The Color of Us

by Jessica Park

  “Well, fuck, I can’t say no now, can I?”

  “You really can’t, my friend.”

  “I might have to duct tape various body parts into place, but I’m on board.”

  “Danny!” She raises her hands up and rushes ahead to give her bestie a huge hug as he finds his way to us. “We killed it today. You?”

  “It was great. People seemed really happy.”

  “Have you seen Slowski? I’ve been too swamped all day to talk to him.”

  “Yeah, I think he’s by the fried pickle stand now.”

  She claps her hands. “Yeah, baby! I knew I liked him for a reason. Mama’s off to get herself some big ol’ pickle, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ew,” he groans. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Go! Besides, I haven’t seen my girl all day.”

  Mary Ann looks my way. “I love that she’s your girl, by the way. Sooo love it. Till tomorrow, my loves!”

  When she’s taken off, Danny stands and eyes me for a bit. “I missed you today. Is that weird? It hasn’t even been that long, but I missed you.”

  “I’m not sure how you had time to, but I like it. I saw how hard you were working.”

  “I can do two things at once.”

  “Yeah, I do know that,” I say with a smile.

  He winks and brings me in against his chest. Christ, his muscular, hard chest that I am already dying to see again.

  “I’m going to clean up my booth and grab something to eat, but I’ll be home soon, okay?” He tenses. “Okay, I didn’t mean home. Sorry. Your house. I’ll be back at your house soon. If that’s okay.”

  I laugh. “Being back soon is very okay.”

  I don’t say it, but I really like that he initially and so naturally said “home.”

  My phone rings, and Danny laughs. “Is that ‘The Imperial March’ I hear? Who is cursed with that ringtone?”

  “My mother,” I admit. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, so I should probably take this. But I’ll see you soon.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  When I answer her call on my way to the Pathfinder, I’m more upbeat than usual when I hear from her because of the pictures I sent her. Maybe we’ll have something positive to chat about this time.

  “Hi, Mom!”

  “Hi, Callie. How are you? How are things going?”

  “Really well! You got the pics of the house?”

  “I did.” She hesitates. “I’m just not sure about what’s happening there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The picture of the bathroom that you sent. It’s a lot.”

  I unlock the door and start the engine. “How so?”

  “Normally, when a house is prepped for resale, it’s all about neutral finishes. Things that speak to the masses. That wallpaper, toilet, and tile you chose for the bathroom? That’s for a specific buyer, so I’m a concerned.”

  I drive off the fairgrounds. “Maybe there is a specific buyer. Maybe this house is meant for someone.”

  “It’s a house in a small town. It’s best to make it appeal to a wide variety of homebuyers. People probably looking for a vacation house. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Well, Paul and Danny love it. So, that’s something.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. “That is something. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Maybe you’re making upgrades for a house in the middle of nowhere that don’t make sense.”

  Neither of us says anything for a bit.

  “The black tin roof and deck are great,” my mom finally states.

  “I know.”

  “But any more excess has to stop,” she cautions. “It’s about making the house sellable, okay?”

  When I pull into the driveway and slam the car to a stop, I note, “I’m having such a stupidly beautiful time here. I’ve met so many people who knew you and Dad. It’s kind of awesome.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Ray, Amelia, and Nicole remember you too.”

  It takes a long time for her to say something. “Yes, I remember them too. They were great friends.”

  And it takes me an equally long time to reply. “It’s nice, being around them. And Paul. People who knew Dad.”

  While she doesn’t say anything, I can hear that she’s trying to hide her emotion. I’m pushing her buttons, and I know it. I’m bringing up things she doesn’t want to talk about. I’m bringing up the past.

  “Grandma used to do brunches at this house, and now, I’m hosting brunches again, and all these people are coming around each week. I told you that I’m cooking, and I wasn’t kidding. I’m really doing something. And the house is going to be perfect.”

  “Please, Callie.” She’s struggling to stay calm. “Brunches are fun, I know, but that’s not why you’re there. Please understand that the house doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be cleaned up and sellable. Make choices that appeal to any buyer, especially in the kitchen. Neutral is always the way to go. We’re going to sell this to anyone who wants a house in a small town, right? This is what I do for a living, so I know what I’m talking about. There’s no reason to sink tons of money into a place in a nothing town.”

  The wrath that surges through me is unlike anything I’ve felt before, and I explode. Never have I unloaded at anyone with the kind of emotion as I do now, but I cannot stop myself. “Maybe I want to get attached. Maybe I already am. I know that it’s too hard for you to come back here, and it was hard for me, too, but I did it anyway. I did it despite how much it hurt because it was important. I came back here and faced how painful and intolerable it was to lose Dad. How tragically unfair it was for him to die with me literally by his side and how he must have known it was happening. That his kid was watching. And now, you’re dismissing this house and town as though they were nothing to us. This house is not just a livable structure. It’s my past. And maybe I fell in love with the past in more ways than one. And maybe I’ve found my future.” The only reason I pause is because I need air. “And Wake is not a nothing town,” I practically sob.

