by Lindy Zart
“Did you miss me?” I breathlessly joke, smoothing down her tousled hair.
Her grip tautens, the crown of her head banging against my chin as she nods.
“I said I’d see you again,” I quietly remind her, feeling warm wetness seep through my shirt to mark my skin with the tears of a child.
“You didn’t…say…when.” Paisley loosens her grasp on my neck just enough to meet my eyes with her tear-filled blue ones. She has Jonesy’s eyes, Jonesy’s heart. Luckily, she has her mother’s common sense and intelligence.
I sit us up and situate her to my side, careful to keep an arm around her. Paisley locks her arms around my waist, burrowing her face in my shoulder. I am aware we have witnesses, but I don’t bother to acknowledge Paisley’s family standing on the porch. Right now, it’s just her and me. I owe her a proper hello. So I hold her, and I don’t say much for a while.
After enough time to get some of my courage in check, I open my mouth, and pause. I blow out a noisy breath of air. “I’m sorry for my crappy goodbye. I’m sorry…” I blink my eyes as my throat tightens. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you, kid.”
“It’s okay,” comes out meekly from the girl beside me. “I know you can’t be my mom.”
My breath catches as I exhale, and I pull her closer. My knees are bent, and there is a cramp forming in my left side. I keep holding her.
“That’s right, because you already have an amazing mom.” I think of Blake’s words, of his belief that people never really leave us, and I tell Paisley, “She’s still with you. You know that, right?”
A broken sound leaves her, a sniffle, and then she nods again. “I know.”
I look to her aunt, uncle, and cousin. They’re all tall and thin, brown-haired, and have hawk eyes on us. “Are they treating you right?”
Paisley nods. “Yeah. Eileen, my cousin, lets me wear her favorite pink shirt sometimes.”
I smile. “That’s nice of her. You’re liking it here then? Everything’s going good?”
She nods again, and some of the worry unfurls from my being.
“Good. I heard you have pizza, and that’s a good thing, because let me tell you, I am hungry.”
Paisley laughs and finally releases me. “You’re always hungry.”
“You got that right.”
Once Paisley is standing, she offers her hands to me. I pretend I’m stuck to the ground, producing giggles from her, before finally allowing her to pull me up.
Bouncing along beside me as I walk to the house, she asks, “Will you make me tater tot casserole again sometime?”
“You bet.” I don’t know when, but I’ll make it happen. “And why am I not surprised that that is one of your first questions?”
Paisley grins, showing a place where a tooth was the last time I saw her.
“Where’d your tooth go?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I got five dollars for it.”
“Wow. That’s one rich tooth fairy.”
“Where did you go after you left?” she asks as we approach her awaiting family.
“I went to North Dakota.”
Wide eyes focus on me. “Really? Why? What did you do?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I whisper, stopping before the trio.
Something weird happens. They all break out in smiles and hugs, and Tammy hugs me the hardest. “Thank you for coming,” she murmurs, and I can only nod, emotion blocking my vocal chords.
“Is it true you can draw anyone?” her cousin Eileen asks, leading the way inside the house.
“She can even draw animals,” Paisley brags, holding my hand.
“I’ll draw you both after supper, how’s that sound?” I wink at the girls.
The meal goes by without a hitch, both Tammy and Donald being polite about the whole thing. Donald, who I am told has a career in advertising, asks me about my drawings. I tell him about my comic series idea, and he offers suggestions on how to promote my work, should I ever decide to seriously pursue a career with them. All in all, it’s a decent time. I help Tammy with the dishes afterward, and she tells me I am welcome to come back at any time, even without calling ahead. I can tell that’s a big deal to her, and I thank her for trusting me with Paisley.
“Do you have to go already?” Paisley asks from her bed. She bathed and dressed in yellow pajamas while I helped Tammy with cleanup. She looks small and sad, her damp hair as weighted down as her shoulders.
A lamp offers muted light to the lavender walls and cream curtains and bedding. It’s a beautiful room, exactly the kind I would have liked to have as a child.
“I do.” I finish up the drawing of her and Eileen, setting the paper on the desk I used to draw it. I shift and the small chair creaks against my weight. “But I’ll call, and I’ll visit when I can, and I’ll even send mail. And, hey, I don’t want you to be sad about me, okay?”
Eyes lowered, she nods and picks at the pink fur of the cat I gave her when she came to live with me and Jonesy. “Are you going back to North Dakota?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Will you tell me about it now?”
“Yep.” I stand and move to the white-framed daybed, kicking off my boots before clambering up beside Paisley. She scoots over to give me more room, and then she rests her head in the crook of my shoulder. I stroke her fine hair and smile. “I got to be in a circus.”
“Really?” Paisley’s voice squeaks and she catapults up, staring at me in wonder.
“Really.” My smile grows. “And I got to swim in a pond at night and ride on a four-wheeler. Have you ever been on one of those before?”
Eyes wide, she shakes her head.
“But best of all, I met someone really special. His name is Blake,” I say softly.
Settling back against me, Paisley asks, “Is he a prince?”
My fingers pause on her cheek, moving again as I talk. “Kind of. Like a dark, misunderstood, beautiful prince. And he has his own castle, but at first, he didn’t know how to rule it.”
