11. Thea
eleven
Orange swirled with red and black, creating murky, muddy flames on my canvas. I dipped my brush in black again. These flames needed to be darker. Most of my paintings included flames lately, except for the lovely winter landscape that a middle-aged mom had commissioned for the recently passed Christmas holiday. That was the dumbest thing I’d ever painted, but she paid $2,500 for it.
Now, back to flames. I didn’t stomp around slamming doors anymore, but anger still simmered under the surface. It felt good to paint it, better than writing fake suicide letters. I hadn’t written one of those since Levi saw them.
Fuck Levi. I painted his eyes into the flames on my canvas. Fuck those pretty eyes. And fuck that text message he’d sent me on Thanksgiving. Fuck the fact that I still read it several times a day.
Thinking of me? Thinking what? Thinking what, Levi?
I tossed my paintbrush onto the table next to my canvas. I stood and stretched my aching back, then rolled my throbbing wrists a few times. The cold always made my body aches worse. Actually, so did the heat. Any extreme weather sucked.
I wandered to my bathroom to wash my hands and heard a knock at my door. “Who in the hell?” I muttered to myself. Again, why didn’t I have a moody black cat to talk to? Maybe I’d get myself one for my birthday. I’d name it Wednesday, and it would hiss at everyone except me.
I made my way to the front door and wrenched it open, and I shit you not, two nerdy Mormon boys stood on my porch, shivering against the cold January air. Their nametags read Elder Benton and Elder Smith. Elder Benton was tall and lanky with a pleasant smile and a gentle na?vety in his eyes. Elder Smith was short, pale, and looked like he had a major stick shoved up his butt.
“Hello!” The one labeled Elder Smith greeted me. “We’re from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We were in the neighborhood and felt inspired by the Lord to knock on your door. May we share a quick message about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?”
I nearly slammed the door in their nerdy faces, but then I recalled Levi’s traumatic mission experiences. These kids were probably cold and scared and missed their families. I sighed and opened my door a little wider, inviting them inside. “Look, I don’t want to hear about Jesus, but you’re probably cold and hungry.”
Elder Benton nodded eagerly and said, “I’m starving!”
Elder Smith elbowed his arm and looked at him disapprovingly before turning back to me. “I’m sorry. Is there anyone else here? We can’t come in if you’re alone.”
I frowned. “Seriously? Why?”
Elder Smith stammered, “Young, attractive women… I, we’re not supposed to—”
“Oh god!” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll keep my clothes on!” I ushered them inside and started heating water in my electric kettle. “Have a seat.” I gestured to the table. “I’m not an amazing cook or anything, but I was about to make some spaghetti and marinara. I’ll cook extra.”
“Thank you,” they mumbled.
Elder Benton’s eyes wandered around, studying the art on my walls, but Elder Smith nudged him again and shook his head. I thought I heard him whisper about the darkness driving away the spirit. I snorted and filled three mugs with hot water and a chamomile tea bag.
“Oh!” Elder Smith held up his hand. “We don’t drink tea. It’s in our Word of Wisdom. We’d love to teach you about it tonight.”
I let out a long, irritated sigh. “Bro, it’s herbal. You can drink it.”
“You’re familiar with the Word of Wisdom?” Elder Smith looked intrigued.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I had a… friend who was Mormon.”
I placed the mugs and a honey jar on my table in front of the nerdy kids. They both stared at the mugs like they were about to sprout teeth. I grabbed the box of chamomile tea and plopped it next to the honey. “Check it out. Herbal.” I pointed to the word near the bottom of the box. “I’m not planning on poisoning any Mormons today. I have that penciled in for tomorrow, though, so it’s a good thing you knocked on my door tonight.”
When they remained silent, I chuckled at my joke and started cooking the pasta. Levi would have thought I was hilarious.
Fucking Levi.
I started on the sauce while the missionaries hesitantly sipped their tea. They tried to engage me in conversation about their belief that families can be sealed together forever in their temples. “Isn’t that the most beautiful promise?” Elder Smith asked.
“Not everyone wants to be with their families forever. Some families are shit.” I shrugged and stirred the pasta. I’d put the noodles in before the water started boiling. I was always too impatient to wait and compromised the texture of my pasta every time. The water began to simmer as I watched it, not unlike the tension in the room.
Elder Smith sputtered something about family being the most important thing next to belief in God.