  It takes her a while to respond. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s not a nothing town. Not at all. I didn’t mean that. I’m the one who is—”

  Before I can let her say anything else that might destroy me further, I hang up.

  When I am in bed, I am the old me. Weak, broken, self-loathing.

  Yet when Danny moves under the sheets, he still embraces me but only because he doesn’t know. But maybe he does? Maybe he can tell how off I am by the fact that he knew I took a phone call from my mother, and now, I’m in bed early. His lips graze over mine, and he trickles his fingertips up and down my arm. Then, he wipes my cheek, and I realize that tears are falling.

  “Tell me two truths and one lie,” he demands.

  So, I tell him. “I was astounded by you today. Every part of me hurts, except for the parts connected to you. Third? I’m going to risk death by bear and feed the birds.” I know he’s smiling a bit as I move my body closer into his, and I rest my head on his chest. “Now, you. Two truths and a lie.”

  Kisses touch the top of my head, and he answers, “First, figs are my favorite food ever. God’s gift to the culinary world.”

  “You hate figs.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Danny lifts up. “Second, I believe in you. And third? I’m going to fall so deeply in love with you that I won’t know where I stop and where you begin, and I’ll never come back from that. And I won’t want to.”

  His words are likely the only reason that I am able to fall asleep without further tears.

  twenty-eight

  Saturday morning doesn’t start off with the same sense of excitement as it did the day before, my heart weighed down by what happened with my mom last night. Hoping that following my usual routine will help some, I chug orange juice, brew coffee, sit myself on the back porch, search for recipes, and look for deer. No Disney forest creatures and no inspiring recipes show up.

  My
iPad gets chucked to the side. Maybe staying in this house is a damn stupid idea. It’s not as though I have a job, and I can’t live off of my father’s money forever, and I don’t want to. Despite Paul’s optimism, I can’t believe that my mother would hand over this house when she probably has no confidence in me, no belief in me. And she shouldn’t, if I’m honest. I don’t.

  The creaking stairs tell me that Danny is on his way down.

  “I almost don’t want to fix this railing. I sorta like seeing that kicked-down, broken banister.” He sits beside me. “Maybe when we redo it, we’ll leave one missing in honor.”

  Despite my mood, I can’t help but smile. “I don’t hate that idea.”

  It’s a bit before he speaks again. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Really bad call with my mom last night.”

  He keeps me company while I sit and throw rocks in the creek.

  “Do you want to stay home today?” he asks. “I don’t have to go to Wakefest. We could float and watch polar bears and drink wine.”

  “No. We’re both going. Although your proposition sounds damn fun, I want you to keep those beautiful face-painting appointments you have. And sitting around here isn’t going to change anything.”

  He steals a sip of my coffee. “How about I make breakfast today?”

  “If it’s a microwaved breakfast burrito, I’ll pass,” I joke.

  “Hey! I might have learned a thing or two from you. Pretty sure I can at least give you scrambled eggs and toast. It’s not much in comparison to what you do though.”

  “I love your offer, but you know what? I’d love to cook us omelets again.”

  “Back to basics?”

  “Back to basics,” I agree. “It’ll make me happy.”

  Despite a full stomach and Danny’s love, my mood is still low when I leave, and it’s not easy to show up at Mary Ann’s booth, but I manage to smile my way through. She knows something is terribly wrong, but she also knows not to ask about it in front of the never-ending crowd. After selling vegetables and the like for hours with her, it’s almost a relief to change into my bathing suit for my dunk-tank time.

  Before I take off, she touches my arm and forces me to look at her. “I know you’ve got Danny, but I’m here too. If and when you want to talk.”

  I nod.

  “Do you want to skip this stupid dunk tank? It’s no problem if you do.”

  “And lose all those donations? Never. But thank you.”

  It’s easy to fake a smile for mere seconds when strangers pitch at a target for charity, and I do smile and laugh for real when I’m dunked and earning money. This is the distraction that I didn’t know I needed.

  I’m wiping myself dry and wrapping myself up in a robe when Danny finds me.

  “Can I give you a ride home?”

  “You’d better. I’ve been dunked so many times that I feel a little drunk.”

  “Dunk drunk?” he suggests, making me smile a bit again.

  Neither of us says anything on the ride home. His hand holds mine tightly, and I look out the window while Shallots sits on my lap. The dog repeatedly pushes his head under my hand; the begging for pats is endearing, and I don’t deny his request. There’s nothing like a bit of animal comfort when you need it the most.

  Danny backs his truck into my yard and parks. “Shally, go inside, bud.” He helps his pup onto the ground and watches as he barrels through the unlocked door. “And now, to get you out.” He walks to the passenger side, gives me his hand, and makes a fun show of circling me to sit on the cargo bed of his truck. “Beer?” he asks as he lifts me up and then sits beside me.

  “I thought you didn’t drive around with booze anymore.”

  “Tonight, I do. Thought you might need one. Or five.” He cracks open a can and hands it to me.

  “Thank you.” A cold beer is exactly what I need right now.

  At least ten minutes go by, before he asks, “Do you trust me?”

  That’s easy to answer. “Without a doubt.”

