The Anomaly (4 page)

“Wow,” I say.

“I always felt that that was no way for a man, a
real
man, to treat his family. I didn’t have to be an adult to know that. Then when my mom died, my world crashed.”

I hear pain in Nathan’s voice. His words drop slowly like heavy rocks. “When did your mom pass?” I furrow my eyebrows, concentrating on what he’s about to say and hoping, in a strange way, that her death wasn’t too recent. In middle school, a close friend of mine died, and I remember the confusion and the raw sadness I felt at the time. My parents even considered putting me on short-term medication, but they chose not to. I got better, little by little, with the passing of time. But that was middle school and a different situation. This is his mother.

“Eight years ago,” Nathan says softly. “I think my anger over how my dad treated her before they went their separate ways always remained in me. It didn’t boil to the surface until after she was gone.”

I sigh and cross my legs. It’s hard hearing what he went through.

“It’s so hard to forgive him. And he was busy.” Nathan snorts. “He became more successful after he left us.” I don’t know what to say to him. I try to think of something, but then he talks. “It’s only now that I’m trying to work through things with him and move on f. After all, how things went down can’t be changed.”

––––––––

I
sit on the ottoman in my dad’s office, leafing through a clothing catalogue from last Christmas. Dad sits behind his desk; his glasses perched on his nose, looking at documents. His office is pretty organized. One wall is all book shelves with various business books. He has a desk, a sofa, and a fan.

Dad picks up a stack of files and taps them on his desk to even out the bundle. He sighs. “I’m behind on my work.” 

His eyes fall on a box to the right of the telephone. Inside the box is a stack of envelopes. I’m not sure if there’s anything in them.

“I normally send out a letter to my clients each summer around this time,” Dad says. “But as you can see, I still need to mail them off. Do you mind going to the post office and dropping them off for me? I’ll give you the money for the proper postage.”

“No problem.” I bend a page in the catalogue to mark a beautiful red dress, then I get up and put the catalogue back inside the ottoman. I point at my resting spot. “I’ve got to get one of these things.”

Dad nods. “Yes, the handy ottoman. Great to sit on and to store stuff in. That’s what I’ll call efficient furniture.”

I chuckle and pick up the box of envelopes. “I’ll be back.”

“Thanks, Shayna.”

At the post office, I sigh and stand in line, estimating that about eleven people are ahead of me. I huff again.
This is really snail mail
. I consider going across the street to grab a donut. For some reason, I’ve been craving them. Since my next modeling gig isn’t for a few weeks, I’m determined to treat myself. I usually eat a combination of healthy food and what I want on the weekends—in moderation. Since I got to Missouri, I’ve thrown in an extra splurge item on a weekday too. I peek behind me, tempted to go for the donut and orange juice, but two more people have joined the line, so I stay put.

The line moves quickly despite my initial fear of waiting for a long time. Soon enough, I’ve handed the envelopes to a postal worker, taken the receipt, and finished my errand. I stuff the receipt in my purse and look through it for some breath mints before I hear what sounds like a cat call.

Someone is whistling at me.

I frown and look up for the source of this animal behavior. William leans against a counter at the back of the post office. He smiles at me. He’s wearing another baseball hat. This one’s red.
He must have a bald spot.

“It’s nice to see you, Shayna.” He leans forward, but his eyes remain steady on my face, before he stands tall.

I nod.

“Can I have a minute of your time please?”

What for?
I scrunch my eyebrows.

He holds his pointer finger and thumb apart a little. “Just a minute or two, please.”

I hesitate to talk to him.
What does he want from me?
But I walk toward him, slightly curious about what he’ll say.

“How’s it going so far?”

“Huh?”

He chuckles and scratches behind his ear. “I know you’re new to the area. People in Pier Park tend to know each other, even if it’s only by face.”

“Actually, I’m originally from here,” I say defensively. The second the words are out of my mouth, I wonder why I’m explaining myself to a stranger.

“Oh, is that right?” William chuckles. “Well, I guess I made the right call the first time I saw you. You seem like a nice enough young lady.”

