STROKED LONG (6 page)

“I don’t know anything about painting,” Bodi states, clearly not as excited about the idea as Eva.

“You don’t need to know anything,” she counters. “You just need to know your different strokes. God, I can’t believe I didn’t think about this. We can use the stroked pictures as high-ticket items to really generate some profit. Hell, right about now I would pay a decent price for Bodi’s swimming to be plastered against a canvas. I’m sure long-time fans with heavy pockets would feel the same way.”

Bodi turns to Eva and says, “What would I have to do? Would you help me?”

Cringing slightly, Eva says, “I will be out of town, Bodi, but I know Ruby wouldn’t mind stepping in. Literally, you would just make swimming motions against a canvas while your arms are painted.”

“It will be really simple,” I step in. “We can even do different variations based on how you feel.”

“What kind of variations?” he asks, his eyes peeking up at me past the brim of his hat.

“Well, we can paint the upper half of your body, position you in a swim pose and then press you against the canvas. We can paint you, lay you on the canvas, and have you make motions, maybe using different hues. Or, we can even give you paintbrushes that are dripping with paint, lean you over a canvas and have you stroke above it, making splatters of paint on the canvas.”

“I like all of those ideas!” Eva cheers. “The last one would be a fun one to do with the kids. We could use those canvases for the gala as well.”

“Fantastic idea,” I say, feeling really invigorated about this idea.

Eva and I are discussing color schemes when Bodi chimes in by clearing his throat. We both stop our chatter and turn to him. “We could call it Pennies for Paint STROKES. Keep the word stroke all capital.”

Eva and I turn to each other just in time to see both our faces light with glee. “Brilliant!” Eva shouts, drawing attention to our table.

I’m impressed, really impressed actually. I turn to tell Bodi what a fantastic name it is, and I’m surprised to see him looking at me. His face is still half hidden beneath his cap, but I see just the smallest of grins on his face. If I hadn’t looked at that very moment, I would have missed it, because he barely made a motion with his lips.
Stunning. And he was looking at me. Smiling.
That
little tweak I was able to catch makes all the difference in my day. It has gone from humdrum to extraordinary.
Bodi Banks smiled at me.

BODI

“How’s your week been?” Dr. Auburn asks, holding his pen over his notepad, poised and ready to take notes.

“Eventful,” I answer, staring at my hands in my lap.

Therapy, even though it’s the right thing for me to do, is awful. I hate the sessions. Every time I talk to Dr. Auburn, a wave of anxiety takes over my entire body and all I want to do is flee, run for my damn life until the pain eases in my chest.

But that’s not an option.

I go to therapy not because I want to, and not because I feel like it’s helping, but because Eva has begged and pleaded with me to go.

Has there been a change in my behavior over the past ten years of seeing Dr. Auburn—yes, ten years? Maybe. I still feel the pain of my parents’ death every day. I still carry the weight of their murder on my shoulders, and even though I’ve controlled some of my tendencies to help me function on an everyday level and compete in swimming, I still have obsessions that are not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Eventful? Well, that’s a different word that I’m used to you saying.”

Pinching my palm with my right hand, a nervous tick I have, I answer honestly, “We are starting a new foundation for the Boys and Girls Club. Eva has put me in charge along with someone else.”

“A new journey, how does that make you feel?”

“Nervous, anxious, out of control,” I answer. It’s the same feeling I have every time something new comes around. The unknown is the scariest feeling I will ever face. I know I can’t predict the future or see too far into it, but if I was given a superhuman strength, that would be mine, so I could prepare for the battle I’m about to face. Nothing makes me shiver more than facing something new and unfamiliar.

“All the regular trepidations you face. Are you writing it down in your journal? How you’re feeling?”

“No.” I fucking hate that piece-of-shit journal. It serves no purpose other than make me want to chuck it against the wall.

“Why not?”

“I don’t see how it helps. I just end up writing the same sentence three times in a row because I’m fucked up in the head.”

