Paint My Body Red

by Heidi R. Kling

  “I meant for even longer. Maybe even for the school year?”

  Across the table, Jake’s eyes widen.

  I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Summer, yes. But you have college.

  “Yes, but I want to stay here with you.”

  We can discuss it again at the end of the summer, but for now, let’s keep your plan on track. You’re my little girl, Paigey. It’s easy to get sidetracked by things, and I want you to stay on track.

  On track.

  The irony of his use of “track” is not lost on me, though there’s no way he intends it. I’m not ready to enter normal society again. The thought of school, classes, strangers, chills me to the bone. But I can tell by Dad’s words that I need to listen to him now. I can bring it up again later. For now, at least I have a few more weeks. I have Scout, I have Jake, I have the ranch. For now I am safe.

  How’s your training with Scout going?

  “Good. She’s such a rascal.”

  Like her rider. 

  I laugh. He continues typing in his way.

  Do you remember the time you entered the rodeo as a little girl? You were supposed to tie up the calf’s legs and you couldn’t do it. You kept untying them. You were maybe 6 or 7.

  “Oh, God,” I groan. “I completely forgot about that. On purpose.”

  You had a big heart then. You have a big heart now. The people with the biggest hearts hurt the most when bad things happen. But guess what?

  “What?”

  When those broken hearts heal, they heal stronger than ever.

  I don’t reply. Not with words anyway. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, nuzzling into his sallow cheek, his day-old scruff. When I look up, Jake is smiling at me. He has no idea what Dad typed to me but it doesn’t matter. I let myself feel hope in the moment.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Then

  I liked to pretend, for a variety of reasons, that my mother didn’t know. That she never found out about Ty and me. But that was a lie.

  They’d be home late. That’s what they said, anyway.

  Early into things between me and him, we were watching movies in the den—an eighties movie marathon—old raunchy classics like Risky Business and Porky’s. Ty was appalled I hadn’t seen them. Apparently, as a latchkey kid, he watched whatever he wanted while he waited for his parents to get home from work. After we moved to California, Mom made sure I was always in activities: I was proficient in ice-skating, French, water polo. I competed on the swim team, gymnastics…you name it.

  “OMG, gross,” I said, watching between cracked fingers as a guy shoved his penis through a hole in the girls’ locker room.

  “You gotta watch! Check out the size of that thing!” Ty cackled, tossing a pillow at the TV. “They just don’t make movies like they used to. This would get an NC-17 for sure now.”

  “Fifty Shades of Porky’s?” I suggested wryly.

  “Exactly.” He plops next to me on the couch, throws his arm around me. “Let’s get that and watch it together.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Hardly. Maybe we can make it a family activity: you, me, Phil, and Carol.”

  “God, you are a sick beast.”

  “I know. And you love it.”

  We started making out, because that’s what we did then.

  Ty liked to watch all his movies on surround sound full volume on our enormous big screen TV. Needless to say, we didn’t hear the door open or the stilettos clacking into the room until it was too late.

  “What in the world are you two…?” Mom’s voice dropped off as she saw, clearly, what we were doing, and it wasn’t watching TV.

  I pulled back, pushing him away, diving to the opposite side on the couch and focusing on the TV—a couple making out in a steam room—like it was the most enthralling thing in the world.

  “Do we need to get a nanny for you kids?” Mom’s voice lilted like she was joking, but I could feel the ice in it and it chilled me to the bone.

  “No, ma’am,” Ty said, saluting her. “We have everything under control. Sorry I’m exposing Paige to eighties pornography, however. We’ll change the channel to something more age appropriate.” He pointed the remote at the TV and switched it to the BBC news where we watched a foreign country killing citizens of another foreign country. I counted the casualties.

  “Garbage going in, garbage coming out,” she said pointedly.

  “Yes,” Ty agreed. “From here on out, we’re going to aim for compost.”

  She laughed sharply. Her faux Nothing-Is-Funny-About-This laugh rivals most women’s screams. I’d rather she just yell. Ground us. Threaten…something.

