Painted Memories (12 page)

“I'm okay,” I said. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled my body close to his, nestling my face in the crook of his neck. His aftershave smelled warm and inviting, and I stayed there for a moment, relishing his scent and the comfort of his embrace. Being with him was probably better than being alone, but I knew I needed my space to deal with things. I also wanted to call Mom to see what was going on. “It means a lot that you're worried about me, but I'll be fine.”

He pulled away slightly and stared into my eyes. “All right then, I'll check on you later, at least, to put my own mind to rest.”

“That would be nice,” I stepped back. His hand slid down the back of my arm to grasp mine and he intertwined our fingers. His gaze was holding me, and it would have been so easy to let myself forget all the drama with my dad if I just kissed him. He wanted to kiss me; I had a feeling he always wanted to. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at me. But I couldn't do it. It wasn't the right time and it wouldn't be fair to either of us. Drew tugged me toward the door with our hands clasped together and pulled me out of my thoughts. Opening the door, he released my hand and rested both of his hands on my cheeks.

“Feel better, okay? And rest! That's an order,” he said, smiling.

“Yes sir!” I saluted.

He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. “I'll see you later, Lilly.”

“Okay.” I smiled as I watched him walk away. His kiss was simple. Nothing like the one we shared at his studio, but it was tender and sweet, and made me feel like he genuinely cared about me. Not that I doubted it before, but in that moment, when he tried to comfort me, it meant a whole lot more than I thought it would.

I tried for almost two hours to call Mom after Drew left, but kept getting voicemail. It worried me, considering Dad's current condition, but when I thought about it, it was typical for Mom to go hours— days even— before getting back to me. For someone who always had the best of everything, she never liked her cell phone and only had one because Dad insisted.

Giving up, I took a shower. I turned on the hottest water setting I could stand and cried my eyes out until the water finally turned cold. It felt good to get it all out, like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I retreated to the comfort of the couch with a quart of Ben & Jerry's ice cream to keep me company. After replaying my dad's words over and over in my head, and dredging up a bit of the past with Drew, then the memories of my brother, I was at my emotional limit.

The knock on my door made me jump, considering it was ten-thirty and I wasn't expecting anyone. Assuming it was Drew, I peeped through the spy hole,
 and sure enough, he stood in front of my door with his hands shoved in his pockets. I opened the door in my tee shirt and pajama pants. “Hey.”

He looked me over and grinned. “Nice pajamas.”

“Lay off the pencil and apple PJs. I love 'em,” I smirked.

“I do too,” he laughed. He looked closely at my face. “How are you feeling?”

I held up my ice cream, “Did you know this stuff cures everything?”

“So I've been told. Is it working so far?”

“Almost, I was just getting started. I'll let you have some if you don’t pick on my pants,” I teased.

“With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”

I smiled and walked toward the kitchen to get a spoon. “Have a seat. I'm watching a fascinating infomercial on the 'Amazing Chopper.' They almost have me convinced.” He sat on the couch, grinning. I handed him a spoon and held the carton between us. “I hope you like chocolate, or rather ‘Chocolate Therapy’ as it reads on the side.” Drew dipped his spoon in and tasted it. “See? I told you ice cream was a cure.”

“
Mmmm, I can definitely see how this could cure anything. Does it take the whole carton to be cured?”

“I sure hope not, I've got a figure to maintain. But I might come close tonight.” I leaned back and propped my feet on the coffee table in front of us.

“So, did your dad call you again?” he asked, going in for another spoonful.

“No, he doesn't know my home number. My mom has it, but he wouldn't think to get it from her, and he won't call me again until next week. When he calls, I'll try not to throw my phone into the
pond... after I get a new one.” I leaned my head against the back of the couch and realized how close I was to Drew. I was hesitant at first to have him here, but it felt nice not to be alone.

I flipped though the channels until I found a documentary on the Discovery channel about the Great Barrier Reef. We watched and ate half the carton of ice cream. It was peaceful and soothing and I could feel my eyelids growing heavy as my head leaned against his shoulder.  We stayed in that position for a while, neither one of us speaking a word, and both content with each other's company. After the show ended, Drew grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “I wanted to ask you something earlier when I saw you outside, but it wasn't the time.”

I sat up straighter, fully awake now. “Sure, what is it?”

“I signed the papers on my art studio this afternoon. It's officially mine!”

“Oh, Drew, that's fantastic!” I squealed, hugging him. “It will be a great help to your art now. I can't wait to see it once you get everything the way you want it.”

“I want you to celebrate with me. Will you come to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “I'd love to. Where do you want to go?”

“I don't know yet,” he laughed, “I wasn't sure you'd say yes, so I haven't thought that far in advance. You did turn me down for lunch the other day.”

“Well, your stunt in front of Tyler didn't put me in the best of moods. But I'm excited for you, so of course, I'd love to go celebrate.”

After we agreed on a time to meet after work tomorrow, he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and covered me with it. “I better go and let you get some rest; it’s getting late.”

“Are you sure? You don't have to go.”

“I should. You need to get some sleep, you look tired.”

“I am tired, but I was enjoying your company.” And I really was. I liked how we could just sit with each other, not saying a word, and feel like it was the best time spent together.

“I do too. We'll have a good time tomorrow night. Try not to let the kids aggravate you too much tomorrow.”

“Thank you for coming over. Let me walk you out.”

“I'll let myself out; you rest.” He moved to stand up, but stopped himself. “Did you read the note?”

