The Color of Us

by Jessica Park

  It takes way more than a moment for me to remember him, which sucks because it’s impossible not to check this guy out. I look him up and down. Well … damn. As my eyes adjust to the dark and the beam of his truck’s headlights and as he moves closer, I start to see insanely ripped arms, short reddish-brown hair that peeks out from under his baseball hat, and a flirty smile that could knock anyone to the ground.

  I drop the CD that I’m clenching.

  “Schroeder?” My voice sounds unnatural and breathy, and I’m mortified.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tips his hat back and winks.

  “Danny Schroeder.” I can’t help but smile as flashes of my former life hit me.

  He’s the boy I remembered during my night with Marlana. Probably, I acknowledge, part of the impetus that brought me back here.

  Before I can get too nostalgic, I panic with embarrassment. Shit. “I didn’t rent that BMW. It was my mom’s doing,” I blurt out. “I wouldn’t have chosen such a stupid car.”

  “No worries. Want a beer?”

  He gestures behind him and backs up a long way, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his walk sultry but in a shockingly nonintentional way. He lacks the LA strut that I’m used to. Danny clearly doesn’t mean to be as sexy as he is, which makes him all the more attractive. So, of course, I follow. When he opens the flatbed to his truck, revealing a cooler, and then hops and sits, patting the spot next to him, I follow. He reaches behind him and delivers us each a beer.

  “Welcome home, girl.”

  It might not be possible to chug as fast as I want to, but I give it a go.

  Danny stares at me as I drink. “Okay. Well, hello.”

  “Yeah, hello.” I wipe my mouth. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Since you’ve chugged a beer?”

  I laugh. “Since we’ve seen each other. Since I’ve been here.”

  “Us? And home? Yeah, it has.” He grabs another from the cooler and hands it to me, as though he read my mind.

  “So, what are you doing here?” I ask. “In the middle of the night?”

  “Curious.” Danny inhales his beer as I did and opens another. “I figured with the time change, you might be up. And I was right.” He clinks his drink against mine. “You and I grew up together. And then you disappeared. And now, you’re back. So, curious.” That damn wink again.

  “Yeah, not that disappearing was my choice,” I say with a laugh.

  There’s silence between us for a long moment until he says softly, “I gathered it wasn’t.”

  “Dead father leads to middle-of-the night runaway type thing. Followed by forget your past fun.”

  “I’ve only heard bits about that.” Danny looks down. “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”

  There’s a howl behind us that makes me jump, but Danny rolls his eyes. “Shallots! Come here!”

  Before I can wonder who or what a Shallots is, I look back and see a basset hound peering out of the front cab of Danny’s truck.

  “Come on out, silly,” Danny says with encouragement. “He doesn’t like to jump from the truck, but he can.”

  When a dog with his slow but very enthusiastic trot finally reaches us, I can’t help but meet him on the ground. I begin making stupid squealing sounds as I rub his stomach and kiss him on the nose. Shallots is a damn loveable dog, and it’s about two seconds before I’m smitten.

  “Really?” I ask. “You didn’t pull him out first as a past-midnight lure?”

  “I wasn’t enough of one?” he asks teasingly.

  Okay, dammit. Fair point.

  I give him a smile and a maybe shrug. “Yeah, you’re all right. For a gross boy.”

  I play around with Shallots for a time while we make incredibly small, small talk.

  When he senses that I’m relaxing a bit, Danny hops from his truck and scratches Shallots’s ears before he grabs a fresh, cold six-pack from his cooler. “So, what was Los Angeles like? Pretty different from Wake, I’d imagine.” He cocks his head toward the lake and starts to walk.

  “Oh, ever so slightly,” I say with a laugh. “This is probably a hugely unpopular answer, but I didn’t exactly worship LA. I mean, it’s a great city; it’s just not my city, you know?”

  “How so?”