  “This is why I read all my news online. Would you mind turning that off please, Tyler?”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.” The salute again. How was Ty unfazed by this? Wasn’t he worried my mom would tell his dad and our home would turn into a prison camp of no electronics, home right after school, and worse, us being separated for life?

  “Paige?”

  I didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

  “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

  I turned around and looked at her. As soon as her eyes caught mine, they narrowed. Her nostrils flared. Oh, she was pissed all right. She just didn’t want to let us see her faux fur flustered.

  I stood halfway up expecting, “Follow me into my bedroom, we’re going to have a little chat,” but instead, she said, “Don’t stay up too late.”

  I sank back onto the couch, confused and maybe, though it sounds weird, a little disappointed. This was okay with her? I was making out with my stepbrother, her stepson, her husband’s son, on their living room couch.

  “Okay.”

  Ty switched the channel to A Few Good Men, the nineties movie starring Tom Cruise as a softball tossing lawyer who gets Jack Nicholson to confess a major secret.

  “You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!” Ty blurted out in his best Jack Nicolson impression. He looked at us over his shoulder, an innocent expression on his face. “What, too soon?”

  Behind me, I felt Mom flinch. I could practically read her mind. Would it be worth it to confront them? To open this enormous can of worms, and get Phil involved? It would complicate things to the point of Nothing Being Perfect Anymore. The suicides were bad enough. Our years of being single, just the two of us while she worked her way up in a male-dominated world (her words) dating CEOs and VCs and finally settling down with her sweet Phil. Phil, who she golfed with, who she introduced on her arm at charity functions. Phil, who was positive and light and her best friend (again, her words). She wasn’t going to risk losing Phil—even if it meant helping me out of a serious mistake.

  Ignoring Ty’s jab, she said instead, “I’ve always loved this movie. Demi Moore looks great with a bob cut.”

  “Right?” Ty said. “Want to watch with us?”

  “No thanks, Tyler. Your father has a headache. That’s why we came home from the event early.” She looked at me pointedly. “I think I’ll call it an evening, too. Goodnight, kids.”

  “Goodnight, Carol,” Ty said in a singsong voice. How did he know? How did he know she wouldn’t confront us? He was always flirting with the edge of disaster, that’s how he lived. That’s what he loved. I didn’t. I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to our shared bathroom before I threw up.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Now

  Whether the sun is pushing up into the world or slipping over the mountains for the night, training with Scout and Jake is the best part of my day.

  Dad and Anna watch our last training session before rodeo from the porch; Jake’s animated gestures, Scout’s neck beading with sweat as she responds to the commands my voice and thighs make. Like always, small successes and little failures define our practice: Jake catching my eye before pointing out an eagle’s winged shadow in the dirt as he chews on straw under pinking blue skies, Anna’s hand resting on Dad’s leg. She’s smiling and I’m gues
sing he is on the inside though I can’t read it on his mouth.

  I’m in the moment appreciating every single heartbeat, because this is it. This is where all the clichés like Carpe Diem and YOLO (You Only Live Once) spring from, and I get it and it’s real and I’m fighting tooth and nail to keep it, though in the back of my head, that gnawing guilt never stops trying to fight its way back in. I almost think I can tell Jake the full truth, tell Anna, tell my dad—and they’ll love me anyway. They’ll still want me to stay.

  Staying here would be hiding, though—hiding from my past, hiding from my mistakes, mostly hiding from the truth—and I don’t feel right staying if I’m a lie. I can’t stay if they don’t know the whole truth. They don’t. And they need to.

  “You look great up there,” Jake says after we go over our routine. The music blasting from his little speaker set up on the corral rail winds down to its final, beautiful end notes, and it’s all so dramatic and inspiring and hopeful I almost think I can do it.

  “You think?” I ask.

  He nods appreciatively. “I do.”

  He means it. Jake doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.

  “And Scout’s ready,” he says, patting her moist neck. “You were right about her. You two make quite a team.”

