Painted Memories (31 page)

“Honey, where are you going?” my mom asked behind me.

I glanced at her, but kept walking. “Not now, Mom. I need to get out of this house before I break your fine china. Make sure you tell Dad to stay out of my way when I come back and things will go a lot smoother.”

“Lilly...”

I kept walking, out the door and through the backyard. The sun was warm on my face, a bit mild for this late in the fall season. Until the cold snap came, fall seemed to be a mixture of the other three seasons. One day it could be eighty degrees, the next in the mid-forties. It was best to dress for spring and always carry a jacket. I set my sights on the pond off in the distance. Once a popular hangout spot for Jesse and our friends, we spent many days and nights goofing off on the pier and swimming.

The end of the dock split into a Y-shape. The right side was used as a platform for fishing, sunbathing or lounging around, and the left side led to a small gazebo. I walked to the covered structure. Painted bright white with eight thick columns, giving its perimeter a perfect hexagonal shape, it was roomy. Jesse and our friends covered the floor with sleeping bags whenever Mom would let us camp out during the summer months. It was fully screened from top to bottom, with a picket fence railing halfway to the floor that wrapped all the way around.

I slumped down on the wicker chair and forced myself to think about anything but what just happened at the house. I rested my head on the back of the chair and closed my eyes, content only to concentrate on the rustle of the leaves in the light breeze and the birds that chirped as they flew around. “Lilly!” I heard my father yell out and my eyes flew open. I looked back toward the house to see my dad walking through the yard, with my mom behind him, and Drew standing on the back porch.

“Jonathan, get back inside and leave her alone. She'll talk to you when she's ready,” my mom yelled.

There'd be no talking today. I jumped up and hurried down the other side of the pier. Hopping in the small rowboat tied to the end of the dock, I nearly fell in when I stretched to unwind the rope around the hook. Pushing off the edge, I stuck the oars in the water and paddled out towards the middle of the pond. I grinned, staring out at my father as he stood at the edge of the water.

“I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Lilly.” he yelled, shielding his eyes from the sun. No doubt, the burning rays were killing his hangover.

Perfect.
Shine on, sun, shine on.

Once I made it out to the far end of the pond, I pulled the oars inside the boat and gave my father one last look. He stood at the edge with his arms crossed over his chest. Mom turned around and started walking back to the house and Drew... he was nowhere in sight. My stomach sunk as I thought he probably used that moment to jump into
his car and head back home.

I couldn't blame him.

Sighing, I lay back in the boat and made myself comfortable. The sun was warm on my skin, and the breeze light enough to keep my face from feeling hot. I closed my eyes, taking in the peace and quiet around me.

Being patient was a virtue my father didn't possess, and I could float out here forever, if I had to.

I woke up to the chill of the cool air on my skin and rested for a moment before rubbing the goose bumps that spread across my arms. It wasn't my intention to fall asleep, but the warmth of the sun and my sleep deprivation told my body otherwise. Turning my head to the right, wispy clouds floated above the tree line, filling the horizon in a pale orange and shell-pink glow. It was stunning and I thought how beautifully Drew could draw it in one of his paintings, given the chance. Night fell and blanketed the sky in navy blue silk, while white pinholes pricked its fabric, allowing twinkling lights to escape through the holes.

I bolted upright when the boat rammed into something hard with a “thud!” I saw that I had somehow managed to drift back into the pier. Stranger still, a rope anchored the front of my boat to a hook on the dock. I peered up to see Drew sitting cross-legged at the edge, watching me.

“Hey,” he sighed, his elbows leaning on his thighs.

“Hi.”

“Sleep well?” he asked.

I thought about it for a moment. My back was a bit stiff, but other than that, I did. “Actually yes, I didn't mean to fall asleep though.”

“Well, you must have needed it then. Are you hungry?”

I was ravenous. “A little,” I said, not wanting to seem too eager.

Drew grinned, the corners of his lips turned up slightly as he raised his brow. He knew I was lying. He stood up and walked over to the ladder, where he squatted down and reached out for my hand. Getting up slowly, the boat started rocking from side to side as I grabbed his hand. The more I moved, the more the boat rocked, and I had to leap onto the ladder before I looked like a klutzy moron and tumbled in.

I regained my bearings once on the dock and arched my back. Sleeping in the bottom of a boat wasn’t the best idea. Drew's fingers twisted around mine and he nudged me down the pier to follow him. Under the gazebo, a couple of folded blankets lay on a table, along with a bag and a thermos. He led me to the wicker chair and released my hand for me to sit. Picking up the blanket, he wrapped it around my shoulders and I snuggled into its softness and warmth on my arms.

“Where did you get all of this?” I asked.

“Your mom was very helpful.”

I bet she was. Thinking of her reminded me of my dad and his sudden demand that I listen to his every word.
Fat chance. “Where's my father?”

Drew grabbed the bag from the table and reached inside. “You're mom convinced him to leave the house for a bit. She made him take her to dinner and maybe a movie so that we could spend some time together... to talk.” He glanced up at me briefly before pulling his hand out of the bag. He handed me a tinfoil-wrapped square that felt cool in my hands.

“She did what? But they aren't even together anymore. What about Earl?”

Drew shrugged. “I don't know. They have history together—your mom and dad—I'm sure it's normal they still spend time together. They are still your parents, after all. Earl will just have to get over it, I guess. Let them worry about it.”

Unwrapping the square, my mouth watered and I sighed as I bit into a thick ham and mayo sandwich.

“Sorry, it's just a sandwich.”

“It's perfect. Thank you.”