  “Too glitzy. Too busy and too loud for me. Too much pressure to keep up appearances. To look perfect, be perfect, and be on all the time. I learned to hate leaving my house because I was scared to not be wearing some supposed right outfit. It’s a lot of beautiful girls wearing nerdy glasses and pretending that they aren’t as hot as they are.” I laugh. “A friend’s fake spidery eyelashes nearly scratched my cornea once when I hugged her. I quit that shit pretty fast.

  “After we moved there, my sister and my mom became… I don’t know … obsessed with everything I’m not. Stuff that felt meaningless.”

  There’s now one less beer in Danny’s six-pack, and I take in half before I continue, “Mom and Erica are thriving though, in their own ways. LA turned them into superficial—but very happy—drones.”

  “Like how?”

  “My mom is a workaholic, engulfed in the real estate market.” I wave behind me. “Truly, I’m not sure how she lived in this house.

  I mean, rustic would be generous. I haven’t seen her love anything less than insanely modern and high-end years. But apparently, she liked this house back in the day.” I pause. “Maybe she liked her old life. Who knows? Pretty sure she’d devolve into some sort of hysteria if she had to move back.”

  Danny’s dimples are too cute when he smiles. “And your sister?”

  “Erica. She’s a makeup-industry blogger and shit. A so-called social media influencer. A fan of the spider eyelashes. It’s creepy.”

  His confused frown is perfect. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds kinda weird.”

  “That’s a smart reaction.”

  Danny laughs and takes a drink. “But you must still be close, right?”

  “Not so much.” Then, I give him the real truth. “No, not at all. We haven’t had much of a relationship in years.”

  “Why is that? I mean, you sound very different from each other, but is that all?”

  “I don’t know. She changed when we moved and had to grow up in LA. She grabbed on to shit that I couldn’t relate to. Found friends and interests that pulled us apart.” I think for a minute. “She withdrew from so much.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Drowned in other things. Focused on anything without meaning. The way my mom did.”

  After I warn him about watching his step as we keep walking, we settle next to each other at the end of my dock and both instinctively strip off our shoes and socks.

  I can’t help but smile. My dock. At least for the time being.

  Shallots waddles up, and we both automatically move a bit when he wedges his way between us before collapsing against Danny and launching into loud snoring.

  “So, you think there is nothing left of the Erica you used to love?” he wonders.

  “What? I didn’t say that.”

  Although he’s right to ask because I have talked about her as though the sister I knew is totally gone.

  He shrugs and drinks. “At least you have a sibling. Might be worth trying to salvage that. Not everyone gets a family. I’d kill to have that kind of shared history with someone.”

  He’s got a point.

  “So, LA apparently turned your mom and sister into beasts. What did that city turn you into?” Danny scratches his arm and looks out over the water.

  The air here is so fresh, so clean. The quiet so beautifully consuming. Those things contribute to making my truthful reply more painful. “Nobody. It turned me into nobody.” There is a part of my heart that nearly audibly breaks.

  “That can’t be true,” Danny says softly. “There’s no way that the girl I knew turned into nobody.” His face is too kind and too understanding. But he cannot possibly know who he’s dealing with.

 
“Barely got through high school. Flunked out of community college. Worked at a stupid paint store. Got fired.” It’s embarrassing how tears threaten to form, yet I force a smile. “You know, the usual. The only reason I’m here is by default. I have the time and no job to worry about.” I drop my legs into the freezing water. “Shit, that’s cold!” I say with a laugh. “So, I’m a free agent! Approving house repairs and paying bills are about all I’m qualified to do, so … ta-da!”

  For the next few minutes, I focus on scanning the late-night view, the glimpse of a floating dock many yards out, the houses that overlook the lake with lights still on, the slight glow that the moon lets touch the lake.

  “So, no college for you either?” I finally ask.

  “Hell no,” Danny answers with conviction.

  “Disappointed parents?”

  “Nope. Barely parents at all.”

  The huge swig that he takes makes me back off from asking more, and we sit together without speaking for a few minutes. Then, Danny sinks his feet into the icy water beside mine. He turns his head to shoot me a look for a fraction of a second before he furiously kicks his legs and splashes me until I’m soaked and squealing with laughter.

