Paint Me True

by E. M. Tippetts

  I had no idea how to shoot or throw a grenade. The game showed me, but I was terrible at it. I’d shoot a line of holes in the wall behind the bad guys and chuck grenades too wide, so that at best, they knocked the baddies over.

  And then the tutorial was over. I was playing the game. Great, I thought. I was in another dark hallway. I pivoted around to see my options, but the door behind me was closed, so there was only one way to go. I made it three steps before a baddie jumped out and shot at me. I tried to shoot back but forgot to select a weapon, so I just saw my character’s fists make punching motions while red splashes of blood spurted up from all the gunshot wounds I was getting. The little display of my body armor showed it was compromised. I finally managed to load a grenade and throw it, and for once I hit the target and got to watch dismembered limbs go flying as it detonated.

  Gross.

  O-kay, I thought. I advanced down the hall and armed myself with a gun. The next time a baddie came after me, I turned down a side hall and ran as fast as I could. More bad guys jumped out of doors and dropped from hatches above me. I just ran until all of my armor was red and then my healthbar went down, and then I died.

  So much for that. I looked down at the controller in my hands and admired how quickly I’d gotten used to it. It was well designed. The game asked me if I wanted to try again. I did not, so I put the controller down, brushed my hands off against my sweatpants, and turned around to get up.

  Len and Chris were standing behind the couch. I just about jumped out of my skin. “Oh, hi,” I said. “That was fast.”

  “Um... no it wasn’t,” said Chris. “It’s been forty minutes.”

  I looked at my watch and blinked. Forty minutes really had gone by, but how? I’d only done the tutorial and made one pathetic attempt to play the game. Now I understood how Len could do three hour marathons and not think it was excessive.

  “Though, to be honest,” said Len, “we’ve been standing here for the last ten minutes.”

  “Why, so you can laugh at me?”

  “Hey, did you hear us laugh?” said Chris.

  “I didn’t hear you come in, so how do I know?” I got to my feet and folded my arms across my chest, daring them to mock me. I could take it.

  Chris just chuckled and headed back to his room. Len smirked. “Did you have fun?”

  “Yes, blowing people up and getting gunned down as I run for my life are how I’d choose to spend my time if I get the chance. I find it spiritually uplifting. Perfect way to spend hours and hours on the Sabbath.”

  “I don’t normally get gunned down that fast,” said Len.

  “And you probably kill more people. Even better.”

  He chuckled at that. “Okay... fair enough.”

  I shook my head. “I wasn’t actually trying to get you to stop gaming on Sundays-”

  But Len had already stepped around the couch and knelt in front of the gaming console. As I watched, he popped out the game and put in another one. Plinky cartoon music played over the speakers and he tossed me the controller again. “See how you do with this one.”

  “Is this the one I got you?”

  “No.” He took the other controller and sat on the floor beside me.

  “Did I get you the shooter one?”

  “No.” He laughed. “But they’re very similar to each other, so I can see how you’d get them confused.”

  “I risked people’s jobs to get you that game. I didn’t stand around gazing at it. I wrapped it fast.”

  “Really, really fast. Before you could see the big dragon on the front.”

  “Yep.”

  He laughed again and hit some buttons on his controller.

  This, I soon realized, was a racing game, only I didn’t have the option of a racecar. Rather I was to choose from a bunch of vehicles that looked like they were made to sell ice cream and hot dogs on the street, but before I could make my choice, Len grabbed my controller and selected a little round pink car that looked like something Minnie Mouse would drive.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He chose something that looked like a Hummer.

  “Oh please.”

  “Get ready,” he said.

  Our cars were parked on the starting line and the lights were flashing from red to yellow to green. The road ahead was straight out of a cartoon. It lifted up off the ground and did loopty loops in the distance. As soon as the lights were green and we gunned our cars, a menagerie of fanciful animals broke loose in our path, some running, some wandering, some standing in the road. It wasn’t easy to maneuver around them and I got taken out by a purple cow within seconds.

  Len laughed at me.

  I settled my grip on the controller, waited for my car to get put on the road again, and then I chased after him, swerving to avoid animals. Len, I saw, hit a button and jumped his car over them.

  Well, that would’ve been nice to know. I followed suit and jumped over a blue dragon as I tried to catch up with him.

  “Eat my dust,” he said.

  “Dream on.” I was in sight of his car when we did the first loopty loop. The landscape spun around crazily as I kept my car in the middle of the road. Then a canyon opened up in front of me and I hit the button to jump. “Ha!” I said. I was closing in on his car.

  “You won’t be able to pass me,” he said. He started to swerve back and forth.

  I aimed straight for his car and hit the accelerator. The two vehicles collided with a crash and a gratifying puff of smoke, out of which bounced wheels and pieces of the car bodies.

  “Hey!” he said. “What was that for?”

  “For giving me a stupid pink car.”

  “Oh come on. It’s the prettiest car.”

  “I want the Hummer.” I reached for his controller.

  “No way.” He held it out of my reach.

  “You scared of driving a pink car? You not secure enough in your manhood?”