Threes. It’s how I live my life and when I’m stressed and anxious, the way I conduct my life in threes weighs heavy on me. Unlock my car three times, pat myself dry after I get out of the pool three times, change in and out of my suit three times, do an exercise three times. It’s delayed my life but I’ve learned to accommodate, my coach has helped with that.

“What have we talked about when you start doing repetitions? Have you assessed your mental status when you start doing everything in threes?”

I’m not fucking stupid. I know when my repetition kicks in, when I’m stressed, anxious, and scared of the unknown. Jesus, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But what’s killing me recently, all three have weighed heavily on me thanks to the upcoming games and this new project Eva started, causing me to pick up on repetition.

“I know when I do it. I’m aware the kind of anxiety I have right now, but there is no way I can calm it. The games are coming up and working with someone else on this project is new. It . . .” I pause for a second as I try to think about my feelings. I continue to pinch my palm, now doing short bursts of threes. “It terrifies me.”

Dr. Auburn makes a note as he nods his head. “Does the new endeavor terrify you, or does working with someone else terrify you?”

Does a quirky blonde with brown-rimmed glasses and the inability to stop talking terrify me?

More than I care to admit.

“Working with someone else.”

“Okay.” He nods. “Have you met this person yet?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Auburn lifts his head and looks at me over his glasses. Pushing them up his nose and then carefully folding his hands on top of each other, he gives me a questioning once over. “Care to talk about this person? Is it a girl?”

He gets straight to the point. I should have known better.

“It is a girl.” I clear my throat, reminding myself I’m in a safe place and talking to Dr. Auburn is a good thing, and he’s not here to judge. “Her name is Ruby Hearts. She’s friends with my sister.”

“Friends with Eva? Does that give you comfort?”

“More comfort than if it was a random person that has no connection to my family, but I still feel . . . uncomfortable.”

“Why are you uncomfortable?”

I sigh and pull on the brim of my hat, trying to not lash out at Dr. Auburn. “I’m not comfortable working closely with people I don’t know. I don’t want them to notice . . .” I trail off, not wanting to admit the rest of what I was about to say.

“You don’t want her to notice your ticks?”

Bingo!

It’s bad enough I have poor social skills. I don’t need Ruby seeing all the little idiosyncrasies that make me who I am.

There are characteristics in every human that make them unique, that separate us from all being the same person in this world full of life. For example, Ruby is quirky, smiley, excited about every new adventure. At least she seems like she is. Those are all positive qualities. Me? I count, I clean, I become paranoid over every little thing. To me, those are ugly characteristics, ones that drive people away, not closer.

Why would I want someone to get close enough to find that out?

When
it
first happened, my friends tried to be kind. Their parents were kind. My teachers were kind. Everyone was fucking
kind.
I didn't deserve
kind.
It was all my fault. They all should have been angry at me.
I was angry.
I couldn't talk to them. And eventually, they weren't kind anymore. I would hear their words about me.
Freak. Loser.
And when I just got better and better at swimming, those taunts grew more vicious.
Arrogant. Bastard. Self-righteous.
Asshole Bodi Stoneman Banks. Frozen heart. Made sense.
I didn't deserve their kindness. I still don't.
It was all my fault.
Why would anyone want to get close to that?

“I’m not really a prize to be won or anything,” I say honestly.

Yes, I might be one of the most decorated Olympic swimmers in history, but by no means am I a normal functioning human behind the façade the public thinks they know. I’ve been able to train my mind for situations such as interviews and training kids at the pool because it’s a scenario I’m used to. I just put my brain on autopilot and do what I need to do, but new scenarios, new people, new . . . feelings, those are things I can’t possibly handle without showing my true colors.

“That’s not positive self-talk, Bodi,” Dr. Auburn reminds me. “Is Ruby someone you want to impress? From your inflection, it sounds like maybe she is.”

Feelings for a woman? Now this is territory I most definitely don’t want to get into. It’s actually something I don’t ever really want to think about; I can’t mentally afford to think about such a thing. To bring someone else into my life, to worry about them just as much as I worry about Eva and Lauren, I don’t think my heart could take it.