  It’s when he’s sweetly brushing my wet hair from my face and the pause between us grows too long that I whisper, “I’ve got Paul’s number from my mother, and I called him and left a message. Do you know him?”

  “Very well.” Danny wipes away lake water and then adjusts my sopping shirt that’s hanging awkwardly off my shoulder. “I work for him. Have for years.”

  “Yeah?” It’s a miracle that I haven’t melted into a puddle, but here I am. “What do you do? For Paul? Workwise and such. Floors? Do you do floors? I might need those. And kitchen … stuff. Maybe stairs. Windows. The fireplace seems to be shit.” I am equally horrified and impressed with my boy-affected stammering.

  “Oh, Paul is great. Don’t worry. And I can do whatever you need.” His flirty smile is appreciated. “Renovating kitchens. Painting. Redoing miserable, unsafe docks. All of that.” He shrugs. “I love it all.”

  I might love it all too. “Okay. Well, according to my mother, he’s my contact person. I’m supposed to talk to him, see what needs to be done to sell this house, and get outta here.”

  Danny clinks his beer against mine. “You’re in good hands.”

  Later, after more playful splashing, I reluctantly walk him to his truck and help short-legged Shallots into the passenger seat. “Hey, Schroeder? Do you know why the general store doesn’t sell eggs? Am I missing something?”

  The look and laugh he gives me are too cute, and he explains with affection, “I do know. My friend Mary Ann? Her family has a farm up the road, and Wake has sort of thrown them all of our egg business. They’ve got, like, a million chickens. I’ll take you tomorrow if you want. Ten-ish or so?”

  I nod and hand him my phone, watching intently as he types in his number.

  “Cool.” Danny reaches out and touches my arm for a split second. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  As he starts up his truck, Danny leans out of the window. “Callie? Glad to have you back in Wake. We’ve missed you.”

  He takes off before I can reply, but maybe that’s for the best. I don’t know what I’d have said.

  But I have an egg date. And I might like to have an egg date a thousand times over.

  ten

  While I wait outside for Danny to pick me up the next morning, I realize that it’s unusual that I didn’t struggle over my outfit. Nor did I think about it much. And now, I’m feeling like an asshole for wearing boring jeans and a white T-shirt and not even doing my hair. The messy bun I made without thinking feels unfamiliar, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. At least Shallots clearly doesn’t care because he bounds out of the truck the second that Danny’s truck reaches a full stop.

  As I rub giant basset hound ears and laugh, Danny steps from his truck. I glance up. Only enough to see his work boots leaving tracks in the gravel but my heart pounds at an embarrassing speed. So, I stay focused on the dog, Danny notices my outfit too.

  “You’re not wearing full Los Angeles gear?” he asks playfully.

  It’s a full twenty more seconds of fussing over Shallots before I can look at him. At least I know I chose right when I got dressed. “I thought about it, and while I wanted to wear Chanel ankle boots, these seem to make more sense.” I stand and kick up a foot to show him my sensible sneakers. These are about the only sensible part of me right now.

  The hints of hazel in his brown eyes catch sunlight as he laughs. “Good girl. Let’s go!”

  As soon as I open the side door, Shallots attempts to climb in, but his short legs don’t lend themselves to a smooth transition.

  “Do you mind giving him a boost?” Danny asks.

  “No problem.” I help the dog into the truck, and he settles into the passenger seat, leaving me to wonder where I should sit.

  “Sorry!” Danny pats the middle seat and tries to coax his buddy over. “He likes that spot. Hanging his head out of an open window is sort of his thing. Give him a little nudge.”

  “Gotcha.”

  That doesn’t work as Shallots is clearly not keen on sliding into the middle, but he does eventually let me scoop him into my lap while I take the passenger seat. For a small-looking dog, he weighs more than I would think, but I don’t mind the snuggly lump in my lap. I roll down the window, and immediately, he sticks his head out.

  Danny cocks his head in surprise. “Well, that’s new. Not a dog who usually loves up to someone he’s just me. He clearly likes you.”