  “What?” He spluttered a laugh.

  I made another grab for his controller and he stretched to keep it from me. His other arm went around my waist and I squirmed, assuming that was him trying to hold me back.

  He kissed me.

  I was so surprised that I dropped my controller. He dropped his and stroked my hair back from my cheek as he kissed me again. I shut my eyes, savoring the touch of his lips on mine. He leaned in for a third, but I pulled back. “If this is just you trying to win the game, you are the biggest jerk on the planet.”

  He laughed, but not as readily. “No,” he said. His hand was still on my cheek.

  I opened my eyes. “So, is this you just feeling confused, or is this me getting a second chance?” I had to have that answer before I’d surrender to another kiss.

  Those pale blue eyes of his searched mine. The seconds ticked by.

  He let out a sigh and leaned his forehead against mine. “I’m still not over you.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know.” He buried his face in my hair.

  “Well, decide, okay? Because I’m not over you and if you’re going to go back and forth, I can’t take it.” I tried to get out of his embrace.

  His arm tightened around me. “Please,” he said. “I’m sorry. I did this all wrong. Yeah I want to try things again. Of course I do.”

  I stopped struggling. “Really?”

  He nodded, his cheek brushing against mine. “I’m trying to believe that you’re not just desperate to date the nearest loser-”

  “You are not a loser.”

  His arm still held me tight, tight enough that I was starting to get a cramp in my side. “I love you,” I whispered.

  That made him relax. I settled myself more comfortably, stroked his hair and kissed the nape of his neck.

  He inhaled a jerky breath, like a sob.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I screwed up and I love you.” I settled him against me and breathed in the musky scent of his skin. His shorter hair felt scratchy against my cheek. “I’ve missed you so
much. You’ve got no idea.”

  Footsteps in the hallway let me know Chris had emerged again. I ignored them. He’d already seen me make a fool of myself trying to play a first person shooter, and that was infinitely worse than being seen holding the man I loved.

  But Len lifted his head. “Get lost,” he hollered.

  “Okay.” The footsteps retreated.

  “Sorry,” said Len.

  I just shrugged and leaned in to kiss him. He slipped his hand in mine and he kissed my lips, only this kiss wasn’t like his usual ones. It was deeper and went on far longer. When I broke it off to breathe, he moved on to my neck. “’Kay,” I said. “This could get compromising.”

  He paused, his warm breath tickling across my throat. “Really?” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

  “Um, yeah.”

  He let go of my hand and we just held each other.

  Things weren’t completely resolved with him on the drive home. He still glanced at me nervously, but I managed to catch his gaze and exchange a smile a couple of times. When he walked me to the door I took his hands in mine and stood on tiptoe for a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.

  “’Kay.”

  “Save me a seat?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”

  “And tell those other girls that if they don’t keep their distance, I will scratch their faces.”

  “Be nice.”

  “Sorry. I love you.” We kissed again and I went inside.

  Ten minutes later, as I was washing my face, I got a text from him. “I love you, too.” I slept with my phone under my pillow. It was like being eighteen all over again.

  The next morning in church, I walked up to the front row and sat down next to Len. This time I didn’t feel like I was eighteen all over again. I didn’t gaze at him adoringly or bait him to put his arm around me so that the whole chapel would see he was mine. Couples like that got on my nerves and his. Rather than sit down like we’d had our first date last night, which in a way we had, I sat down like his longtime girlfriend, taking her customary seat. I didn’t make eyes at him, just smiled and turned to dig out my scriptures. Nothing in my bearing dared other women to laugh at me, and wonder of wonders, no one did. No one even pointed. We got a lot of curious stares.

  Len leaned back in his seat and angled his body towards mine and I crossed my legs towards him. He had his smartphone in his hand and was tapping away at the screen with his fingertips, and I opened my scriptures and set them out on my knee.

  Occasionally I felt his gaze, like a warm hand laid against my skin. I’d look up and smile and watch his mouth twitch up at the corners in response. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable, but months of problems didn’t resolve in one evening. Over the course of the morning, I felt as much as saw him relax, notching down his stress like a rope being unwound a turn at a time.

  A week later, he was asleep on my couch again, snoring, as a movie started up on the DVD player. I switched off the movie, rolled him onto his side, and when the snoring didn’t stop, I tucked a blanket around his throat. That didn’t work either, so I just resolved to ignore it and read next week’s Sunday school lesson.

  Though it seemed like his snores were getting louder. I did my best to focus. A particularly loud snort made me look up, and I caught him watching me with one eye, which he shut fast, but not fast enough.

  Fine, I thought. Two could play this game. I got out my sketchbook and sketched my couch with a skinny hedgehog draped across it, its mouth open and eyes shut. Every time I sensed Len look at me, I turned further away.

  I had my back to him when the snoring abruptly stopped and he snatched the sketchbook from me. “Hey!” I said.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a hodgehog.”

  “How is that different from a hedgehog?”

  “I would think that’s obvious.”

  He cracked up. His random sense of humor hadn’t changed.

  “Give it,” I said.

