Painted Memories (2 page)

“Sorry. I
don't
do snakes. School prank. I've never been the same since.” He hid a grin pretty well, but not well enough that I didn’t catch the corner of his lip turning up slightly before he looked back at me with a straight face.

“Oh, I see. Sounds like an interesting story.”

Jenny Newcomb. Seventh grade. When she slipped the snake in my locker to scare me as a prank, it backfired and bit my hand. She was expelled and it took my classmates two years to stop teasing me about it. My fear of snakes was etched in stone forever.

“Nope, not that interesting.
I can take most anything; but show me a snake, and we're done.”

“Oh! Well, I can assure you I don't have any snakes.” Drew held up his hands, “Tragedy averted.”

He had a warm smile. Deep dimples pierced his cheeks in a way that made you want to smile back immediately when you saw them. His eyes appeared bright green in the sunlight. The landscape around us emphasized that more vibrantly than any other pair of green eyes I had ever seen before. Beads of sweat prickled his brow, while his hair, a dark, sandy-blond, almost brown, lay wet and flat against his head. He wore a thin, white tee shirt, which was now dotted with brown spots, all thanks to my panic-stricken fit in the pond. I didn't dare look at myself. I knew I was hideous and I didn't want to show my embarrassment even more by letting him see my reaction.

“Oh crap, your shirt.” I reached for it, but pulled my hand back before I touched his chest. “I'm really sorry about that. Can I buy you a new one?”

“What? No, of course not. It's nothing the washing machine can't get out. I'm dirty anyway.” He held out his hands to show an array of colored paints sprinkled across his fingers. “I paint for a living, so I've always got something on me.” Turning his wrist over, he glanced at his watch. “Oh crap, I've got to run. I'm expecting an important phone call any minute. I'm sorry, but I’ve got to head back.”

“Oh, okay. Well, thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it. Maybe I'll just stick with the gym from now on.”

He stood up, and his jogging pants were wet where I pressed against him. “I don't know. The gym can be a dangerous place too,” he grinned. “Next time, stay on the track. Those tree roots will leap up and grab you every time. I don't want to have to jump in there next time to get you out.”

I laughed. He wouldn't have to worry about rescuing me again. I'd be sure not to walk that close to the pond again.

“See you around, Lilly,” he said, over his shoulder as he walked away.

Yeah, right. He was going to avoid me like the plague.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror behind my bedroom door, I marveled at the mess that peered back at me. I might have looked better if I had rolled around in the dirt first. Not only were my
clothes disgusting, but my hair was matted down, and a darker brown than the lighter shade it was supposed to be. My mascara was smeared, making my blue eyes look like a rabid raccoon. My thin top stuck tightly to my skin, which I'm sure gave Drew more of a show than I realized during our encounter.

I've been here for three months and the first person I have a conversation with has to pull me out of a pond.
Classy, Lilly, real classy.

Reading over my lesson plan on the treadmill wasn't half as difficult as it was trying to grade papers. Lesson learned. Obviously, physical coordination wasn't my strong suit, made pretty apparent when I tried walking the track at my apartment a couple days ago. It was the reason I decided to go to the gym rather than risk falling in the pond again. Since today was technically supposed to be a teacher's workday, I already spent some time preparing this week's lessons; but I had to think of an art activity for the kids to work on since we still didn't have an art teacher.

The gym wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. For some reason, I had a preconceived notion that only young, skinny, stuck-up, beautiful women would be here. Right beside the typical, egotistical, drop dead gorgeous men, who believed they were precious gifts from God for the female population. I was wrong. This place seemed quite neutral. People of all shapes and sizes worked out here, which instantly made me feel more comfortable since I wasn't perfect by any means. I could actually envision myself coming more often. There seemed to be plenty of workout classes to choose from, just like the one I could see across the room to the left. It was filled with people in peaceful meditation for a yoga class. Probably something I could benefit from…
A way to clear my mind after a hectic day.

A racquetball game was going on in the room on my right. I could see two people darting back and forth, trying their best to hit a ball as it bounced off the walls... That was one game I'd skip. The
room directly in front of me was enclosed in glass. It was slightly smaller than the others, but held all the weights and equipment. Only two guys shared this room, and it looked as if the young, attractive, blond-haired guy was doing most of the talking. He demonstrated each machine before letting the older man try it out, while he stood by and watched. He obviously worked here, a trainer, I guessed. It didn't matter who he was, he was hot any way you looked at him. There was something about him. I didn't know if it was the wildness of his spiky hair, or maybe the way he carried himself. His chest was slightly puffed out, his broad shoulders back, and he stood up tall and rigid in a confident manner. Maybe working out here wouldn't be so bad if I was able to watch him during it. It was the perfect motivation.

“Scrumptious, isn't he?”

I glanced to my right and saw another woman walking on the treadmill beside me. She was short. Her orange-red hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head. When she smiled, I could see reddish freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. “Excuse me,” I asked, not sure whom she was referring to.

“The guy over there,” she said, pointing to the room across from us. “I've been coming here for about a week now. He's always helping someone. I'm pretty sure he works here, which is even better,” she said. “It gives us something to look at. He's too damn hot not to look.”

I stared back at him. Yeah, he was seriously hot. No doubt about that. “So you've only been coming here a week?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yep.
So far I've accomplished a week. We'll see how long it lasts. I made it three days the first time, so I've already beaten my previous goal. I'm on a roll,” she snickered. “What about you? I don't think I've seen you around.”

“Oh, except for the day I signed up three months ago, this is my first visit. A particularly good one at that,” I said, peeping over at the mystery guy again.

