.

  Tripp stepped forward and gave Ashlyn a side hug and a quick peck on the cheek. He didn’t want to draw any attention with over-the-top gestures of public displays of affection.

  They only had the shortest of conversations before Ashlyn was called away by a teacher that Tripp was unfamiliar with.

  Tripp wandered about until he found the refreshment tables, as well as people his own age.

  “Wow, Emory. You look nice,” Tripp greeted.

  She glared at him and sipped on her soda. “I wear dresses you know! I have dresses! I am a girl! Hell, I’m a cheerleader,” she ranted, throwing her arms up in defeat.

  Tripp’s eyes widened and he quickly wondered if he was suddenly speaking a different language. “Uh…”

  Deacon paused his conversation with Ellis. “I told her the same thing,” Deacon huffed.

  Emory snapped back to Deacon. “No. It’s the way you said it.”

  “Fine! I won’t tell you that you look good.”

  “Eww. Please don’t,” Ellis groaned.

  “You know what,” Emory began, waving a finger at her brother. “Shut up.” She then proceeded to stomping away, grumbling something about finding girl friends.

  “Did I say something wrong,” Tripp asked, completely confused by Emory’s behavior.

  “No. She’s just nuts,” Ellis scoffed.

  Tripp’s attention immediately went to Deacon, seeing how Emory really seemed to be annoyed with him. Deacon didn’t meet his gaze, only bit his lip and shook his head. That was his normal and quiet Deacon fashion.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Halfway through the exhibition, Ashlyn was ready to leave. She had barely gotten to speak with Emory, Kayla, and June. Aside from the very beginning, she didn’t even see Tripp anymore. Worst of all her feet were killing her.

  She was headed to the refreshment station. Her display happened to be on the way, and as she passed by, an older gentleman, in a suit, about her father’s age, stopped her.

  “These are yours, correct.”

  Ashlyn was so thirsty from talking to teachers and people that her teachers wanted her to talk to. “Yes. Did you have any questions about my work?”

  “How much would you sell that one for,” he asked, pointing to the one of Tripp.

  That took Ashlyn by surprise. This was just a showcase for the students, nothing was expected to be sold.

  It took a minute for his question to truly register to Ashlyn. “Umm…I was actually planning on giving it to a friend of mine.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “A friend?”

  “Yes. It’s actually of him,” she clarified. “He’s a great guy.”

  “He is. Often too great to the wrong people.”

  Ashlyn felt the air sucked out of her. Fumbling, “You’re Tripp’s dad?”

  The man extended a hand. “Ronan Scott.”

  Ashlyn nervously took it, internally cursing Tripp for not telling her that his parents had arrived.

  “And you must be the girl that has taken up so much of my son’s time,” he assumed with a smirk.

  Though he appeared to mean it in a joking way, that wasn’t the vibe that Ashlyn got from him.

  “Well, like I said, he’s a great guy,” she emphasized. “And he’s been wonderful to me.”

  Whatever smile Ronan had quickly faded, and Ashlyn could feel his eyes scrutinizing her every word and every action.

  “Yes. He’s a bit naïve when it comes to choosing friends.” Ronan glanced behind Ashlyn to his wife holding up a bottle of water in the distance. “If you will excuse me.”

  When Tripp’s father left, Ashlyn felt like crumbling to the floor. He was rude. Right? Wasn’t that rudeness? His words were such a surprise to her that she was still having a hard time processing.

  Suddenly she didn’t feel thirsty. More than anything, she felt like she needed air, and space. She didn’t see anyone she knew in her vicinity, so she made a break for the outside, brushing past numerous amounts of people still coming in.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Tripp began looking everywhere for Ashlyn after realizing that his
father had already met her. He specifically wanted to introduce them, but his father had to go and do it on his terms.

  He ran in to Kayla along the way, but she seemed oblivious to Ashlyn’s whereabouts. He saw Emory stuffing her face with hors d’oeuvres and complaining about something to June. He was tempted to ask her, but feared that he’d only get his head bitten off.

  Instead, Tripp continued to go up and down the panels of artwork in the school’s commons. He went to Ashlyn’s first, but she hadn’t been there. After looking everywhere else, he decided to check again, not knowing how much he’d regret that.

  “You,” Eric growled at Tripp right before Tripp had the chance to veer into a different direction.

  Playing it cool, “Hey, man.”

  “What the hell is this about,” Eric said, the volume of his voice garnering a few extra eyes.

  Tripp didn’t answer. He only looked to the paintings behind Eric and pretended to be in deep thought about them.

  “Why is my girlfriend painting a picture of you,” Eric went on.

  Tripp clenched his teeth. He badly wanted to put Eric in his place, but at that moment, where they stood, wasn’t the right time. He knew Eric had a colossal temper, and being the sane one of the two, his best option was to deescalate the situation and get far away from him.

  Tripp narrowed his eyes at the painting that Eric was pointing to. “Is that…Huh…Number twenty-seven. Yeah, I guess that is me.”

  “Cut the crap Scott.”

  Apparently that hadn’t been the best thing to say. “Look, I have no idea why she chose that photo for inspiration, but overall, I think she did a pretty good job, on all of her stuff.”

  Eric took a step closer. Tripp wanted to back away, but he was tired of Eric. The last thing he wanted was for Eric to think that he was afraid of him and could be easily pushed around.

  “Are you messing with my girl,” Eric quietly hissed.