Meant To Be (8 page)

“Guess what we’re painting today?” She glanced up at the porch ceiling.

“Ughhhhh.” He groaned. That meant paint, splattering, everywhere.

She giggled and walked over to the box of paint supplies. After a few seconds of rummaging, she withdrew a white painters’ cap. She shook it open and placed it on his head, brim facing backward.

“There.” Her eyes twinkled. “I’ll be a pirate. You can be the Fresh Prince of Bel Air.”

“What?” he said. “Wait a minute. I don’t want to be the Fresh Prince. And how come you get to be a pirate?”

“Because I remembered we were painting today, so I brought a bandanna.” She laughed. “Stop pouting. Next week I’ll bring you one too. Then we can both be pirates.”

She pulled an old flannel shirt out of her duffel bag and put her arm through one sleeve.

“Were we supposed to bring shirts, too?” Daniel asked.

She couldn’t seem to stop giggling at him. “Here.” She pulled another shirt from her bag. “I have an extra. It’ll fit. It’s enormous.”

“Thanks.” She was right. It was huge. He cuffed up the sleeves and flipped back the collar. The shirt smelled sweet, like Marienne. She was busy sorting paintbrushes, so he went back to work trying to pry the lid off the paint can.

“Ha,” he said, as the lid popped open on one side. With two more taps the rest came loose.

“Well done,” she said.

He pried the lid off with enough force to cause paint to slosh over the edge of the container and all over his shoe.

She clapped her hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Uckkkkk.” He felt the paint seep between the folds of his Converse high tops.

Marienne grabbed a roll of paper towels from the paint box and knelt beside him.

“Stay still,” she said, mopping as much excess paint off his sneaker as she could.

He stayed motionless, except for the fingers that rubbed against his forehead

I’m such an idiot.

He watched Marienne’s profile as she wiped around the perimeter of his shoe. A smile tugged at her lips, and she pressed them together, trying not to laugh. He flashed back to the way she’d looked at the park the week before, the same playful smile, the same vanilla scent wafting off her.

She turned and caught him staring. “Take off your shoe,” she said.

“What?”

“Take off your shoe. Otherwise the paint’s going to dry and your sock and shoe will fuse together. Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”

Daniel complied. She took it, pulled out the laces and stuffed paper towels inside.

“I can do that.” He tried to grab the shoe back from her, but she moved away, handing him the roll of paper towels instead.

“You work on your sock.” She giggled. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared behind the back wall of the stage, with his shoe.

Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. The paint was already starting to dry, leaving a powdery trail along the edge of his sock. He sighed.
How do I manage to do these things?
Feeling ridiculous with one bare foot, he removed his other shoe and sock and returned his attention to the paint can. He stirred the paint with a wooden stick, wishing Marienne would come back.

“Okay,” she said.

He turned to see her approaching with two Cokes. “I rinsed off your shoe and set it against the a/c, so it might be dry before we leave. Here.” She handed him a can.

“Thanks.” He popped it open and took a mouthful.

“Try not to spill it,” she said.

He nearly spit out the soda. “You’re enjoying all this, aren’t you?” he asked, putting down the Coke.

“Little bit.” She grinned.

Without thinking, he removed the painters cap and raked a hand through his hair, feeling strands cling to his palm. He groaned as he realized that his hand still had paint on it, and now so did his hair. He closed his eyes and heard Marienne once again struggling to contain her laughter. It wasn’t working. The giggles were bubbling out of her.

“Did you just squeak?” he asked.

She inhaled a hiccupy giggle and squeaked again, laughing too hard to speak, but nodding her head.

“The squeaky pirate and the shoeless Prince of Bel Air,” he said. “This production is in serious trouble.”

****

They made it through the rest of the evening with a minimal amount of spilling and managed to get the entire porch painted.

Daniel cleaned off the paint can rims before hammering on the lids then walked backstage in search of Marienne and his shoe. He stepped carefully, realizing it wasn’t the best idea to be barefoot in a construction area. As he rounded the corner at the back of the theater, he saw Marienne, standing at the deep utility sink.

Even in the dim green glow of the humming florescent light, she looked adorable, strands of her dark hair coming loose in odd pieces that had worked their way free of the confines of the bandana, the plaid shirt falling slightly off one shoulder. Her arm moved up and down inside the sink basin. As he approached he saw that she was washing one of the paint rollers. Her hand was tightly curled around the roller as she stroked it beneath the rush of water. Her fingers spiraled against the surface of the long tube and grey paint swirled down the drain.

“Need some help?” he asked, trying to ignore how turned on he was.

She jumped. “Jesus. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He pointed to his bare feet. “Stealth attire.”

“We may need to put a bell on you or something.”

“Well, a bell would complete this outfit.” He was pleased to hear her giggle again. “Here, allow me.” He reached over and slid the paint roller out of her hands. “I think you’ve cleaned up enough paint for today.

“It’ll go quicker if we both do it.” She picked up one of the paint brushes from the sink basin.

He was grateful there weren’t any rollers left. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching her clean another one of those without staring. “Did you walk again?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I’m afraid it’s cloudy tonight.”

“I noticed.” He felt another pang of disappointment, thinking that no star gazing potential probably meant no park.

“But the swings are still there,” she said. “Unless of course you want to go straight home and wash off all the paint you’ve managed to get on you.”

“You’re pretty well covered yourself, you know. You’ve got grey freckles.”

“So do you.” She smiled. “Only yours match the streak in your hair.”

