Artistic License

by Julie Hyzy

  She’d go to Uncle Lou’s house and have to hope he’d be home because she didn’t have his key with her either.

  Just ahead, on the south side of the street, her park beckoned. She’d always considered it her own because she and Karla had spent so many hours there on the swings, on the slides, and climbing the trees. But mostly on the swings.

  The grass near the street, freshly cut, smelled of summer and green. The sun glinted off the metal slide, nearly blinding in its brightness. One of those old-fashioned slides, it hadn’t yet been replaced with the colorful plastic kind that dotted the newer neighborhoods and the suburbs. A tall, scary slide, with two matching drops, it had no safety features other than a rusted metal railing near the top. Kids could fall off, but never did. Annie remembered the fast rides down if you picked your feet up and searing hot burns on the backs of your legs if you didn’t.

  Annie had taken a stray kitten down that slide once, when she was seven, thinking the animal would enjoy the ride. Confused, the poor thing had tried to escape, using the only means available, clawing up her arms, chest, and face. Panicked that the cat might fall to the ground, she held tighter, but the cat only scratched harder. It took a couple weeks before she healed completely. But the cat was okay. And Annie never tried that again.

  Her eyes shifted over the playground area.

  The swings were open.

  She rested her arms atop the silver cyclone fence that surrounded Dolorosa Park. The afternoon had gotten hot, the cool promise of the morning forgotten as the sun shimmered bright above clear skies. She ran a hand around the back of her neck, grimaced at the wetness, then wiped the perspiration on her jeans. Toward the back of the large park, beyond the playground area, the sprinklers provided a cool respite for about a dozen kids.

  The colorful children, some in bathing suits, some fully clothed in shorts and shoes, blurred as they danced and jumped, shouting through the sparkling sprays. Annie wished she had a camera to capture them, their skins, pink, brown, black, glimmering wet in the afternoon sun. It would make a beautiful watercolor.

  Her eyes shifted back to the swings. These were the good kind, the ones that were hooked onto sturdy metal piping set solidly into the ground. Strong enough, high enough, for an adult to swing. Annie walked around the fence into the park, her hand straying a moment to touch the welcome sign. Just for a minute, she thought.

  Dropping her backpack on the gravel near the corner post, Annie took the first swing and settled herself into the u-shaped seat. Just lifting her feet a little caused her to sway. She grasped the metal chains with both hands and kicked her feet back, causing a bit of a breeze on her face as she swung forward.

  The children’s squeals and laughter were suddenly muffled by the sound of machinery. Two men on matching yellow industrial-sized lawn mowers kicked their engines into gear, moving to the center of the ball fields to cut the grass. The steady roar from her right, and the hum of traffic along the main street to Annie’s left as she sat there, rocking on the swing, provided comforting background noise.

  “I want to see Sam,” she said aloud.

  There, she admitted it.

  Kicking her feet forward, she gave herself a little boost. Her plan to visit Sam tonight, to stop in there casually for some ice cream, for a visit, was shot. Gary had her car and Annie knew that he was gone with it. For how long, she had no idea. She knew that with no means of getting there, she could kiss good-bye the idea of “just happening by” Millie’s Ice Cream Parlour tonight.

  Swaying, allowing her thoughts to roam, she wondered exactly how Gary had known Sam’s name. She’d taken great care never to mention it to him. But he knew.

  She put her feet down for a moment, stopping herself. He must have followed her. There wasn’t another explanation that made sense. Annie closed her eyes, trying to purge frustration from her body. The sooner he was out of her life, the better her life would be. She lifted her feet to start swaying again. But now what?

  Going home held no appeal with Pete there. Asleep, most likely, on that wretched vibrating chair. One of the things she hadn’t noticed about the chair at first, was that the leather back had a removable outer casing. She’d found that out late last night when she caught Pete hiding girlie magazines in the zippered backside. She’d pretended not to notice, but as she exited the room she noticed him reaching to pull them out again. To be home alone with that creep was too much for her to bear.