After we finished our sandwiches, Drew picked up the thermos, filled two plastic cups, and handed me one. It was warm and I sipped carefully when I brought the cup to my lips. Warm chocolate mocha filled my mouth and heated my body as I swallowed. I smiled and leaned back into the chair, reveling in the comfort.

We drank in silence, neither of us really knowing what to say. He sat in the chair across from me, and we both gazed out at the darkening sky as a crescent moon rose beyond the treetops. I was happy he was here, but for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. At times, he seemed to only be an observer in my crazy world; and other times, he seemed compelled to make a snide comment here or there when I blew up over something. I probably deserved the comments, but if he didn't care either way, why did he bother staying here? What was in it for him? Amusement? I had to ask, there was no way around it.

I set my cup on the table in an effort to prepare myself for whatever came next. “Why are you still here?” I asked.

Drew sighed and kept staring out at the stars. “I've wondered the same thing at times.”

“You're being nice to me, why?”

“I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well, you shouldn't.”

He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

I shook my head. “I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I'm damaged goods, Drew. I have way too much baggage.”

Drew fixed me with a pointed stare. “It's not the baggage that's the problem. It's how you and the people in your life carry it. That's usually how it works in a relationship... most relationships anyway.”

“Why can't you just yell at me—like everyone else? It’s okay if you want to, I'm a big girl. I can handle it. No need to restrain yourself.”

“Yelling does nothing and it's unnecessary,” he stated it simply, as if it were a known fact.

I stood up and started pacing back and forth between our chairs. I didn't know what it was. I felt like he was letting me off too easy. It couldn't be that simple. Six months from now—if we were still together—something would happen and all the strife from the last couple of days would be dredged up. I didn't want that. It was better to go ahead and get it all out in the open.

“So yelling at you in front of your friends and colleagues was okay?” I asked. “Running away and accusing you of leaving me was okay too?”

He shrugged his shoulders again. “It happened. I've chosen to let it go. You're going through a lot right now. It's understandable.”

Damn him for his acceptance. I wanted to see some emotion from him. If he cared, why didn't he show it? Just being here wasn't good enough. “Well, if
you’re so understanding about everything so far, what's up with all your snide comments?”

Drew didn't speak for a moment. He stood and moseyed over to the far side of the gazebo, leaning against the rail that faced the water. “I'm not perfect either, or so it seems.”

Damn straight he wasn't. “I didn't say you had to be, but you didn't just 'let things go' either. Can you imagine how I felt when I came into the kitchen this morning and saw you making casual conversation with my father? Have you forgotten how he treated me over the last five years?”

He turned toward me, his face shadowed with the moon behind him. “We had words yet still managed to be as nice as possible to each other.”

What started as a decent conversation turned into something else entirely. It was pointless to talk to him about anything. The anger was boiling through me. “Yeah, the laughter coming from your mouth told me you were having a grand time. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he slapped the shit out of me. I guess you just forgot about that part, huh?” Fat, hot tears flooded my eyes and I quickly turned to walk away.

Drew's hand clamped around my upper arm and he spun me around. His eyes were fierce when he spoke. “If you think for a
second that sitting across from your dickhead father was easy, then you don't know me at all. Making light conversation while pretending to tolerate him wasn't exactly how I chose to spend my morning.”

I winced as his fingers pinched my arm and he released his hold. “I thought you two—” I managed to mumble.

“What? Did you think we were discussing dinner arrangements? Telling knock-knock jokes? You're sadly mistaken. You've got a real bad habit of jumping to conclusions, don't you?” he said more as a statement than a question.

It was my fault. I shouldn't have said anything. “I'm sorry; I shouldn't have presumed to know what your conversation was about.”

Drew took a step closer and I moved back. Deja vu flashed through my mind and I remembered when he confronted me in my classroom.

When I didn't say anything else, he continued. “You expected me to drop you like dead weight. I had sex with you, you said you loved me. Well, you can't love someone you don’t trust and I'm wondering if what you said was just bullshit.”

“Trust? What are you talking about? I never said I didn't trust you.”

“You didn't have to say anything. I guess that's the point, right? I mean, you obviously couldn't trust me enough to tell me you were driving the car.”

He had to be joking. “Seriously? I didn't lie to you, I only omitted one of the details.”

“You're missing the point,” he sighed. “I understand your reasoning, but if you loved me like you say you do, you should have known, without a shadow of
doubt, that I'd be here for you; but you didn't give me the chance.”

“You're right. I didn't. Excuse me for not announcing I killed my brother on your doorstep. I'm sure that would have made things ten times easier, right?” I was getting sarcastic now. Drew really knew how to push my buttons.

“It doesn't matter anymore, what's done is done. Fact is, you didn't have to tell me anything if you didn't want to. I've never had to go through something so horrific, so I couldn't complain about
my
feelings.”

I gasped at his comment.
“Feelings? Really? I wouldn't know. You've never said what you feel for me. It’s pity... pity is why you're still here. You don't want to kick me while I'm down, so you'll wait until everything's blown over, and
then
you'll dump me.” I closed my eyes briefly, feeling a warm tear slide down my cheeks. “People have been pitying me since Jesse died. I sure as hell don't need you doing it.”

His hand grabbed my shirt and he pressed me against one of the columns. “Wake the hell up, Lilly! I'm still here because I care. When will you realize there is someone here who loves every part of you— inside and out? Nothing else matters to me! I
want
to be here for you, no matter the circumstances. Even if it means listening to your father for two hours on how he royally screwed up his life. Or how he ruined his family and lost both of his children.”