I knew exactly what he was referring to. I hoped he wouldn’t bring it up and I could already feel my cheeks heating up. “Yes, I did. Apology accepted. I shouldn't have assumed there was something sarcastic in it. And thanks… thanks for the compliment,” I said, looking down, embarrassed.

Drew lifted my chin up, stretching his fingers across my jaw, and leaned in closer. “I meant it... every word.” He pressed his mouth on mine, kissing me softly. Moving back slightly, he stared into my eyes. I didn't encourage or discourage him, but just gazed back at him, waiting to see if he would continue. Drew's hand slipped down my neck, his fingers wrapping around the back of it as he pulled me closer to him. Our lips met and I sighed against his mouth, letting his tongue slide beside my own. We moved together in a slow rhythmic motion. The tips of his fingers slipped into my hair as he kissed me a little deeper, exploring my mouth before lightly pulling at the bottom of my lip with his teeth.  He tasted sweet, like chocolate, and felt as warm as the sun on a hot summer day. I wanted more and pressed closer to him.

Drew pulled away, breaking the seal of our kiss. “I'm sorry; I've wanted to kiss you,
really
kiss you for a while now. But I shouldn't have done that... not tonight. Not with everything you've got going on. Anyway, I'll let you—”

I grabbed him by the arm to stop him from standing. Cupping his cheek with my hand, I kissed him once on the lips before meeting his eyes. “Don't ever apologize for making me feel better. Thank you for making the rest of my night better than it would have been if I
were alone.”

“I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” He kissed me on the forehead and let himself out.

I stayed on the couch for a while after Drew left and thought about what that kiss might mean for us later… I wasn't sure, but something told me things were changing.

“So where are we going? Did I dress up enough... or too much?” I asked as I scanned my outfit: a khaki skirt and buttoned-up white blouse.

Drew studied me from the driver's seat, his eyes drifting over the length of me. He stopped at my bare legs for a moment before giving me a smile and turning his eyes back on the road. “Oh, I think that'll do. Have you ever been to The Boat House before?”

I shook my head, “No, never heard of it. What is it close to?”

“It's on the other side of Imperial Point, right past the cove.”

“Oh, okay, I've been to Imperial Point. It's a beautiful place.” I didn't want to say with whom I went there and hoped he wouldn't ask.

“I've only painted one picture there, years ago for my mom's doctor. Mom told him how talented I was and he requested a painting. It was a crystal clear day in the springtime when I painted it. You're right; it's a stunning place. I have no idea why, but I haven't been back since.”

“You should go back. I think autumn would be wonderful time to go. October is in a few days. The leaves should start turning soon and all the colors and their reflection off the water would be gorgeous.”

“That does sound amazing. You'll come with me, right?” he grinned.

“Sure,” I said, realizing I'd made future plans with him without any idea where we'd be by then.

We took our seats inside The Boat House and I looked around, assessing the décor. I felt as if I were in a restaurant right at the beach, even though it was only a river. Every seat inside the restaurant viewed the water. It was beautiful and I thought it probably required a reservation, but it didn't.  Everyone was dressed in casual attire and I felt comfortable in my outfit. I looked down at our table, mesmerized by the sand and seashells trapped between two panes of glass. The wood framing it was stained a dark color, and matched the hardwood floors, making the atmosphere warm and inviting. Nautical trinkets hung from the walls, giving it more of an authentic boat vibe.

After our drinks arrived, a margarita for me and a beer for him, we ordered our food and waited. I tucked one leg under the other and settled in for what promised to be an enjoyable night.

“This place is awesome, Drew. Why haven't I heard of it before?”

“I don't know, maybe because it's almost forty-five minutes away. I think unless you've been here before, most people don't really know about it. It's kind of good, I think. Keeps it less crowded that way.”

I nodded and took a sip of my drink. The sugar granules around the rim of the glass mixed with the liquid, creating a sugary-sour mix across my tongue. It was heaven in a glass and I intended to have a couple more before we left.

“So,” Drew started after taking a sip of his Corona, “have you heard from your dad since he called you yesterday?”

“Nope, as I expected I wouldn't.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be; it's a usual occurrence. I should be used to it by now.”

“I know we’re supposed to be respectful to our parents, but sometimes you can only take so much of their trash talking. There comes a point when you have to stand up to them. It’s hard, but I’ve had to do it. ”

“When was the last time you talked to your dad?” I was curious. He hadn't talked about him since the night I walked into his apartment with his mail.

“We talk, but not regularly. He travels around as a sales rep for a pharmaceutical company, so we don't see each other much. He's not really been the same since Mom died. Dad tolerated my love of painting while Mom was around. For her sake, I think. But once she wasn't there to glare at him for deriding my artwork, he didn't hold back. I let it go in one ear and out the other for a while. I got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore and spoke out about it.”

“How is your relationship now?”

“There isn't much of one. When we're together, it's weird and we never know what to say to each other. I know I feel bitter that he left when Mom died, and it irks me that he doesn't understand my love of painting. So really, there's not much to talk about.”

“Maybe you both need to compromise, listen to the other in spite of lacking common ground,” I suggested.

“I don't know. I told him when I moved out that I would find a way to make a living doing what I love, and no matter what, never ask him for support. If painting was the way I chose to make my living, he couldn't do or say anything about it. He lost the right to make my decisions when I moved out and started paying my own bills. I told him if he wanted to lose me and our relationship over my occupation, then that was
his
decision. So now, when we do talk, it’s never about my paintings. But at least, we're talking. Baby steps, I guess. Maybe someday, he'll be interested.” His green eyes glinted off the oil lamp sitting on our table.