  He gave me a kiss instead.

  Later in the week, he had to work late. I tried not to pester him on chat too much, but it was so gratifying to type something and get a response immediately. I distracted myself with another doodle, this one of the hodgehog seated at a computer with a pencil behind its ear. For a background I drew an underground burrow that was a total wreck. The garbage can was overflowing with crumpled papers. There were dirty dishes on the desk and the floor. The hodgehog also had a half eaten burrito at its elbow. Once I’d finished off the shading, I scanned it and emailed it.

  Hodgehog: Lol, what is this?

  Edunmar: The hodgehog in its natural habitat.

  Hodgehog: You think I’m a real slob, don’t you?

  Edunmar: Okay, hang on.

  I got out another sheet of paper and sketched a female skinny hedgehog, sitting on the floor in a pile of papers, paint smudges all over her face and hands. The studio around her was packed with art supplies that looked like they’d collapse on her at any moment. I scanned that one and sent it.

  Hodgehog: Cute.

  Edunmar: The only way I keep my house clean is by not spending time in the rest of it.

  Hodgehog: Your kitchen is clean.

  Edunmar: And your console games are neatly organized.

  Hodgehog: Touche- k, sorry need to go into the other room. Back in a few.

  I felt lame, pestering him nonstop, but I couldn’t peel myself away. I sketched another picture of the skinny girl hedgehog in front of her computer, her chin in her hands, pining. I set that aside, no point sending that one.

  Hodgehog: All right.

  Edunmar: What?

  Hodgehog: I’ve got a comp day on Friday. You free?

  Edunmar: Yes.

  Hodgehog: You sure? Don’t let me take up your work time.

  I still hadn’t told him about my inheritance and how I didn’t really have to work anymore.

  Edunmar: It’s fine.

  Hodgehog: Okay, I need to go work in one of the other offices. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.

  Edunmar: Love you too.

  Five minutes later I sent him the cartoon of the pining hedgehog.

  “So,” said Len on Friday as he lounged on his couch, “guys in my office are looking up hedgehog comics online.”

  I was sitting on the floor, sketching a picture of the hodgehog with legions of female hedgehogs making eyes at him at church - in an underground burrow of course. I looked up. “Why?”

  “Because they don’t believe me when I say the pictures on the wall are by my girlfriend.”

  “You have them on your wall?”

  “Yeah, of course I do.”

  My face flushed hot. “They must think I’m a stalker or something.” I looked down at the sketch I was doing.

  “No, they don’t believe that you just do that, with pen and pencil. Or that someone that talented would be giving me free art.”

  I shaded in the back of the burrow. “I can do real art. I mean, if you ever want a painting or anything.”

  “That is real art. I already have a couple of your prints. I just haven’t put them up because I’m a sloppy hodgehog.”

  “Don’t buy those. I can give them to you for free.”

  He shook his head. “Of course I bought them. Don’t be stupid.”

  I tore the finished sketch out of my sketchbook and handed it to him. “Sorry, I should move on to another theme, shouldn’t I?”

  “I assumed you were being ironic.”

  “No. I guess this is just how I deal with life, by drawing stuff. Obsessively.”

  Len slid off the couch to sit next to me on the floor. He traced my cheekbone with his thumb. “Works for me.”

  I turned to a clean page and began to draw two skinny hedgehogs flying a kite. Once Len caught on to what it was, he laughed. “Worst. Date. Ever.”

  “I dunno. It was kinda funny.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought, but I got the impression you felt differently.” He
smirked at me.

  I drew a crooked, ugly smiley face on the kite.

  He cracked up.

  A couple of weeks later as we walked back to his house after a matinee, he handed me a folded up piece of paper. I gave him a questioning look and unfolded it. It was a drawing of two stick figures, one on bended knee in front of the other. “This what I think it is?” I asked.

  “So, I do have reservations at the steakhouse tonight, but yeah. I was afraid I’d lose my nerve.”

  “Really? You’re really asking me?”

  “I am, yeah. The ring’s at my house.”

  “Really?!”

  He stopped walking. “Yeah. Is that a yes?”

  “Yes!”

  “It’s not a great ring. Just a cheap one until you pick out one you like better. I put money aside for a real one... okay, now what’s wrong?”

  I’d winced. “I kind of forgot to tell you something.”

  “What’s that?”

  I took the picture and drew a dollar bill in my stick figure’s hand. On it I wrote the amount of my inheritance and handed the picture back to him.

  He blanched. “What?”

  “I kind of inherited some money.”

  “This a joke?”

  “No.”

  “Oh...”

  “I love you.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah. You can get that new Xbox you’ve been wanting.” I took the paper back from him, folded it, and stuck it in my shirt. “I’m keeping this.”

  He didn’t even protest or try to take it back, just looked shell-shocked all the way home.

  “Hello?” I answered my cellphone as Carrie loaded my dress into the car and my dad pulled out an envelope with my temple recommend and live ordinance recommend in it.

  “Hello, is this Eliza Dunmar?”

  “Yes.” For the next two hours, I added in my mind.