  The truck revs away from the house, and I cannot help but giggle when we pick up a bit of speed and the dog’s ears flap in the wind.

  “Do you ever worry that he’ll, you know, take off? Start flying away?”

  “It has occurred to me. Shallots in the Sky sounds like a movie title, right?” He waves a hand. “But I think he knows that I’d miss him too much, so he restrains himself.”

  We bounce over winding dirt roads, and the feel of driving in this terrain is slowly coming back to me. The way it rips through my body so wonderfully. I hide my smile.

  “Did you have Shallots when I lived here? Is he a family dog?”

  “Nah. I rescued him from a shelter a few years ago.”

  “Sorry. I’ve forgotten so much. About Wake, my life here …”

  Shallots gives me an excuse to not look at Danny, so I fuss over the pup for a bit.

  “Did I know your parents? Are they still here? Do you live at home? I mean, not that it would be a bad thing,” I stammer. “Obviously, I live at home, so no judgment.” My coolness is overwhelming.

  Danny lifts his baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. “My dad was never part of the picture, and I don’t even know who he is. I don’t think my mom even knows who he is. Which is disturbing but whatever. I guess I haven’t thought about him much because he’s never been in my life.” His feigned laugh is not lost on me. “But I don’t mind because my mom is cool as hell. She’s an artist. Mostly glassblowing work but some painting and other stuff on the side. Her work has been in such high demand, and it’s crazy. Teaching requests, magazine shoots and interviews, an invitation to a reality show even. It’s been nuts, but I’m so proud of her.”

  “I’m not sure that I ever realized you didn’t have a father around. I guess as kids, we didn’t even question stuff like that. I’m sorry though. That can’t be easy. But your mom sounds awesome.”

  However, now that I’m thinking about it, I can’t think of any time that I’ve seen or met Danny’s mother. Scrambling to remember her is scrambling my brain. As far as I can recall, Danny was always at birthday parties and school events by himself, but I might be forgetting a ton again.

  “My mom has been in and out of town forever,” he continues. “Traveling for gallery showings and stuff. It’s always been like that. So, yeah, she isn’t always there for stuff, b
ut I get it.”

  “Glassblowing though, huh? That’s pretty obscure but so unique.” It takes me a second, but I remember something. “Oh, I went on a tour years ago! I’ve seen this. It’s, like, when an artist takes globs of molten glass at the end of a long pipe, blows into that lava stuff, and creates glass creations. Vases, bowls, glasses, sculptures.”

  “That’s her!”

  Suddenly, the truck bounces up and down, and I grab on to Shallots.

  Danny laughs. “Sorry. A ditch that hasn’t been filled.”

  A moment later, he turns into a driveway and parks. “Favorite color?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  He swings an arm behind my seat and looks at me too sweetly and too intently. “I want to know if you have a favorite color.”

  I stare at him blankly. It’s as if I were in fourth grade. This feels like a damn stupid question, but he cocks his head a smidgen.

  “C’mon,” he presses.

  It’s hard not to melt into his inviting look. But I tell the boring truth. “Black. White.” I try not to cringe. “Gray.”

  “That’s exciting.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m … fine.” Shallots digs his paws into my lap as he adjusts his spot. “I’m the color of nobody. What’s your favorite color?”

  Danny doesn’t hesitate. “Cerulean.”

  “That’s not a color. Or an actual word.”

  Danny laughs. “It’s both.”

  “Sounds like part of some cellular makeup that I had to identify in my high school biology class.”

  “I promise you that I’m right about this. It’s a blue.”

  “I could swear that I saw cerulean on a flash card during my sophomore year, but I’ll accept your definition.”

  “It might sound like an SAT word—I get it. But color words are sexy,” he says.

  Because he’s so damn animated and cute and I’m too comfortable with this boy who I both know and don’t know, I only hear part of what he’s saying. Stuff about some pigment being discovered by a chemist, the history of this apparently life-changing blue, and how the discovery of cerulean blue helped painters create more realistic skies.