“Why not?” she mumbles, sleep thickening her voice.
“He was scared to have hope.” I press a kiss to her warm forehead.
“Did he stop being scared?”
“I think so, in the end.” I hug Paisley and close my eyes, gently rubbing my cheek to the softness of her hair. “Don’t ever give up hope, okay, kid?”
“Okay,” she slurs.
“Promise.” I sit back, opening my eyes.
“I promise.”
“All right.” Tammy appears in the doorway, a faint smile on her face. I smile back. “I have to go now, but you know it isn’t forever. I’ll see you around.”
Paisley sighs and nestles down into her bed. “I love you, Opal.”
“I love you too, kid.” I give her a final kiss on the cheek before I go.
“What will you do now?” Tammy asks as I sling on my backpack and head for the front door.
I shrug and grip the doorknob. “I’ll figure it out. Take care of her.”
“I will. She’s as much a part of my family as my husband and daughter.”
Opening the door, I smile as I turn to leave.
“Opal, wait.”
Eyebrows lifted, I turn back and meet Tammy’s direct gaze.
She doesn’t move for so long I wonder if she’s able, but then, with a sigh, she shakes her head and removes something from the pocket of her jeans. It’s a piece of folded paper. “This is for you. Jonesy asked me to give it to you, should I happen to see you.”
I take a step toward outside and freedom. I don’t want to know what Jonesy has to say. “I don’t—no, I don’t want it.”
“I read it,” Tammy confesses, not looking the least bit guilty. “You should too.”
She walks briskly toward me and I turn
to eye the darkened night, wondering if I can make it outside before she reaches me. Seeming to know my thoughts, Tammy hurries her pace, grabbing my wrist as I am about to walk through the doorway. I look at her fingers, surprised by the strength in them.
“Take it.” Opening my hand, she sets the paper in my palm, and closes my hand into a fist over it. She meets my eyes, hers uncompromising. “Read it.”
“Can’t you just tell me what it says?” I try one last time.
Her dark eyes narrow.
I swallow and slowly nod. “Okay. I’ll read it.”
Tammy releases me only when I put the paper in my pocket, and rubbing my sore wrist, I leave the Royce house with a sense of rightness. Paisley will have the family, the permanence, I never did. It was good that I was with Jonesy when I was, or Paisley might still be with him, or worse. I guess at that instant in time, I had a purpose, and I made the most of it. In the twisted way of life, good things came out of bad.
With a sigh, and a feeling of dread whirling around in my stomach, I unfold the paper.
Opal, I know it was you who called the cops on me, but that’s okay. I needed to be shown I was wrong, and being in jail has shown me that. I won’t come after you, and no one else will. Don’t worry about Paisley. I’m going to be a great dad when I get out.
-Jonathan
Well. That’s that, I guess.
I give the house a final wave, knowing there is a motel less than two miles away. I’ll get a room for the night, and as an added bonus, I’ll have a phone for the night. There is someone I need to call if I want to get started on my future.
15
Blake
There was one piece of advice I was given during the summer—a singular, clear moment in the nonsense that usually comes out of Kennedy’s mouth—that has stuck with me over the weeks since I said goodbye to Opal. I didn’t believe the words at the time, and yet, I memorized them. Thought of them often. Saw them brought to life as I got to know Opal.
“One day you’ll find someone you don’t have to feel the need to hide from. She won’t be something you think you want or need. She won’t be your redemption. You’ll know when you find her, because you’ll want to change for you, not for her.”
I’m still baffled by how accurate her words were. I wipe sweat from my forehead, roll my shoulders against a kink in my back, and take one last swipe with the paintbrush across the last spot of unpainted wall in the shed. In a spontaneous moment of Opal taking over my brain, I chose baby blue for the wall color, because, like a total mush head, I thought she’d like it. But even if she never sees it, it’s calming to me. Makes me think of clear, blue skies.
I miss her. I miss her in the pause between each heartbeat. The sunless days. I miss her during the night when I reach out to the ghost of a memory. Whatever happens, or doesn’t, I’m glad I got to know her. I’m glad for the ache, because it lets me know how deeply I let myself care for someone, and that gives me hope. I’m redeemable, and for a long time, I feared I wasn’t. The wounds are still there, but they’re scabbed over now. They don’t hurt so much.
My hands are sore and my back is killing me; I have paint lodged under my nails that all the scrubbing in the world can’t seem to get rid of, and a crick in my neck that doesn’t seem to want to go away, but I feel good. Of value. I’ve painted every day since I last saw Opal. Fortunately, Graham stayed an extra few days to help me. Unfortunately, so did Kennedy.
I named the stray cat Baxter, and he presently sits near my boots. I lean back on my heels to lazily scratch at his chin. I think even the cat misses Opal, if only because she isn’t around for him to antagonize. He closes his eyes and leans into my touch. This black cat has become my sidekick. He showed up again a week after Opal left, and as if knowing I needed a friend, has hung around since. He goes off for days at a time, but he always come back, carrying that damn brown sock in his mouth.
“What do you say, Bax? Should we call it a day?”