  I’m going to do it. After rodeo I’m going to tell him the truth. I swallow away that last bit of doubt, swing my leg over Scout’s back, and jump down into Jake’s arms. He gives me a little spin before I slide down the length of his body and give him a little kiss on the cheek on my way to touching the dirt.

  “What was that for?” He cocks his head, happily surprised.

  “This.” I hug him tight. “No matter what happens in the show,” I whisper into his neck, “thanks, Jake.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, you know.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I really do.”

  Two days later I’m dressed again in the crazy silver bodysuit tucked into silver spangled cowgirl boots.

  My recently manicured nails now have American Flag decals (true story) and I have on more makeup than a Miss America contestant. My hair’s been blown out and curled. I have more foundation on my face than I did at my freshman musical, bright red lipstick, and so much mascara I can barely keep my eyes open.

  I don’t recognize myself in the mirror, which I’m okay with. In my head, I go over and over my routine. In my heart, I go over and over what I’m going to say to Jake. How I’m going to tell him about Ty, about everything. It makes the rodeo far easier in comparison. As far as the competition goes, I’m performing a role and I’m out to win a prize. But the personal stuff between Jake and me is all me. It’s all hard truth and blind faith.

  But first, I have to survive the rodeo.

  When Jake walks through the door, letting in a bit of sun to the shadowed hallway, he lets out a low whistle, stopping short when he sees me.

  I tug on the bottom of my blazer, embarrassed. “Weird, right?”

  With slow, roaming eyes, he checks out my whole situation with a deep appreciation. “I wouldn’t say weird.”

  A flush crawls up my chest. Closing the distance between us, I slug him in the shoulder.

  His eyebrows raise, a smile plays on his lips. “What was that for? You round the corner dressed like that expecting no reaction?”

  “I don’t know,” I mutter. “I forget you’re into this whole cowgirl thing.”

  He nods. “You can say that, yes.”

  “Oh my God, let’s just get this over with. I’m going to need to borrow paint thinner from your toolbox to scrape this makeup off later.”

  Grinning, he springs one of my curls born from Anna’s curlers. “Cute.”

  Groaning not entirely unhappily, I grab his hand and pull him toward the van where Dad and Anna are waiting. He pushes the front door closed, though, blocking my exit, keeping us in the dark hallway. It reminds me of Ty in my doorway and I’m suddenly scared, but Jake is looking at me like he both wants and admires me.

  I know Jake would never hurt me.

  “I forgot to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t undo your hard work out there.”

  I laugh, suddenly at ease. “The untying the calves thing? Did you remember, or did Dad remind you?”

  “Remind me? How could I forget? That’s a Mason Family Legend.”

  “Ugh, how embarrassing.”

  “Nah. It was cute as hell.” He squeezes my forearm affectionately. “Out there today, though, don’t let your emotions take over. The crowds, the other competitors, don’t let them distract you. It’s just you and Scout out there, okay?”

  I nod. “Okay.” And later it will be just you and me, Jake. I don’t want to screw that up either. I can’t screw us up.

  “Break a leg, Cowgirl.”

  He kisses me square on the lips, leaving my eyes blinking and my heart racing as he opens the door and slips into the sun.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Jake is right about the crowd. It’s intimidating to say the least. I think about the Xanax I stuffed in my pocket in case of emergency and wonder if I’ll need it. I almost threw the bottle out a couple times. I never wanted it at home, but I’d use it if I had to.

  I hug Anna and kiss Dad on his cheek and get even more nervous when they wish me good luck, knowing what this win could mean for them, for the ranch, for our medical debt. Jake escorts me to this back area where the competitors wait. The majority of cowboys are sitting on long wooden benches, spitting into cans. A few are pacing on the dirt, spinning their ropes around in the air. The boys are generally quiet, in that way boys get when they are nervous.

  “You okay?” Jake asks me as we find a corner to stand in.

  “Yeah.”

  But I’m not.