“Well, my goal is to come during the week after work, so if you come about the same time, we can chat. I hear it helps to have a workout buddy. If I know you're coming, it will make me feel obligated to come too.”

“That sounds like a great idea. I don't really know anyone around town except my students, and hanging out with a bunch of ten-year-olds isn't much fun. I appreciate any adult conversations in my life after spending most my time with them.”

“Ahh, you're a teacher?”

“Yep.”

“And look... you still have all your hair!” She laughed, “You haven't been teaching long, I take it?”

I touched my hands to my hair, as if to make sure it was still there. Grinning, I said, “Yeah, it's still there, but I don't know for how long. School's only been in session for a month, and some days, I feel like I'm going to pull it all out.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, “I've been teaching high school kids for three years now. Some days, I'm surprised I haven't been committed to a mental institution yet.”

“Really?
That bad? Where do you teach? I don't know many of the teachers here yet. Most are older. They're friendly, but busy. Sometimes they seem a little too busy to bother talking to me.”

She nodded her head. “I know how the new teacher thing is. Most teachers have known each other for a long time. There's a bonding that forms throughout the year. It may take a little time, but you'll get pulled into the pack. I teach over at Maplewood High.
You?”

“Maplewood Elementary.”
I was shocked to meet someone so similar to myself. And out of all the places, at the gym.

“That's very cool. We'll have to plan on doing this more often. I've got a few years' experience under my belt. I can tell you all sorts of horror stories.”

Something told me I didn't want to know. I always wanted to be a teacher for as long as I could remember. It was a game I used to play with my brother when I was kid. I was the teacher handing out all the homework, and grading papers. As I got older, and entered high school, I started volunteering at the elementary school, tutoring the kids, and soon realized it was all I wanted to do. I loved being with them, helping them achieve the smallest of tasks. It probably wasn't in my best interest to hear her stories.

“Oh, I don't know if that is such a good idea, seeing how it's my first year. I may need to skip those stories and let you fill me on the light-hearted ones.”

“Sure, I've got a bunch of those too. It’s the most rewarding job I’ve ever had, but you will have those days that make you question why the crap you’ve chosen teaching as a career.” The woman looked at her watch and turned the machine off, then stood still on top of the treadmill. “First year, huh?”

“Yep.
I got lucky with the position though. They needed someone last minute to fill in for about six months. The teacher whose spot I took had some kind of medical emergency. I'm not sure what I'll do when she's ready to come back. Hopefully, they'll keep me on, or maybe I can find another opening somewhere else. If not, I'll have to move back to Canyon Falls with my parents.”

“At least you've got somewhere to go.”

“Yeah.” And she was right; I did have somewhere to go. Whether I
would
go was the question. Then again, being homeless wasn’t out of the question.

She hopped off the treadmill. “Well, I better get going. I've still got papers to grade before my dinner date.”

“Ohh, are you giving up on Mr. Scrumptious over there?”

She giggled. “Ha! Someone like that wouldn't go for something like this,” she said pointing at herself. “
Which is why I'll be here every day from now on. You'd probably be more his type than I would anyway,” she winked. “Besides, I'm sure there are about ten other guys that I can drool over while I do my time on the treadmill.”

I laughed, “Don't kid yourself, you look just fine”. She wasn't toothpick-thin, but healthy looking with a bit of meat on her bones. I figured it was her short height that made her look a bit bigger than she really was. “Name's Lilly,” I said holding my hand out to her, “maybe we'll catch each other in here again. Then we can drool together.”

She laughed and shook my hand. “I'm Andrea. And absolutely! I'll be here tomorrow, about four-thirty, after class. If you're here, find me. It's always nice to kill time. Makes working out not so bad.”

With that, she walked away. If felt nice to finally talk to someone my own age. Not that the older women I worked with were hard to talk to, but there's something about having someone
you can relate to. Andrea was right about one thing, time did pass faster when you didn't realize the work you were putting your body though. I might have only been walking, but when you don't do it every day, you still get tired. I hopped off the treadmill and decided to change and shower when I got home, instead of using the gym's facilities.

Walking to my car, I breathed in the hot air and it made me thankful I decided to come to the gym instead of enduring the heat to exercise at the apartment track. Passing several rows of cars, I finally found my own. “Damn it!” I said out loud. I kicked the flat tire on my run-down Toyota Corolla. The last time it happened, I was getting ready to move here. Thankfully, my parents owned the best of everything and knew everyone in town, so I didn't have to worry about how or when I'd get my car fixed. Car parts were expensive, and I couldn't afford them on my own, especially if I needed major work done. Mom wanted to buy me a new car before I left home, but I refused. Not that my refusal did much good. I compromised by letting her buy the parts instead.

Theoretically, I'd seen it done several times, but watching someone change a tire didn't give me any confidence. After pulling the jack parts out of my trunk, I put the wrench on the lug nut and twisted the wrench to crack the seal, but it wouldn't budge. I tried standing up and pressing down, in hopes of getting a better angle on it, but nothing. Not even pushing it down with my foot did any good.

“Excuse me, ma'am?”

I nearly fell over backward hearing someone's voice behind me.

“Oh sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You need to use the jack first, or all that work you're doing will be for nothing”

I looked up. Holy freaking crap. It was the guy I was staring at while on the treadmill. Except now, he had changed from his tee shirt and running shorts into a pressed, collared shirt and dark navy blue jeans. His hair was wet and spiked on the top of his head. I found myself speechless as I mentally appraised his appearance. I'd have to tell Andrea if I saw her tomorrow. He looked like one of those Calvin Klein underwear models, except he had all his clothes on.