  Maybe she could stay the night with Uncle Lou. He’d be more than willing to put her up, but where? There wasn’t a horizontal surface in his home that wasn’t covered with books or papers or collections of magazines. He’d have to clean up for her. Though he’d be willing to do it, she wasn’t willing to put him through it.

  She could go to a hotel. For a few nights at least. The cost would hurt, but Annie didn’t see too many other options. Getting there, though, would be a problem.

  Straightening out her legs, then pulling them back as she crested forward, Annie got a good rhythm going on the swing. She leaned back, stretching her whole body as her feet pointed skyward again. It had been years since she’d been on these. Her hands perspired around the solid chains as she pulled back, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sun, enjoying the wind in her face.

  It used to frighten her to lean all the way back, to hang her head far behind her and see the world upside down as she swung. But she always did it anyway, enjoying the little thrill of fear that tickled her stomach. She dropped her head back now, wondering how close her hair was to touching the ground below her. The world flew by, tilted and weird, moving up and down in a gentle rocking motion. It was still a little scary, but she was braver now.

  Or was she?

  Sitting up, Annie dragged her feet along the bouncy white pebbles below her and skidded to a stop. What she wanted more than anything was to see Sam. To make things right with him again. And what was she doing? Sitting alone, feeling sorry for herself, and lamenting the fact that she didn’t have a car.

  Reaching for her backpack, Annie pulled out her cell phone. Behind her, the two men on lawn tractors had cut their motors and gotten off their perches to examine something in the middle of the field. Perfect timing. Maybe it was an omen. Or not. Maybe there was nothing between her and Sam other than a comfortable working relationship.

  There was only one way to find out, she thought, as she dialed Millie’s number.

  He answered the phone himself.

  “Hi, Sam?” Annie said, hoping to quell the tiny tremor in her voice. “Got a minute?”

  “Annie?” Her stomach did a little flip-flop when she heard the warmth in his voice. “I’ve got as long as you need.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and tried not to sound as relieved as she felt. The sky looked bluer all of a sudden, and she closed her eyes a moment before speaking. Now or never, she thought to herself. “I have a favor to ask . . .”

  * * * * *

  “Jeff?” Car keys in hand, Sam called into the kitchen area, getting the teenager’s attention. “I’ve gotta run out for a few minutes. Can you handle the place?”

  “Sure. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I have to go pick up Annie. She had . . . ah . . . car trouble.”

  “She doesn’t usually come in on Fridays, does she?”

  Sam scratched his neck, “No. She’s not working tonight. Hey, if I needed you to close for me, could you do it?”

  “Sure, Mr. Morgan. No problem.”

  With his index finger in the round key ring, Sam played with his keys, flipping the bunch into his palm, over and over. Pushing the flat brass plate of the front door, he stepped outside, wincing as he hit the outside heat. Annie was waiting in this miserable humidity. Waiting for him. He wanted to get to her as quickly as possible, knowing how low a pregnant woman’s tolerance for high temperatures could be.

  Sliding into the driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition, he stopped. Sam the rescuer sat back and took a m
oment to assess the situation. She’d called him. She’d needed a friend and she’d called him. He smiled at that.

  He lifted his key toward the ignition again. Stopped again.

  Why was he so anxious to get to her? The beating from his heart seemed a bit louder than normal. Quicker too, but he had just jaunted across the across the parking lot. Clammy hands, but what else could he expect coming from the nice air-conditioning into this inferno?

  Sam started the car, eased it into traffic, and made his way toward Annie. He’d been surprised and relieved when her voice came over the phone line. Yesterday she’d poured out her heart about the husband, Gary, and his friend. He’d listened and then . . . done nothing. No words of encouragement. No support. Annie’s pained reaction, and her hurried departure, had made him feel enormous guilt all day.

  He had to admit that the idea of Gary living back at the house with her bugged him. Realistically, he knew that she wasn’t living with him in the marital sense—but still.

