Finding Me (29 page)

“You always have wiggled a lot,” Max says with a lazy smile on his full lips.

I’m not sure how to respond, so I simply nod again, wondering if he was awake through part of my failed escape mission.

“So how was hanging out with Sarah and Hank?” Kendall asks in a cheery tone as she walks in holding two pizza boxes.

My neck snaps to where she’s standing. The trigger for my dire need for snuggling up beside Max last night, hits me.

I sit back on the couch near Max’s feet, no longer feeling steady, and grip the bottom of my pajama shorts, rolling the hem between my thumbs and forefingers. I don’t want to share Sarah’s nightmare. It isn’t mine to share.

“It was…”

“It sucked,” Max says, moving to sit upright. “Some asshole was a total jerk to Ace at the bar last night so she and Sarah came home, but Sarah ended up not feeling well, so Ace had to take care of her.”

I glance at Max, overtly aware that he’s referring to himself as the asshole from the bar, since I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than the girl that was trying to discern if he was my boyfriend.

He looks at me and for the first time since I’ve been back, his face unguarded as he gives me a small smile. “She really helped Sarah a lot. It was a rough night.”

I glance back at my fingers that are now tying themselves in the tassels of the throw blanket.

“That really sucks. I hope she’s okay.”

I try to assure her with a smile, but I can tell with her answering expression she knows something more occurred.

“I figured since you guys were asleep at four in the afternoon it must have been a long night.”

“It is always wise to look ahead, but difficult to look further than you can see.”

–Winston Churchill

I
awake to one of the neighbors mowing the lawn and consider the fact that there hasn’t been enough heat in Delaware yet to warrant lawn maintenance—a strong positive for living there. I wander into the kitchen, wondering if I’ll run into Max and how things will be after yesterday and the few hours that the four of us spent together watching movies and eating pizza like old times, laughing and teasing one another, almost as though the last year never happened. Yesterday had been such a short day, a part of me feels as though I wasted precious time sleeping.

“Hello, sleepyhead!” Kendall sings. Her smile is infectious, and as soon as I feel my matching grin, my heart aches with a sharp twist. I already know that going back to Delaware Monday is going to be difficult, but seeing my sister like this—like we’re still two halves of the same whole, and there isn’t a silent discomfort tainting our time together—inflicts the pain. How have I survived these past ten months without her? Without all of them.

“We’re heading to Abby’s, you need to get dressed.”

“I forgot!” The palm of my hand slaps my forehead as I look to see what time it is. We’re supposed to be at her apartment to help paint the nursery in less than thirty minutes. I stand up and head to my suitcases.

“I already texted her and told her we might be a little late. She said it’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll hurry.”

The odor of bleach is nearly obscured by the coconut scented candle burning on the bathroom counter. I watch the flame dance for several seconds, transfixed by the movement and slight heat radiating off the wick. What is going to happen? Where do things stand with Max and me? Can we be friends? Do I want to be his friend? The memory of his grip on my wrists, and the look in his eyes as we faced each other early Monday morning makes my heart stampede in my chest. I press myself to recall what was said, and what wasn’t. I get in the shower and let the water help focus my thoughts, dissecting each of our intentions. I thought he was going to ignore me and let me go to Mindi and Kyle’s the following day, but Max knew I was hurting. He knew I wouldn’t be able to redirect my thoughts alone. Because he knows where I’m weak without me saying it and the levels of self-destruction I’m willing to go to, to avoid it—things I’m just now learning about myself. I’m fairly certain he always has. I just thought he stopped caring.

My thoughts travel to him consoling me on the couch, and I desperately work to place the words he spoke too softly for me to hear. My frustration is piqued as I reach forward to turn off the water in defeat. I have no idea what Max said to me. Why wasn’t I working harder to pay attention?

My thoughts ate up more time than I realized, and I rush to get ready, dressing in a borrowed pair of shorts from Kendall with red fingernail polish staining the green denim, and an old blue track shirt that I packed solely because I know how much Kendall wishes to burn it.

My hair is tied up into a knot as I head out to the living room to find Kendall, our purses in her hand, waiting to go.

“You packed the foot shirt?”

“It’s not a foot. It’s a shoe.”

“With wings!” Her voice is sarcastic, making my lips stretch into a grin. Kendall still has the ability to distract my frustrations, and help me find humor.

“I know how much you love it.”

“Always thinking of me.” Her hand falls to the middle of my back, and stays there until we reach the car. Once we’re buckled, her hand finds mine and we remain connected for the short journey to Abby and Jesse’s.

Kendall’s fist raps on the white apartment door. The warm winds tickle my bare legs, teasing of early summer weather though spring arrived for just a short stint and seems to be returning to winter back in Delaware. Jesse pulls open the door, releasing a deep breath.

“Ready and at your service, boss.” Kendall salutes him making me quietly laugh.

“Shhhh…” Jesse hisses. He reaches forward and grabs Kendall’s hand saluting him, and pulls her inside. “We aren’t supposed to paint the walls.”

“I thought that was a little odd,” Kendall replies, dropping her purse to the couch. “So why are we painting then?”

Jesse’s body lifts in a nonchalant shrug. “Because she wants the room to be pink. That seems like a pretty small request.”

“Ohhhh! Jesse, that is quite possibly the sweetest thing I’ve heard!”