****

“Ha ha,” he said, but she could tell he was amused. She was busy watching his hands as they cleaned the roller. She hadn’t thought about how sexual the process was until she took note of his long fingers caressing the roller, water cascading down around it. She flushed from her own dirty thoughts.
Oh God. Stop it before you say something that embarrasses both of you.
She took one last look, admiring his grip and shuddering before she stepped aside to start drying the brushes.

“Does Frank ever volunteer here?” Daniel asked.

“Frank? Volunteer? Here? There are so many things wrong with those words being strung together I don’t know where to begin.”

“Okay, so not a theater guy?”

“No, he thinks plays are boring.” She shrugged. “Plus he likes to get paid for his time. He’d never devote his free time to something like this. What about Justine?”

“Uh, no, definitely not Justine’s idea of fun. So, I guess you and Frank didn’t meet working on a production.”

“No, I met Frank at a friend’s law school graduation party. I wasn’t having the best time at the party, because I didn’t know hardly anyone, so I went out on the fire escape to have a cigarette. Frank followed me, and we started talking”

“You smoked?”

“Then, yes, all the time. Oral fixation.”

“Me too.” He laughed. “When did you quit?”

“When Frank and I got engaged. I knew it was bad for me. What about you?”

“Justine said she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life licking an ashtray. She pretty much demanded I quit. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad I did it. Except of course for those times when I feel like I would trade a kidney for a cigarette.”

“That never goes away completely.” They carried the clean brushes and rollers back to the supply crate and Marienne grabbed Daniel’s shoe from the a/c vent. “It’s pretty dry.” She ran her hand over the now faint paint smudge.

“Thanks.” He smiled, taking the shoe as they walked back toward the set. “So, Frank asked you out at the party?”

“Not exactly. He walked me to my car that night and kissed me goodnight, which totally shocked me. I didn’t want to date anyone at the time. I’d just gotten out of a bad relationship.”

“With the jerk who tried to kill himself?”

“Yes.” She was impressed that he remembered and embarrassed that she’d told him so much. It wasn’t like her to spill her guts like that, particularly to someone she didn’t know well.

“Must have been a good kiss if it made you change your mind.” He pulled on his shoes and took off the shirt, handing it back to Marienne.

“Actually, no.” She laughed, blushing. “It wasn’t a very good kiss at all.”

Daniel’s eyes widened.

Marienne shoved the shirt into her duffel bag along with her own, then took out her fleece jacket and pulled it on. Zipping the bag shut, she swung it over her shoulder. “I told him I wasn’t interested in seeing anyone. But he asked if he could call me anyway. And then he did.”

“And that did it?” Daniel lifted the duffel off Marienne’s shoulder. “I’ll carry that.” He reached toward her with his other hand and fixed her collar, flipping her hair out from beneath it.

The touch of his hand sent a tingle through her. “Not right away. He was persistent. And persuasive. Flowers, poems, the whole deal.”

“Romantic, eh?”

Marienne nodded. “Then. Now not so much.”

“The important things must still be there. Chivalry? Defends your honor?”

She giggled, shaking her head.

“He must at least share his Oreos with you.”

Marienne threw him a surprised look. “Frank hates Oreos, but I imagine if he ever had any he’d let me have all of them. Not sure that’s quite the same thing.”

“So, how did you know he was ‘the one’?”

Good question
. “I guess it was mainly because he was different from everyone else I’d dated. There was no drama.”

“No sex with a guitarist on your bed and no secret ex-girlfriend?”

“Exactly. But it was more than that. I don’t know how to explain it. Frank knew exactly what he wanted from a career, exactly what kind of life he wanted, and it felt….” She struggled to find the right word.

“Safe?” Daniel asked.

“Yes,” she said. “And stable. Frank was sure about everything, including us. It was nice to not have the constant feeling of dread and uncertainty. I’m sure that sounds like a horrible reason for marrying someone.”

“Not at all,” Daniel said. “I know what you mean. I felt a very similar way when I met Justine. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d been with. She was so driven and directed, there was no question for her whatsoever about where her life was headed. It was very attractive.”

“Everything about Justine is attractive,” Marienne said.

Daniel laughed. “Not everything. No one’s perfect.”

“Some are closer than others.”

Daniel shifted the bag on his shoulder; it had started to slip from the number of times he’d turned to look at Marienne.

“How did you and Justine meet?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“It was totally random,” he said. “I sat down at her table in the dining hall at Hayden one day. There were no other seats free. We’d never laid eyes on each other before.”

Marienne swallowed.
That’s not what Justine said.

“We started talking,” he continued. “I wound up walking her to her next class, and then we met up for a drink, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Wow.”
He has no idea.
Marienne bristled as she remembered Justine bragging about tricking him.

“There was something about the way it all happened by chance. We met, we clicked, like it was fate or destiny.”

Or it was Justine taking what she wanted.
She wondered if he told their story at parties and Justine listened and smiled.

“It’s silly, really, now that I think back on it. I mean I could have met anyone that day. I could have met you.”

“But you didn’t. You met Justine.”
Because that’s how she planned it.
“How long were you together before you got married?”

“A few years. I wasn’t really thinking about marriage back then, but Justine was. We came close to breaking up at one point, because I wasn’t fitting in with her vision of how things were supposed to go, but instead we wound up getting engaged.”

Marienne couldn’t help but speculate if Justine had manipulated him again. “I guess you guys figured out how to make your futures fit together.”