  Twenty minutes later, Sam pulled up to a red light just a half block short of where they were to meet. He could see Annie sitting on a park bench, her ankles crossed and pulled far back under the seat, her back straight. Her reddish brown hair glinted in the sun as her head moved, scanning the passing cars.

  As the light changed to green, she stood up, spotting him. She gave a little wave. Sam pulled up to the curb and Annie got in, bringing with her a blast of hot air, her skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration. Her eyes seemed even brighter than usual against the pink of her cheeks. Her breathless “Hi” and her apologetic smile gave Sam the impression that she was nervous.

  “Back to Millie’s?”

  “That’d be great, Sam. And maybe I can work on the mural a bit.”

  As the car’s air-conditioning kicked in, Sam watched the cool air reach Annie’s face, pick up the ends of her hair and play with them, making the tips wiggle and dance around her eyes. She brushed the stray hairs out of her way and smiled at him.

  “Tell you what. How about you come back to the shop with me for a while, but not to paint? I’m all caught up with the bills and payroll, and I wouldn’t mind a little company. You can tell me more about everything that’s been going on, and if you need a ride home later, I’ll take you. How does that sound?”

  “That,” she said, with more relief in her voice than Sam had expected, “sounds wonderful.”

  * * * * *

  On the drive back, Annie tried to make the episode sound humorous, describing the woman with the mashed potatoes and the diners who looked like they were watching a soap opera. She downplayed her humiliation, instead focusing on how much tea she’d managed to hit Gary with. When she looked over at Sam, she could see that he wasn’t buying her lightheartedness.

  They were about halfway back to the ice cream shop, when she got to the part about the woman coming into the bathroom a second time. Sam pulled the car over to the side of the road and looked at her.

  “And then he left you there?”

  Annie nodded. Sam shook his head, facing outward, his gaze fixed on his small crystal pentagram hood ornament. She knew he was feeling sorry for her. “But it’s not like I haven’t walked home from Donagan’s before. It’s not that far, really.”

  “Annie,” Sam turned to her, without smiling, “don’t try to justify his actions. The man’s an idiot.”

  “I know.” Annie wrinkled her nose, replaying the scene in her mind. “But I guess anybody who just got doused with iced tea is going to be pretty upset. Anybody would be mad enough to leave.”

  Sam took a moment before speaking, and when he did, his mouth curled up in a sad way. “I never would have left you there. No matter what.”

  Looking into his intense blue eyes Annie felt a little tickle in her stomach. His left arm was propped against the steering wheel in a way that turned his whole body to face her. The top button of his dress shirt was undone. The bow tie, vest and garters from his sleeves were gone and it made him look more casual than usual. She could see his tension from the set of his jaw and the whiteness of his knuckles as his hands made fists.

  Annie touched his hand, “I know that, Sam. But you’re not just anybody.”

  Something shifted in his eyes. His fists loosened, and his face broke into a smile. God, she loved that smile. He returned both hands to the steering wheel and looked out again, deep in thought.

  “You’re not going back there tonight, are you?”

  “No,” Annie heard the hesitance in her voice. The more she’d thought about a motel, the less she liked the idea.

  “Will you stay with your uncle?”

  “He doesn’t have the room for me. I figured I’d stay at that new hotel they just built off of Harlem.”

  “And your clothes, your stuff?”

  Annie gave an embarrassed smile. “Well, it’s not like I’ve had a chance to give it a lot of thought. But it seems like my best option.”

  Swiveling his head her direction, he asked, “You trust me, don’t you?”

  “Completely.”

  “I have an idea. Before you say no, hear me out, okay?”

  Annie nodded.

  “Let’s drive back to your house . . .” Sam held up his hands at her reaction, “just to pick some things up. And then I’ll take you back to my house.” His words rushed out. “You can stay with me . . . until you can get these two losers to move out. To be safe, okay?”

