by Taylor Hyer
“What do you mean?” Parker asked.
“Parker,” I said, “you’re only seventeen and you’ve dealt with more than most people could imagine. If you’re upset or grieving over something, that doesn’t make you a weak person. It makes you a person who has gone through too much. It makes you stronger than you’ll ever know.”
Parker didn’t speak. She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, thinking. After a few silent moments, her lips curved into a smile and she moved her body closer to mine. Before I knew it, Parker’s body was enveloped into mine. I wrapped my arms around her and ran my fingers through her soft hair. We sat in silence for a few minutes, not letting the moment pass us by.
“I’m going to ask you something that may be selfish at a time like this,” I said, immediately regretting bringing it up.
“Jackson said you wanted to be my boyfriend,” Parker interrupted before I could ask.
“What did you say to that?” I asked nervously, tracing my finger on Parker’s palm.
“Me too,” Parker replied. “It almost feels selfish, but I have been thinking about you the whole time. I wanted you with me, but I also didn’t want to hurt my dad. He lost his everything, but I know my mom would want all of us to go on.”
I leaned down to kiss her, afraid she would lean away. To my surprise she leaned in too, kissing me back. It was a quick kiss, lasting only a couple of seconds; but it was all I needed. I didn’t want Parker to feel pressured, so I leaned away and simply hugged her. She hugged me back strongly, squeezing her arms around my waist. It was the tightest hug I had ever felt.
With that hug, I felt Parker’s body release everything that it seemed to have built up. Her arms went limp around my body, and I could feel her body become hotter. A few seconds later, I heard a faint whimper. Parker’s body began to shake, and I lifted her up so she was sturdier on my lap. Her small body fit so well in my arms, and I wanted her to feel safe as I held on tight.
Parker’s head was now buried in my chest, and she was crying loudly. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered as I stroked her hair and rubbed her back. “I’ve got you.”
I let her cry for as long as she needed to, feeling my shirt begin to soak with her tears. Every so often, it was like she forgot how to breathe, because she would inhale loudly as if she were gasping for air. She stayed limp in my lap, but every so often her hand grasped onto my arm desperately. She had short nails, but they dug into my skin as she held on for dear life.
It took less than five minutes for Parker to fall asleep. I knew she was sleeping because her body began to twitch, and I could no longer hear her crying. I knew she was exhausted, so I sat there, still stroking her hair.
A knock came from outside of my door, and Leighton walked in. “Hey, Dad wants you to—”
“Shh,” I cut him off, nodding my head down in Parker’s direction.
“Is she asleep?” Leighton whispered.
I nodded, “It’s been a tiring week.”
“She hasn’t been around,” he replied.
“She needed some time with her family,” I said quietly.
“Are y’all dating?”
I shrugged slightly, “I mean, I think so. It’s hard to say. I just don’t want to pressure her into anything right now with everything going on.”
“I like her,” Leighton said. “Dad wants to talk to you about the passes you dropped yesterday. I know he’s gonna say something about her, but don’t let him get to you.”
“You guys are always on my ass about girls,” I said. “What’s different now?”
“This one’s real,” Leighton said as he walked out of my room, quietly shutting my door.
I slowly reached for my phone and text Leighton, wanting him to go more in depth about his last comment. How did he see how serious this was?
7:45pm: Why did you just say that?
7:50pm from Leight: Bro, you took her to the waterfall. I know where you were. You’ve never taken anyone there, let alone a girl.
7:52pm from Leight: You stayed at the hospital for hours just to make sure she was okay. I’m sure you’ve brought plenty of girls home before without Mom and Dad knowing, but you’ve never actually brought one just to hangout and meet them.
7:55pm: Why would you give me shit before then?
8:00pm from Leight: Because I didn’t know before. Bro, you’re a hell of a football player, and I have no doubt that you’ll be in the NFL…but you’ve gotta have someone to support you when you make it big time.
8:02pm from Leight: Your favorite twins will be there for you, but we may be your opponents, so you’ve gotta have someone else wearing your jersey…and you know Mom and Dad will wear mine and Landon’s.
8:05pm: I’ll have that top selling jersey my first year, you just wait.
8:07pm from Leight: Game on, brother.
8:10pm: Thanks, Leight. Dad won’t get it, though.
8:14pm from Leight: Dad married the first woman he fell in love with. His NFL dreams died, but that wasn’t because of Mom. If the playa himself finds a girlfriend, better keep that girl forever.
8:17pm: It’s so new though. We haven’t even known each other for that long.
8:22pm from Leight: Ain’t nothing but a thing, bro.
Just as I was about to respond to Leighton, Parker began to move in my lap. She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. She yawned and looked at me, releasing a half smile.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she said, her voice groggy.
I leaned down to kiss her forehead. She didn’t pull away, so I let my lips press against her warm face. I kept it there for a few moments, holding her tightly. Parker looked up and leaned in, kissing my lips tenderly.