I don’t have any long-term goals for the shed, and there’s so much more to do with it. Maybe, one day, it can be turned into the vision my grandpa saw for it. Or maybe it will be used for something else. I don’t know. But I know the incompletion of it can’t continue. It’s like looking at a lost dream every time I glance at it. I couldn’t take it anymore, and with nothing else going on, I had no excuse to not work on it.
The black cat meows again and trots toward the door, looking back as if to tell me to hurry up.
I clean up the paint and supplies and step out of the shed, instantly chilled by the October air. The sun is out, but there are clouds swirling around, and it won’t be long before it’s snowing.
Hunching my shoulders against the icy wind, I turn in the direction of the pond. It can’t be warmer than forty-something, but it doesn’t deter me from removing everything but my boxers, and jumping into the frigid water. A curse is ripped from my throat as I shoot upright, wondering how Opal could do this, even if it was in August. The water wasn’t that much warmer then.
From the edge of the pond, the cat watches me, his head cocked like he doesn’t understand humans and their capacity for foolishness.
I tread water and laugh around chattering teeth, whipping my head to the side to remove hair from my eyes. More times than I like to admit, I thought about leaving here and escaping to Australia. I was at the airport, ready to go, and I couldn’t do it. I told myself I had no idea how to successfully fulfill my grandfather’s dream, that I was in no way close to the kind of man my grandfather was, and that I might as well leave the country like I initially planned. I envisioned what Opal would say to me, and it would be to stop being an ass and get to work. Anyone would contemplate the level of my sanity if they knew that I have conversations with Opal every day—in my head.
When I can no longer feel my toes, my fingertips are numb, and I fear I may have permanently frozen a place I’d rather not, I heft myself out of the water. Shaking with tremors, I grab my clothes and boots and hurry to the warmth of the house. I used to be lonely, but that isn’t the case anymore. I’ve learned to enjoy solitude. My problem before was that I hated myself, and being alone with me, well, that wasn’t exactly a good time. Now, though, it isn’t so bad. I’m okay with me.
I take a quick, blistering hot shower, dress in black lounge pants and a brown T-shirt, and shove my feet into a pair of worn tennis shoes. Used to the routine, Baxter walks with me to the truck and meows a goodbye. Keys in hand, I hop into the truck and navigate it toward the city. I pull up in front of the community center and shut off the engine, jingling the keys in my hand as I view my surroundings. You can do this, a voice tells me, and it sounds like Grandpa John. I grin and wink at nothing in particular.
I hear a gasp and look up.
Josie Nelson, a volunteer at the community center, looks back at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She’s kind of shy, but seems nice enough. I noticed her face turns red a lot when I’m around, like now. I squint my eyes, wondering at her reaction, and then I turn my head to hide a wince. She thinks I winked at her. It isn’t like I can tell her, no, I was actually winking at my dead grandpa.
“Hey, Josie,” I say evenly, nodding as I step around her.
But she turns with me, rapidly brushing brown hair from the side of her face. “Hey, um, hi…Blake.”
“Hey,” I greet again, my footsteps quickening.
“So, um, are you…uh…” She jogs to catch up to me.
I’m almost to the door. Three more steps and I’m there, and whatever she is about to say won’t be said.
“That is…would you maybe want to get a drink or something…sometime?” Josie asks in a rush just as I swing open the door.
I twist my head to the side to look at her. “I don’t drink.”
Color streaks across her face and she shifts her feet. “Right. I knew that. I just…it could be anything. Lemonade. Water. Or nothing
—we don’t have to drink.” She nervously laughs.
Holding open the door with my shoulder, I partially turn to face her. Our eyes meet, and before I can say anything, her face drops, and she takes a step in reverse. I used to be good at hiding what I’m thinking, so good I did it without effort, but at some point recently, I dropped the façade.
“Oh,” she breathes like a sad whisper.
“I can’t do that, Josie,” I tell her kindly.
Nodding, she widens the space even more between us, her eyes darting behind her like she is hoping a rescue car will magically appear and take her away. “Right. Okay. I see that. I thought…never mind.”
“There’s someone,” I blurt, the words choking me as they come up. Not because of their meaning—but because the someone isn’t with me. “I care about someone.”
Relief chases shadows from her face and Josie straightens. “Oh, thank God. I thought it was me.”
“It’s not you.” I wink again, directly at her this time, and she laughs shakily.
“Good to know.” Her smile is small, but genuine.
I nod as I move away from the door, and it shuts, leaving Josie outside with me inside. Looking around the spacious room with white walls and an overabundance of plants, I nod to volunteers and kids alike as I stride down the hall toward the gymnasium. It smells like Italian herbs and cheese in the sandstone building, a lingering reminder of the pizza party the staff had for the kids last night.
Inside the gym where a handful of kids play basketball, hip-hop music controls the scene, and I think of Opal in the truck, rapping along to a song I’ll never understand. A smile overtakes my face. Air caresses the top of my hair as I duck just in time to miss getting a basketball to the head. I look behind me to the basketball as it slams into the wall before returning my gaze forward.
“Heads up!”
I give Lavender a look. “Little late with the warning there, weren’t you?”