  Dumbfounded, Annie said nothing.

  “I have spare rooms; you can pick the one you want. It may be weeks before they get their asses in gear, and it just seems wrong for you to be living like that, uncomfortable in your own home. If we go back now, it’ll be better, in case they’re there, for you to have someone with you, anyway.”

  “Sam . . .”

  “We’re friends, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then let me do this for you, okay?”

  Annie rarely cried at sad movies. The ones that always got her were the happy ones, the ones where the most unexpected wonderful thing happened to the worthy hero. Looking at this unexpected wonderful man who’d become such an important part of her life, she had to fight the hot lump twisting in her throat before speaking.

  “Thanks, Sam.

  ”

  * * * * *

  Her car was nowhere to be seen when they got back to her house. Still, Annie called out as she walked in.

  “Gary?” she said, trying to make her voice sound sharp.

  No answer.

  “Pete, are you here?” There was no mistaking her tone with him. She walked from room to room in the small house, with Sam behind. But they were gone.

  Returning to the foyer, Sam examined the leaded crystal oval of the front door. “This is beautiful,” he said, running his finger along the wood grain frame. He swung it back and forth a few times, causing rainbows of light to dance on the walls and ceiling behind it. “Where did you get this great door?”

  Annie stood in the center of the living room, tapping her lip with her index finger, concentrating on what she would need to take. “Hmmm? Oh. The Kane County Flea Market.”

  “I haven’t been there in years,” he said. “We should go sometime.”

  Annie looked up and locked eyes with Sam, who wore an expression of surprise, as though he’d spoken before thinking. “I’d like that,” she said, and felt her heart skip a little when he smiled at her answer.

  Necessities in hand from the bathroom, Annie moved to the bedroom, where she pulled out some jeans, a few tops, and one casual dress, just in case. She didn’t know how long she’d be at Sam’s, and while his offer was generous, she wondered how uncomfortable she’d feel staying there. Although, truth be told, she felt more comfortable around him now than she thought wise. She’d have to contemplate that, but right now packing needed her undivided attention.

  So far all her clothes still fit, but Karla told her that first pregnancies take a while to show. She should be safe for at least another m
onth, and her stint at Sam’s certainly wouldn’t be that long. Recently Annie felt as though some of her jeans were getting snug, but that might be from all the milkshakes.

  Poking her head out the doorway, she checked on Sam. He was leafing through a stack of her watercolors, slowly. Taking his time with each one, before moving it forward to see the next.

  Back at her task, she opened her underwear drawer and grabbed the multi-colored stack of dainties. Shutting the drawer with her hip, she stopped for a moment and bit her lip. Bending, she opened a second drawer, rooting around before she pulled out her lacy bras and silken underwear, holding them for a thoughtful moment. She could hear Sam walking around in the living room. It was a comforting sound.

  What had he said? That they were friends. That she should trust him.

  With a sigh of regret, she shoved the fancy underthings back in their drawer and slammed it shut.

  “All set?” he asked as she emerged.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Annie looked around the room, trying to decide what she might be forgetting. She glanced down at the coffee table. “Wait a minute, my newspaper clippings are gone.”

  “The ones your uncle gave you?”

  “Yeah,” Annie said, drawing out the word in puzzlement. “I was sure I left them right here. I thought I’d take them along. He still wants me to do some research on that Durer drawing.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, but once a reporter, always a reporter, and I’m his resident Art Expert, whether I deserve the title or not.” Annie laughed, looking under some of the books on the side tables. “I could have sworn . . .” she said. “No matter, I’ll call him and see if he can’t get me new copies.”

  Sam reached to take the oversized gym bag from her shoulders and gestured with his chin to the stack of paintings he’d been looking through. “Take those, too.”

  “My watercolors? Why?”

  “They’re wonderful. Just breathtaking. And if this Gary character comes back and sees you gone, he’s going to be mad. He’s going to want to hurt you somehow. What better way to do that than destroy the things most important to you?”