Jesse’s eyes slowly blink and then his brows rise, his lips pressing in a firm line showing he isn’t appreciating Kendall’s words that are said with a slightly mocking tone, which I know to be sincere.

“It is sweet,” I add. “If I didn’t already like you, I would now for sure.”

“I’m glad to have your approval.” Jesse reaches forward and gently pushes me, making my shoulder sway against Kendall’s. “Now I need you to help me get her out of the nursery so we can paint it. I got the stuff with the lowest fumes, but everything still advises to have her out of the room.”

“I’m not going to paint. I’m just going to oversee.” Abby appears from the short hallway, her stomach looking less prominent covered in a loose sundress with bright shades of color spattered across the front. She’s smiling but I can see a train of objections she’s mentally calculating as she gets closer and hugs me.

“You can look at it when it’s done. You invited these two to make sure it was done to your expectations. It will be perfect, mi amor.”

“You really shouldn’t be around the fumes,” I add. “If you want us to change anything, we will. We won’t leave until it’s exactly what you want.”

“She knows. That’s why she wanted to be sure you would be here. You and Kendall don’t know how to allow imperfections.”

Kendall and Abby hug beside me, saying something that I can’t hear because Jesse’s words are replaying through my head. I feel like I am one giant imperfection that has made one imperfect decision after another over the past year.

My focus is brought to attention by Kendall clapping a couple of times and moving forward, followed by Abby and Jesse.

“So you’ve already painted?” Kendall’s eyebrows are scrunched with confusion.

“Only the base color for the three pink walls.” It’s my turn to be confused as I look to Abby for further information. “I changed my mind about the solid pink with the gray bottom and white stripe where they meet. I decided I want to do a gray wall, and then the pink walls will be striped.”

“Striped gray and pink?” Kendall’s tone shows how unfavorable she finds this idea.

“No. They’re going to be pink stripes. It’s nearly the same shade, but one is flat and the other glossy.”

I look over to Kendall and see that her eyes have gone slightly wider. Neither of us knows anything about painting. Kyle having worked in construction from the time he was eighteen, has always taken care of that, or referred a painting contractor if he didn’t have availability and my mom wasn’t feeling patient. She apparently doesn’t want to confess this to Abby, sensing her already unsteady mood.

“So we need to use tape, right? Painters tape?” Abby’s eyes move to Kendall, and her smile brightens.

“Yes. Jesse already painted the flat color, so you guys will help him apply the glossy pink.” She leads us into the nursery where three of the four walls are a soft baby pink, just as she’d explained. The floors are covered with tarps, and the single window is outlined with bright blue tape. The room isn’t very big. We can do this.

An hour goes by as we discuss the benefits of horizontal and vertical stripes. It’s another two hours until we finish measuring and marking the walls. We’re applying our second line of tape to the wall when Abby changes her mind and decides she prefers vertical stripes. Kendall’s eyes close, and I feel my head fall back on my shoulders, but Jesse releases a deep breath and nods.

“Sure, babe. Vertical it is.”

“It took us forever to measure the wall and figure out the spacing,” Kendall whines quietly to the two of us.

“Welcome to my world. You should try going to dinner with her and see how many places you pull up to before she picks one. Or crib shopping. That was fun.” Jesse grabs the end of the painters tape and pulls it free from the wall. It’s amazing how it takes only a second to undo what had taken us a couple of hours.

“We need Jameson,” I admit. “This should be simple, and yet I keep forgetting what side of the line the tape goes on, and I feel like every time we measure the wall we get another number.”

“He’s supposed to be off early today. They had some retreat this morning, so they’re only working a half day.”

“Call him!” Jesse exclaims, looking relieved by the prospect.

Kendall digs in her pocket and retrieves her phone. I start erasing pencil marks as she quickly sends out the world’s longest text.

“Should we paint the last wall gray while we wait?” As I ask, I head over to the white wall that has four patches of gray painted in large splotches.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let me just check with her first, make sure she hasn’t changed her mind again.”

Painting this small of a wall isn’t grueling or strenuous, but I feel nervous and flustered about every detail. We had started without adequate paint on our rollers, which required us to go over them with an extra coat. Then we overcompensated to make sure we didn’t make the same mistake and learned it causes drips. The open window makes one section dry faster and the paint there is lightening, so now it looks like a completely different color.

“How did you guys get so much paint on yourselves?” My head turns toward the door at Jameson’s voice, and my breath catches. Max is beside him wearing the same pair of old shorts he mowed the lawn in Sunday morning, and a shirt that says Jameson Whiskey across the front. Max’s eyes are on me, his lips turned slightly upward with a relaxed grin.

Kendall’s hand lands firmly on my butt, and she releases a laugh. I turn at the waist to see her gray handprint.

“You know these are your shorts, right?”

“That’s even better. My own handprint on my ass.”

I shake my head and put down my roller before turning to the wall to inspect our work once more. “Do you guys think it looks even? I feel like the right corner is darker.”

“The paint looks the wettest there. We have to wait until it’s all dry,” Jameson says, stepping closer inspecting our work. “You guys did pretty good. I’m impressed.”

“Jesse got called in to work right when we got started,” Kendall explains. “I’m glad you guys could come because this wall took us forever. Two perfectionists that don’t know what they’re doing is the exact recipe for an anxiety attack.”

Jameson smiles, taking a step closer to Kendall. His thumb follows a gray streak of paint running down her temple. “You guys did great, babe. Abby is going to love it.”