What does he want?
My stomach rumbles, and I put on a serious expression. Modeling’s taught me how to take on many personas, and William’s small talk seems like a waste of time.

“I’ve caught glances of Nathan and you about town,” William says. “I’ve kept my distance though. But I’m hoping maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“To me?” I’m a bit confused. I press my lips a little more firmly together. I’m not sure I should be having this conversation with William.

“Yes. Maybe you can talk to Nathan about selling me back the painting.”

“Oh.” My eyes widen. This man has actually stopped me about the art piece. “Listen”—I stick out my hands—“I know nothing about the painting. I’ve never even seen it.”

That seems like news to William. “Really? Nathan hasn’t shown it to you?”

I wipe sweat from my forehead. The door to the post office is open, inviting the humidity of the hot summer day inside. I shake my head. “I don’t have to see it.”

“Of course you do,” William declares.

I look away and clear my throat. “I’m sure I could see it if I wanted to, but it’s Nathan’s property. He can show it to me whenever he wants.”

William looks at me squarely. “Well... maybe I read you wrong.”

I’m ready to go. “Well, take care.” I start walking away.

William steps in my path and stretches out his hand. “Wait, that didn’t come across right. I apologize.” He gives me a slight bow just like he did the day I met him. His eyes stay averted. “I’m just becoming worn out asking Nathan for this painting. It’s rightfully mine anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

William smiles. “Nathan bought the painting from my ex-wife. We hadn’t been divorced for that long―maybe about four months—when she had that tacky garage sale.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Let’s get real here; no one who lives on Cascadia Avenue has a yard sale.” William shakes his head at the thought. “But she did it, and sold my mother’s painting.”

“Hmmm.”

“My mom gave me that painting as a high school graduation gift. I had no clue what it was worth, and I put it away in a box. How am I supposed to function knowing that her present was given away?”

“I’m sorry to hear this.”

“Don’t be sorry. Convince him to sell it.”

If this man couldn’t convince Nathan, how did he expect me to do it? I want to get him off my back though, so I say, “Sure,” and nod. I move away again, and William walks with me, his smile wide. We step into the sunlight.

“Thanks. It’ll be really nice to get my family heirloom back.”

“Sure.” I’m already worried about how I’ll approach the subject with Nathan. I hope he doesn’t get upset that I’ve talked to William. I feel a tinge of regret that I even agreed to talk to Nathan about it. “Well, I have to go.”

“Sure, no problem.” William smiles at me.

“Well later.” I give him a wave.

I will ask Nathan
. Maybe he’ll show me what all this fuss was about. I want to know more about the painting. But no matter my thoughts, my stomach feels mushy. I don’t know if it’s nerves or if it’s because I haven’t eaten breakfast. I do know that I really have to get something to eat, preferably something sweet. For some reason, I feel as though I’ve caved in.

––––––––

N
athan calls to ask me if I want to drive to Canoe Park and chill for a bit. It’s a gorgeous sunny day, so of course I say yes. I enjoy being around him more and more.

“I’ve never been there,” I say after he invites me.

“It’s on the outskirts of Picaldy,” Nathan says, referring to a city about twenty minutes away. “I’ll pick you up in a hour. Will you be ready?”

I like his take-charge attitude. “Sure.”

I get ready for our date, putting on blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and white sneakers. Nathan comes five minutes early, and we head for the park. On the way there, I tell him a bit more about my modeling days and how much I enjoyed England.

“I like England too,” he says.

Maybe we can go there together someday.
As I’m smiling at this secret hope, I see the sign for Canoe Bay Park. Nathan drives past the sign and parks.

He exhales loudly. “I come here when I want to get away and relax.”

“I see that it’s got a bike trail.” I point off in the distance.

Nathan nods. “There’s also a little pond farther in. You ready? We can go for a stroll.”

I nod, and Nathan puts up the windows before we get out of the car. We walk across luscious green grass. It rained again last night. I hear birds chirping, hidden away in the trees and bushes.

Nathan takes my hand. “Your hands are so soft.”

“Thanks.”

We move off the grass onto the bike trail, and I inhale a huge gulp of air, which smells much cleaner than New York City’s.