But then . . .

I can’t keep those big brown eyes out of my head.

“What do you think about curtains?” I ask, ignoring Dr. Auburn’s question.

“Pardon me?” he asks, a little thrown from my question.

“Curtains.” I rub my palms on my jeans. “Are they a necessity?”

Dr. Auburn takes off his glasses and studies me, probably trying to read my train of thought. I glance up quickly but then look back down, not wanting to give anything away.

Pointing at me with his glasses, he says, “You’re deflecting. I’m going to take it that Ruby means something to you but you’re not quite ready to admit it.”

My heart starts to beat faster in my chest, my breath hitches in my throat, and I can feel panic start to ensue me. “She means nothing,” I say quickly, rubbing my palms harder on my jeans. “She’s just someone I have to work with.”

Sensing my anxiety, Dr. Auburn sets his notepad down and leans forward, his elbows on his thighs and kindness in his eyes. “Breathe through this, Bodi. Take deep, long breaths. Steady that racing heart and calm your nerves. I don’t want to upset you, but I want you to notice and learn from your reactions right now. Your heart rate is elevated, your breathing is heavy, your palms are sweaty; what is that telling you?”

“That I’m about to have a panic attack.”

“Good. Now, I’ve known you for quite a long time,” he talks in a very soothing voice, a voice he only uses when I’m on the verge of teetering into a panic attack. “Whenever you’re like this, it’s because I’ve hit a soft spot with you, a topic you’re not comfortable talking about just yet, one you’re not ready to open up about. I get that. Talking about someone new is hard, quite difficult for you actually, but it’s important to recognize that Ruby does seem to be a trigger for you. Can you agree with me on that statement?”

Hating that he’s right, but knowing I need to acknowledge him, I nod my head.

“May I ask a few very simple questions to help with talking about her? If you start to get anxious again, we can stop, but I would really like to work through this with you. Is that okay?”

I nod again, my breathing starting to even out.

“Thank you. Tell me, what color is her hair?”

“Blonde.” It’s a simple question to answer, one that eases me some more.

“What color are her eyes?”

“Brown with some gold.”

“Sounds pretty. What does she do?”

“Um, works at the Boys and Girls Club.”

“Nice. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” I shrug. Not really sure where he’s going with this line of questioning.

Can he just get this over with so I can leave?

“Is she nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Funny?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, starting to get irritated. I shift in my seat, and Dr. Auburn must notice my nervousness because he sits back and takes a quick note on his pad.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Sure.”

“The curtains. Does that question have anything to do with Ruby?”

I think back to when Ruby was in my condo, surveying my space. She wasn’t judgmental, more observational than anything, taking in her surroundings. I’ve never been one to decorate a house. I use it as a space to live in. You know that saying:
a house is built with boards and beams, a home is built with love and dreams.
I have a house, not a home.

But there is something that stuck with me when Ruby was visiting, something I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Curtains are a “protective shield” to her. Protection, safety, invisibility, that’s what I strive for when I’m in my condo. She struck a chord with me.

Should I have curtains?

Would she appreciate my place more if I had curtains?

What would she say if she saw them?

Why do I care?

“Bodi,” Dr. Auburn presses, catching me from falling too deep into thought.

“Um, yeah. Sort of. Just thinking of doing some remodeling.” The lie is so blatant, Dr. Auburn starts chuckling as he shifts in his seat, causing a very light smile to tickle my lips.

“Okay, good to know.”

***

This is way too complicated, and I’m pretty sure people are taking pictures of me. Or maybe that’s just me being paranoid.

Probably the latter.

I have three different kinds of curtain rods in my arms, all different sizes because I came to Target on an impulse and didn’t measure any window in my condo. After I left Dr. Auburn’s office, I told myself I needed to get toilet paper so I drove to Target, knowing in the back of my mind I had no intention of picking up toilet paper thanks to the stockpile I have in my linen closet. I always have three stacks of three waiting to be used.