  This leather jacket feels like Dolly Parton’s version of a straight jacket. The pants are riding up my butt, making me feel all twitchy. Suddenly, the bottom of my foot itches.

  “Take your boot off and scratch it, then,” Jake says.

  “Here?”

  A gaggle of girls in sequins and $300 cowgirl hats walk by and flash me one of those Mean Girl glares under their heavily made up eyelashes.

  “Where else?”

  “It’s fine.” A flush crawls up the back of my neck. I don’t want to appear anything less than professional in front of these locals.

  “Come on, you don’t want to have itchy feet riding Scout. She’ll cue into that and get all itchy hooved and then it will all go to hell.”

  I shake my head but can’t help smiling by Jake’s oblivious confidence. “Okay.”

  Jake, in his speedy take-charge way, identifies a plastic chair, grins at some ladies who are using it for a place to stack their bags, and after a quick tip of the hat, carries it over his head, sets it down next to me, and extends a hand for me to sit. I do. Then he squats down in front of me…and slips off my boot.

  Cradling my foot in his hand, he lightly scratches the bottom then rubs his thumb down the center. I don’t even bother containing my sigh, but I am grateful for this long-sleeved costume covering my goose bumps.

  “Jake.” Fires burn my cheeks, but my smile erupts, too.

  “What? Can’t have you all stressed out there, can we?”

  We.

  He rubs. The Mean Cowgirls glance over and glare.

  I notice. Jake notices me noticing.

  “Don’t mind them.”

  Frowning, I bend over and slip my foot back into the boot.

  “Who are they?”

  He shrugs. “Just girls.”

  “Do you know them or something?”

  He shrugs again. “This town has a few thousand year-round locals. I’ve lived here my whole life.”

  “You know them, then.”

  He stands back up, stretching his whole body in the process. “Don’t mind them, Paige. They’re just staring because it’s rare to see someone new in this town, someone not a tourist. Especially someone that stands out.”


  “I stand out, do I?”

  He grins, his eyes full of meaning. “Yes, you most certainly do.”

  I play with the fringes on my pants. “This outfit is 100% Anna’s fault.”

  “I don’t mean the outfit. You look great. It’s just that you’re back from the city, and a lot of these guys and gals dream of going to California. They think of it like the shows they watch on TV—you know, all the bikinis and fast cars? They think you’re that girl and now you’re coming here to maybe take away their prizes and maybe even…”

  “Their cowboys?” I say, and then immediately wish I could take it back, but Jake is grinning ear-to-ear.

  “Maybe even their cowboys, yes. So expect a stink eye or two, but don’t let it bother you in the least.”

  “I’ll try my best to ignore them.”

  “Good. Remember most of them are here to cut horses. That’s the traditional rodeo sport for girls, and, of course, they’ve all heard of this style Stacey Westfall mastered, but no one thus far has been willing to try it in rodeo here.”

  “I certainly don’t want to step on any toes.”

  “You aren’t. Come on, let’s go.”

  Jake takes my hand and pulls me over to the snack table where I grab a bagel and a cup of decaf coffee and spend the rest of my wait watching cowboys and cowgirls do their best to wrangle bulls and horses and velveteen calves to the thundering applause of a wild crowd, ear-blistering country music, and an MC so loud they can probably hear him in Palo Alto. I’m so nervous, the plain bagel tastes like sawdust. The coffee is cool and bitter, and my foot is tapping so fast on the dirty floor, Jake grabs my thigh to stop it.

  “Here we go,” he says, and sure enough, it’s my turn. “You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and over his shoulder the group of rodeo girls glares even harder. I avoid their eyes. We cross the room and enter the tunnel linking the waiting room to the open stadium where Scout is waiting for me. She looks as nervous as I do, her hooves pound into the dirt, anxiously. Jake has her by her rope and she sort of whinnies up at him. “It’s okay, girl.” I stroke Scout’s neck to calm her. “It’ll be quick and easy. Just do what we do back at the ranch.” I keep talking to her in a calm, soothing tone as the announcer continues.