  Slowly, he reaches over and delicately unties my robe and opens it, and then he has me pull my arms free so that he can strip off the rest of it.

  “What are you—”

  “Trust me,” he says again. “Lie back.”

  So, I do. Barely clothed, exposed, and vulnerable. But I do trust him, so I don’t protest.

  He rummages around his truck for a bit, and I hear him set down item after item, each clanging against the truck bed.

  “Danny?”

  “Polar-bear white.” Without warning, his fingers hover over my skin before he streaks something wet over my stomach, and I arch my back under his touch. “Look down.”

  As I do, I see he dipped his fingers into his face paint, lighting up my skin under the moonlight.

  “That’s part of you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I admit.

  Next, he scoops a pale yellow that he runs over my collarbone. “What’s that sauce I love? The one that’s a pain in the ass to make, but you do so when I ask because you are kind, selfless, and caring?” he asks. “Hollandaise?”

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “The night I first saw you again? The sky was an almost-indescribable metallic indigo. You and that night were the start of something new for me.” It’s only seconds for him to blend a new shade, yet it feels like forever.

  I inhale deeply as he parts my legs and rubs this shade up and down the inside of my thighs.

  “Do you remember? That was the night that brought you back to me. When I didn’t even know that I needed you.”

  My legs are shaking when I glance down at his artwork. “Yes.”

  “Good. When you make me laugh now? I see this very specific shade of burnt umber that kills me.” Danny swipes his fingers through more new colors and traces the outline right under the top of my bathing suit, barely dipping under the fabric.

  “That sexy tin roof you picked out? Onyx. But when the sun hits it at the right angle, it’s nothing but lush, ripe blackberry.” His hand moves lower with this new color, over the bottom of my bathing suit, until he’s officially driving me crazy. “You could have chosen the same traditional roof, but you were audacious. You were brave.”

  “Danny—”

  “I saw your kitchen plans. Bold, smart, and crazily creative. Outside of your comfort zone. So many shades of green, so many textures …” He takes his time, continuing to coat my body. “What you have planned in there? Fern, bamboo, pistachio … all so sexy. Now, tell me what you see in yourself,” he says. “What color takes over when you’re cooking?”

  Given that I’m bordering on delirium and starting to pant, his question seems unfair. Still, I answer as best I can. “Scorched red. Because I’m on fire and also so scared.”

  “And when you host brunches? Feed so many of us? Cook with Alex? When you’re taking care of people and connecting us all?”

  “Brunches? I see metallic gold, chestnut. But Alex?” I shake my head, force myself to focus, and blurt out my reply, “Plum and wisteria. Purple shades for some reason.”

  “It doesn’t matter why.” Within minutes, shades of gold, chestnut, and purples are now wet on my arms, and Danny is still close against me. He whispers into my ear, “What about when you smash tiles?”

  “Mist.” My answer is immediate. “It heals me.”

  “And the lake you love to float on?”

  “It depends on the day, the weather. Usually denim,” I manage. I close my eyes and take a moment to inhale and exhale. “Sometimes graphite. Even porpoise.”

  “I know how much you adore the water,” he says softly. “It brings you peace.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “Especially after a storm. When leftover waves crash in? The water is a deep steel blue.”

  “What color do you see when you think about me?”

  I roll my head to look at him. “I think you know the answer to that.”

  As he strokes the glorious cerulean that I’ve fallen in love w
ith over my upper thigh and down to my calves, he finally kisses me.

  “What color do you see when we make love?”

  “Apricot.”

  Danny undoes the top of my suit and pushes it away. His hand moves to my nipples, playing as he paints. “What else? What do you see when we’re really heated? When you’re gasping?”

  It’s so hard to think right now. “I don’t know.”

  “Focus,” he says.

  “Help me. Remind me.” I push his hand down.

  “Are you sure you want this right now?” he whispers gently.

  “Beyond sure.”

  When his hand is over the bottom of my bikini, moving ever so slowly, he again asks, “What colors do you see when we’re really heated? When you’re about to grab on to me and scream? When I’m losing my mind because of how phenomenal you feel and I’m trying to last as long as I can for you?”

  I run a hand through my hair and answer, “Tiger orange … and a flushed … hot pink … orchid. Danny, please don’t stop.”

  And he doesn’t until I see them.

  “Those are not the colors of a nobody,” he whispers as I recover. “And we’ve barely scratched the surface.”

  Still in a haze, I can only breathe out my reply. “But they’re only going to wash away.”

  “Maybe you need a better reminder. A more permanent one.” He moves away for a beat. I turn my head and see him tearing off a long sheet of parchment from the roll he used at Wakefest. “Put your arms down by your sides.”

  The paper floats above me for a second before he settles it over my body, and inch by inch, he presses down, capturing every color we’ve talked about, every color that he’s tried to show me is part of who I am.

  Danny stands and holds up the imprint of myself—of our night—letting the glow of the moon shine through. “Do you finally see how beautiful you are?” He sets down the paper, grabs a container, and then scoops me up in his arms. “You probably won’t tonight. But I hope you will.”