Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Lucy
“You New Girl ’ed him?” Maya gasps, bracing herself against my work-in-progress mural. The news of Jaylen’s “I love you” is clearly just as disorienting for her to hear as well.
“Careful!” I shout, tugging her arm and pulling her off the wet paint. Her hand narrowly misses the Rainiers’ logo. I put the finishing touches on its snowy mountaintop this morning while the sun played peekaboo through the clouds. I toss Maya the rag slung over my shoulder, and she wipes her hand clean.
A few strangers pass by on the shared sidewalk and I subconsciously tuck into the brick wall to hide. They pay us and our personal conversation no mind. I feel a bit like a zoo animal on display while painting this giant mural on the outside of the arena’s north end entrance. This exhibit closes soon, and I hope to wrap up this last team commission and finally get that yes I’m so desperate to hear from a tattoo shop. The apprenticeship search is tireless—and so far, fruitless too.
As if I didn’t have enough on my palette, let’s add one perturbed BFF to the mix. I thought telling Maya about the nonreciprocated “I love you” blunder was the right thing to do. Surely my most responsible friend would say something sensical like It’s too early for love or You did the right thing . Instead, Maya is giving me the reaction I expected from Cooper. She’s still standing there looking at me like I threw a compostable cup in the trash bin.
“I panicked. What was I supposed to say?” I’ve replayed the moment over and over in my mind and every time I think about saying it back to him, I panic all over again.
Maya throws her hands up in the air and my soiled rag flies along with them. “‘I love you too, Jaylen,’ would have been fine.”
“I don’t know. Feels a bit desperate. Jay and I aren’t even dating.” My eye contact drops sheepishly, and I begin painting over the handprint smudges Maya left on the mural. I know I don’t have much of a case here, but that doesn’t stop me from getting defensive.
Jaylen was open and vulnerable with me last week, and I shut him down with a kiss. It’s not like it was the first time I’ve ever heard those words, but usually it’s been awkward or said after a few too many drinks and forgotten by morning. I could tell Jaylen meant it by the way he kissed me after. He kissed me like it was the first time again. How you kiss someone when you don’t know if there will ever be another one.
Maya enjoys a smug laugh, tilting her head back as her shoulders shake. “Jay? You gave him a nickname? Oh, you’re totally dating. This right here is typical Lucy behavior. It’s how I know for a fact that you two have been dating.” Maya’s new microbraids shimmy as she shakes her head at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I spin around, wielding my brush. I’m more defensive than I should be, but it feels like getting called out at Club Purple Haze for dating around too much all over again.
“It means you always do this in relationships. You sabotage yourself. If you’re not ignoring the signs that your girlfriend clearly has a secret boyfriend, then you’re looking for a reason to bail on someone great when things get serious.” Maya talks far too loudly for such a private conversation. I feel naked on the sidewalk in my paint-stained clothes.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to tell Jaylen that I love him. I didn’t think it was that serious. I’m just trying to paint my murals while I wait to hear back about my applications. I had an interview at a shop in Capitol Hill and it went well,” I brag, hoping to change the direction of our conversation. I also heard back from the shop on Capitol Hill the next day. They went in a different direction, but I keep that painful news to myself.
I’m not dwelling on the loss because I heard back from Hunter Gunn; I have an interview with her in a couple weeks. Jaylen doesn’t know that the position with Hunter Gunn is in LA, because I haven’t exactly told him. It hasn’t come up in conversation. I’m sure I’ll tell him—eventually. I drop my brush among my mess of supplies and grab a seat on a nearby bench. I’ve been painting since dawn and Cooper should be here soon with our lunch. “Like a picnic,” he called it. I sit down on the public bench and practically step in a wad of dried chewing gum.
“And that’s great, but you’ve said ‘I love you’ to plenty of people before Jaylen. You tell the new barista at Brewed This Way that you love them all the time,” Maya says, sitting down next to me.
“Because they remember how I take my coffee and what type of muffin I usually get.” My deflection is lazy at best, but most of my focus is being used to analyze my progressing mural. What should I tackle next? More highlights on the beer cans; maybe some condensation for a pinch of realism. This mural is already shaping up to be my best one yet.
“I don’t think you should say it if you don’t mean it, but be real—you and Jaylen need to have a conversation. You can’t avoid him forever, especially not painting here,” Maya says in a softer tone. One warm enough to melt my layer of frigid defense.
She’s right; I should text Jaylen. I’ve been able to avoid him for a bit while he was on a road trip with the team, but he got back early this morning around 2:00 a.m., and I’m expecting a text once he’s up—which could be any minute now. My stomach is in knots and it’s not the hunger.
“The stakes feel way higher with Jay than they’ve ever felt with anyone else.” I have no choice but to be a bit more vulnerable with Maya. I’m running out of time before I have to face Jaylen, and I could really use her advice.
“You deserve to be loved, Lucy.” She reaches for my hand.
The words practically knock me off the bench. I squeeze her hand so I don’t fall over. It seems like such a simple concept. One that I can grasp in my head—but when it comes to my heart, I’m not so willing to accept it.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I cough into my fist, clearing my throat. “I think I am a bit freaked out.”
Maya nods her head somberly. “I get it. Jaylen’s your first serious partner in forever. He’s like the first guy you’ve dated without a suspended license. He doesn’t even have a criminal record.”