She pulled away after a moment and said, “I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t say that again,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
Her body was warm, and I could hear her heartbeat. It was steady; no longer at a fast pace like it was before. After I unraveled my arms from around her, I looked into her eyes. She had dark circles around them, though the slight sparkle they had were back. She had more color in her cheeks, as if that nap brought back years onto her life.
Parker
Being in RJ’s arms felt selfish, but I knew my mom would have wanted me to be happy. There was a force pulling me to him ever since we met during gym class. I refused to pull away any longer. I knew his type, but I also knew that there was a different side to him than he let others see. If he was letting me in, it had to be real.
“How’s Jackson?” RJ asked.
“He’s still confused sometimes,” I answered.
“That makes sense,” RJ said. “He’s so young.”
“He has this school play this week, and he can’t stop talking about it,” I said. “Mom always loved going to support the arts, especially if we were involved in them. Sporting events were never really her cup of tea.”
“I’d love to go if that’s okay,” RJ spoke up. “I told him I would.”
I looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “You?” I asked, pushing my finger into his shoulder. “You’re going to go watch a bunch of children in an awfully put together play and have to pretend to enjoy it?”
“Your brother is the shit,” RJ laughed. “I’ll go pretend his acting is good for a couple hours.”
RJ was running his fingers up and down my arm. They were smooth and felt cool on my warm body. My skin looked even lighter when I was next to him; almost translucent. RJ’s skin was beautiful. I took a moment to really look at it as we sat in silence.
His skin was smooth; not a blemish covered any visible surface. He had a small wrinkle on the left side of his eye, probably from smiling so much. I reached out and touched it, tracing my finger down the side of his face. I moved my finger toward a light scar that was on the side of his nose, close to his eye.
“How’d you get this?” I asked, running a finger over it.
“I wish I had a badass story about it,” RJ laughed, “but I fell into the corne
r of a metal crate when I was seven. Man, I thought for sure I was going to die. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, but my dad just kept telling me to man up. Even at the age of seven he was tough.”
“He seems tough for sure, but I know he loves you,” I said.
“He has his moments,” RJ laughed softly. “Anyway, what about you? Any scars or wild blood stories?”
“Ah, it’s that moment huh?” I asked.
RJ raised an eyebrow, “What?”
“The moment where we tell each other about our scars, our favorite color, favorite food. The moment where we find out if we have any quirks that we love or hate about each other,” I replied.
“You watch so many movies!” he exclaimed, laughing. “We might as well have that moment now, huh?”
I nodded. Might as well. I lifted up my shirt and showed him the scar on my stomach. “I had to have stomach surgery when I was nine because there was some unusual blockage in my bowels. Gross, right? You sure you want to know more?”
“You’re ridiculous,” RJ rolled his eyes. He reached out and outlined his finger along my scar. They were no longer cold on my skin.
“Okay, I’ll give you a list. Here we go,” I started. “My favorite color is blue because I love the sky and the ocean. My favorite food is mac and cheese because well, who doesn’t love that? My favorite animal is probably a cheetah because they’re fast and cute. I have a problem with playing with my hair tie when I’m nervous or don’t know what to say. I used to get bruises from doing it so much. I hate when people crack their knuckles; the sound of it gives me chills.”
I pointed to RJ in anticipation. I was ready to hear about his favorite and least favorite things, mostly because I didn’t like giving up information about myself. I didn’t think any of it was interesting, though RJ listened intently; staring me in the eyes as I spoke.
“Okay, I’m assuming that means you don’t want to talk about yourself anymore,” RJ laughed. At least he understood. I nodded and RJ continued, “My favorite color is red because it’s our school color. My favorite food is steak because it helps you gain weight. I really like elephants because they are so big, and they are smarter than people think.
“I think one of my biggest flaws would be that I don’t like talking about my life. People only know about my football life, and that’s how it’ll stay. My biggest pet peeve is when people bite their nails and spit them out all over. Leighton does that and I just want to make him swallow all of those damn fingernails.”
I laughed out loud at how mad RJ was getting just thinking about Leighton’s fingernails all over the place. He was clenching his fists and I could see him holding his breath. I grabbed his hands and said, “I knew that was your biggest flaw already.”
“You’re the only one,” RJ replied.
“I can see through the façade,” I said. “I wish you’d let others in.”
“What do you want to go to school for?” RJ asked, changing the subject.
“Writing probably,” I replied.
“Will you ever show me that notebook you were writing in on the first day of school?”
I laughed, “Maybe. If you’re lucky.”
I had been writing in it every day. Once school started, I promised myself that I would write a passage every day. I had kept that promise to myself. Some entries were longer than others. Some days I wouldn’t have the energy, so I’d simply write a couple sentences about my day and move on.
Once my mom died, I wrote a lot more. I wrote stories with her as the main character, still alive and painting in her studio in the basement. I wrote poems for her. I’d read the poem aloud, hoping she was somewhere in the room with me, listening to the pain in my voice. Many pages were stained with tears, because I couldn’t help but cry as I wrote all about my mother.