“When we get farther in, I’ll show you the pond,” Nathan says. “You can see parts of it through the leaves here.”

“We should walk over to it.”

“Okay.” Nathan rubs his thumb over my hand, which tickles me and makes me giggle. “This park’s the perfect escape. You can’t really hear cars driving by.”

The park’s larger than I expected, and the grounds are well maintained. We pass a children’s playground and a couple of picnic tables.

“Here we are.” Nathan points at a man-made foot trail that leads to the pond.

I smile at him. “Let’s go.”

We take our time, and I duck my head at one point to not hit a branch.

“Tall-y,” Nathan teases. “I forgot to tell you to watch your head.”

The pond’s actually a decent size. The water at our end seems somewhat shallow, but I’m not sure if I can gauge how deep the pond goes. The birds are chirping more noisily here.

“Look, Nathan!” I point at a swan. “Wow.”

“Let me take a picture.” Nathan dips his hand in his pocket and pulls out his keys as well as his phone. He snaps two shots of the graceful bird.

“I’m going to take a picture of you.” I smile as I take my phone out of my pocket.

I’m truly enjoying the moment. Nathan is so different from any other boyfriend I’ve had, though there were only two. I didn’t exactly have time for relationships when I had to focus on modeling.

The ambiance of the park calms me. “You’re right, Nate. This park is terrific.”

Nathan stretches out his neck and steps back to lean against the black rails that prevent visitors from going in the water. “Nate?” He smiles. “My mom used to call me that.”

“Oh—”

“It’s okay.” Nathan waves it off. His phone’s still in his right hand, and he jingles his keys in his left hand. He perches his left arm over the rail.

“Here we go. Smile for the camera.”

The man’s smile dazzles me. I take his picture—ten different ones. I make him change his pose occasionally, and I even the swan in the background in two shots. I bite my lips, wanting to kiss him. I slide my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. Nathan straightens up and puts his phone and keys back into his pocket.

“You know what’s funny? Dad has, like, a thousand keys on his keychain. You have, like, two,” I say.

Nathan laughs. “Yep, car key and apartment key. That’s it.”

I walk toward Nathan and stand next to him while holding the rail. The sun doesn’t beat down on us, and a cool wind strokes our skin.

“You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought her.” Nathan turns toward me. “I’m so glad you chose to spend the summer back here.”

I tilt my head back. “Not as much as me.”

Nathan smiles and steps closer. He bends down. His lips are so close to mine that I feel as if I can taste them. When our lips finally meet, I close my eyes and wrap my arms around his neck. Nathan embraces me. Our kiss makes my head feel woozy. I loosen my arms and slide both hands down to grip his shoulders. I pant and smile, though I’m slightly embarrassed.

Nathan pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “Hmm, I sense a tiger in that sweet manner of yours, Shayna.”

“Rrrr.” I try to imitate a fierce cat more than a tiger.

Nathan cracks up, holding his stomach. “Oh my goodness!”

Even I can’t believe I actually just imitated an animal, and I laugh at myself.

Nathan pulls me into him, giving me a good squeeze. “You ready to go?”

I nod. “Sure.”

We head back to the car. When we’re on the road, Nathan tells me about the car he’s working on at the garage. He says he had the day off but planned to stop by the garage after dropping me off. The manager called a staff meeting.

“Since we don’t have those too often, I want to hear what this is all about.” Nathan tells me a little about the shop and the kinds of cars they fix.

I know nothing about cars, but listen attentively to what he tells me, nodding every so often to acknowledge that I hear him.

“I’m still not sure what I’d like to do after I sell the painting. I may try to open up a little garage of my own or some other business.”

I see an opening to take. “I’d really like to see it.”

Nathan glances at me. “Yeah, I’d like to show it to you too. Tomorrow’s good?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll come pick you up around eleven a.m.; we can grab lunch at a café near my place.”

“I thought you still lived with your uncle.”

“Oh no, I moved out when I was eighteen,” he says.

“Okay. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Nathan glances at me.

I see lines forming between his eyebrows, which make me giggle. “I’m not going to drop some strange news on you or anything.”