“He has a bed frame and multiple bath towels,” I add. Not only is Jaylen’s criminal background clean, but he’s also a homeowner, has health insurance, and has a pension. He has his shit together, which for whatever reason raises the stakes in our relationship greatly.
Maya’s face contorts. “I don’t know how you date men.”
“I’ve dated enough bad ones to know when a good one comes along.”
“So, you do know how you feel about him?” Maya’s eyebrow raises slightly. “Maybe you aren’t ready to tell him you love him. Do you at least like him?” Maya asks.
“I’m scared to admit how much I like him. I don’t even want to say it out loud in case I jinx it,” I say. My phone vibrates in my pocket and we both feel its ripple against the bench. I startle but try to play it off as if I don’t notice—it continues to buzz.
Maya gives me a nudge. “You’re not going to jinx it, but you will push him away if you keep ignoring his calls.”
“Then I should take this.” I excuse myself and dart around the corner of the building for a bit more privacy. Must be serious because he usually texts.
Once I’m out of sight and earshot, I pull my phone out to see that it’s not a call from Jaylen, but one from an unknown number. There’s a lump in my throat. Most people see “unknown number” and think a telemarketer is trying to reach them about their car’s warranty. I don’t even have a car, but what I do have is a dad who changes phone numbers as frequently as he does jobs, and addresses, and moods.
I haven’t seen him since my senior art showcase when he showed up drunk and caused an embarrassing scene. He called me a couple of weeks after the event from an unknown number with some excuse and the empty promise of a lunch date in the near future. My dad is good at making promises and even better at breaking them.
I can’t help but have a visceral reaction at the possibility of hearing his voice. I’ve completed two murals for the Rainiers, and I’m about halfway through the third. Did he see the pictures I posted of my work on social media? He’s never cared about my art before. Most people would send a call from a person like that to voicemail, but I always wonder if he is calling to apologize.
I answer the call—I always do. I came out of the womb programmed to destruct, tripping over my feet in a rush to reach the conflict. I wish I was strong enough to hit Ignore, but it gets tiresome pretending I have any self-restraint.
“Lucy!”
Unfortunately, I was right—it’s him.
“How have you been?” His tone is far too vibrant and upbeat for someone who abandoned their wife and six-year-old kid, for someone who never paid any child support, for someone who never showed up to any of his daughter’s art events, for someone who has never made much of an effort. His carelessness with my feelings causes my chest to tighten.
“I’m good, I… I’m surprised you called me.” I wince at myself.
“Why? I call you all the time.” His vibrant tone quickly runs its course and he’s already annoyed with me. “My boss has me working a job near the city later this month. I’m wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with your old man. It’s been too long, kiddo,” he says.
I’m so caught off guard by the use of my childhood pet name that I almost don’t notice he’s finally asking me to the lunch he promised more than three years ago.
“What do you think?” he asks before I have a chance to respond. I can practically smell the Budweiser on his breath through the phone.
“I don’t know. I’ve been really busy—” I start feeding him an excuse, but he cuts me off before I can finish explaining myself.
“Come on! I’ll pick the spot.” Before I can say no, I hear shouting in the background from his end of the call. My dad yells something indistinguishable back. “Look, I got to go, but I’ll text you the details soon.” He hangs up.
By the time I can process what happened, the call is over. Like being thrown back into my art, I worry that seeing my dad will put me back in harm’s way. Although, if I can pick up a brush again, then I can face him too. I still have time to prepare myself for our reunion, or come up with a good excuse to skip.
My phone dings in my hand, but it isn’t my dad texting me the details of our upcoming lunch; it’s a text from Jaylen.
JAYLEN:
Today must be the day where the things I’ve been avoiding finally catch up to me.
LUCY:
“Let me guess, it was our favorite ally?” Maya asks as I approach. She’s sipping the sustainable fair-trade loose-leaf tea she made Cooper buy for his café.
Cooper is sitting beside her, joining us with a lap full of lunch from the café. Rather than get into the details of the call with my dad, I nod my head.
“We’re meeting up after work.” I keep my response vague, not waiting to provoke one of Cooper’s dramatic gasps. Which is inevitable once I tell him I didn’t say “I love you” back to Jaylen.
“You need to bring him to the café. It would be great for business.” Cooper hands me a coffee and half a sandwich.
“He’s not some show pony for me to parade around town, Coop,” I say with my mouth full.
“I know, he’s a stallion,” Cooper says with a snarl, earning an eye roll from me. “If you’re not going to bring him around, then you can at least paint one of your beautiful murals for me. One of Lady Gaga’s body from the ‘Stupid Love’ music video with my face on it.” Cooper strikes a pose more suited for Vogue than the wall of a coffee shop.
“That’s going to cost you big,” I say, though I probably owe him at least one pro bono commission.
Maya’s phone chimes. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lucy’s boyfriend, Mr. Rainier himself.” Maya flips her phone for Cooper and me to see a text from Jaylen Jones. I gave Jaylen her number and Maya has put him in contact with the right people so he can begin creating his nonprofit.
“Boyfriend?” Cooper gasps.
There it is. Like a puff of steam, it sizzles my ears and scratches my brain.
I can’t help but chuckle; the commotion of it all makes me bashful. “You didn’t hear? Looks like Team Jacy is about to be official.” I say it jokingly at first, but I’m taken aback by how tickled the whole thing makes me feel. The dread I built up all on my own has been extinguished and I can’t wait to finish up for the day and face the unsaid.