My favorite poem went like this:
I miss your tender touch
When you would hold me as I cried.
I miss your warm smile
When you would lighten any room.
I miss your soft voice
When you would say “I love you”.
I miss your creativity
When you would paint the evening's sky.
I miss your everything
When you were still here.
When you were still here.
It wasn’t a good poem, I knew that, but it meant a lot. It helped me remember her, and all of the good she had within her.
RJ waved his hand in front of me. “Penny for your thoughts?”
I blinked rapidly a few times, taking myself away from my own mind. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my mom.”
“Do you write about her?” RJ asked.
“Yes, a lot,” I replied. “She’s always been my inspiration. I got my creative side from her.”
“I’m glad I was able to meet her, even if it was brief,” RJ said softly. He had reached out to hold my hand. He ran his thumb back and forth against my skin again, making me shiver.
“Do you want to come over after practice tomorrow?” I asked abruptly. “There’s something I’d love to show you.”
RJ
I showered in the locker room after practice, knowing I’d get stuck at home if I went there before going to Parker’s. Mondays were usually designated for Dad’s big “it’s a new week” lecture. He’d sit my brothers and me down and we’d go over what was expected of us for the week. It had nothing to do with school or life, and everything to do with football.
He would take out our printed stats sheet from the previous game and go over it with each of us. He usually had game film ready for us to watch as well with the need to pick apart every little move we made. That sack could have been cleaner. That tackle could have been avoided if you would’ve pushed off a second sooner.
Dad was our toughest critic. I didn’t want to sit through another lecture, so I didn’t go home. I text Leighton after I got into my car: Going to P’s house. I know it’s Doomsday, but she wanted to show me something.
5:45pm from Leight: So you get to skip Doom for some sex? Screw you.
5:47pm: That’s not what I was talking about, jackass.
5:48pm from Leight: What am I supposed to say to Dad?
5:50pm: You’ll think of something, I’m sure.
5:51pm from Leight: Now I’m going to get even more shit about that missed sack on Saturday.
5:53pm: Stop missing sacks and he won’t have as much to talk to you about.
5:55pm from Leight: You’re a real piece of work.
I put my phone in the passenger seat and drove out of the parking lot.
Parker and Jackson were outside passing a soccer ball back and forth when I pulled in their driveway. Jackson turned as he heard my car and his face lit up. He ran up to me as I parked and waited anxiously as I opened my car door.
“RJ!” Jackson yelled, jumping up to give me a hug. I held him there for a moment then set him down. Parker was behind him, and once he ran back to his soccer ball, I enveloped her into a tight embrace.
“Staying active I see,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “That’s hot.”
Parker laughed and playfully pushed me away. She smiled, looking into my eyes. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back toward me, leaning in for a kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed me. Her lips tasted like coconut, and she smelled the same. Parker took my hand and we walked toward her house.
The house was a light shade of blue with dark gray shutters. It was an average sized home with a two car garage attached. There were flower baskets hanging from the porch, and their scent pleasantly filled my nose as we walked through the front door.
I think Parker noticed that I enjoyed the smell because she said, “These used to be my mom’s favorite. She’d come out here and water them every day. They were so fertilized and taken care of. Now I do the same; it’s like she’s still here in those flowers.”
I smiled and kissed Parker on the forehead. “They’re beautiful,” I said.
“I wanted to sho
w you my mom’s studio,” Parker said, leading me down the stairs into her basement. “It was her sacred place that she could go to just be free.”
“Why do you want to show me?” I asked.
“Because it was special to her. She would have wanted you to see it,” Parker replied. “She only ever brought special people down here.”
At that moment, I thought I loved her. I loved her for bringing me somewhere that not many people were allowed. I loved her for opening up to me when I knew it was the hardest thing she had ever done. I knew I couldn’t tell her that yet, because Parker was the type to flee a situation like that. I kept it in my head, knowing I could say it one day in the future.
“What?” Parker asked, bringing me out of my trance. I hadn’t realized we were stopped at the bottom of the stairs and I was staring at her.
“Sorry,” I laughed, looking away. “Let’s go.”
She led me down a narrow hallway and into a small room at the end. There was a canvas set up and paint everywhere. The room was originally painted white, but there was paint splattered on the walls, making it a multi-colored room.
“This is where she painted,” Parker said. “She was working on this piece before she died.”
It was a painting of a skyline, with a sunset behind it reflecting off of water. It was beautiful. She had painted the sky, but hadn’t fully finished with the water or the buildings. The sunset had red, orange, and yellow within it. Everything was blended so well. It almost looked real.
“This is beautiful,” I said. “She was magnificent.”
“Her soul was made for this,” Parker said. “Everything she did was creative. It all meant something. Her art mattered.”
We walked back down the hallway and into another room. This room housed all of the finished paintings. The room was full of different sized canvases, all painted so differently. There were many paintings of the sky, flowers, animals, and a few portraits of people.