I almost mentioned the secret handshakes Levi drunkenly told me about the night we met but chose to change the subject instead. “What do you guys want to do when you finish your missions?”
“Video game design,” Elder Benton answered immediately.
Elder Smith shot him another disapproving look. “I will do whatever the Lord wants me to do.”
How could one kid hold so much disapproval in his tiny brain? Is that how Levi’s family always looked at him now? I chose to ignore Elder Smith and instead addressed Elder Benton. “Dude, that’s awesome. What sort of games do you like to play?”
“My family and I are all huge Mario nerds. We used to have these March Madness Mario Kart tournaments with our aunts, uncles, and cousins. Even my grandparents would get into it!” Elder Benton lit up for the first time since they’d knocked on my door. His smile was adorable and genuine. It reminded me of Levi’s smile.
Everything reminded me of Levi. Constantly.
The sun could shine, and it would remind me of how Levi stood in the sun while Jo’s kids raced around him in the train museum parking lot. A raindrop could fall, and it would remind me of our fight in the rain outside Dark Horse and how that fiery, passionate moment made me want to kiss him.
The Station reminded me of Levi.
The Durango Inn reminded me of Levi.
My house reminded me of Levi.
Apparently, it was time to move.
“Are you an artist?” Elder Benton blurted out, distracting me from my angry thoughts.
Elder Smith shot him a glare. Holy fucking hell. Someone needed to pull the stick out of that kid’s ass.
I nodded to Elder Benton. “I paint.”
He looked like he wanted to ask more questions but squirmed under his companion’s watchful eyes.
“Do you paint?” I asked as I plated the pasta.
“No.” Elder Benton quickly shook his head and looked down at the table. “My girl—” he sighed, “Ex-girlfriend is an artist.” He glanced at the enchanted forest I’d painted a few years ago. Fairies played in the treetops, and nymphs danced by the sparkling water. A great, dark wolf with glowing yellow eyes lurked in the shadows. Elder Benton finally said, “She would love that painting right there. She’s obsessed with fantasy stories.”
“I prefer the truth,” Elder Smith said, lifting his copy of the Book of Mormon.
I ignored him and addressed Elder Benton again. “Why is she an ex?”
He swallowed and blinked, looking like he was trying to put on a brave face. “Uh, she got engaged to some lucky guy that already got home from his mission.”
Elder Smith made an irritated noise again. “This is exactly why we’re counseled not to steady date until after our missions. Our time on our missions belongs to the Lord. We shouldn’t be distracted by—”
“I’m sorry, dude.” I cut off the asshole as I placed dinner on the table. I looked right into Elder Benton’s kind blue eyes. “That must be hard. How much longer before you can go home?”
He tried to smile but failed. “Sixteen months.”
The poor kid so clearly didn’t want to be here. His heart was back home with the girl he loved. “And you can’t go home early to kick the other guy’s ass?”
This time, Elder Benton managed a full smile. “No.”
I took a bite of pasta, watching Elder Benton.
“We’d like to say a prayer to bless the food.” Elder Smith interjected.
“No,” I shot back without looking at him.
Elder Benton stifled a grin, and Elder Smith gaped at me before bowing his head in silent prayer.
“You know,” I addressed Elder Benton again. “My friend who was Mormon left.” I didn’t elaborate because I remembered Levi’s story about Mormons being angry if you tried too hard to remove their blindfolds. I only wanted to plant a seed for this good kid, to let him know other paths existed.
The missionaries ate quickly—Elder Smith clearly wanted to leave my wicked home as soon as possible. As they stood by my front door, Elder Benton smiled and said, “Thanks for being nice to us.”
I returned a genuine smile. “Sure thing, kid.”
Elder Smith blurted out a curt thank you and hurried into the cold night with his companion close behind.
After the missionaries left, I closed my door with a sigh and pulled out my phone. I wouldn’t stop thinking about Levi any time soon, and I wasn’t that angry anymore. I had to stop kidding myself.
I typed and deleted six different messages to Levi. In two of them, I apologized for freaking out at him that morning after he boned some stranger. We weren’t together. I’d given him no hint of my possible feelings, and he had the right to stick his dick—that I didn’t own— wherever he wanted. I overreacted. After deleting those, I typed that I missed the shit out of him. Then I wrote a less honest one about being super busy but wondering how he was. Finally, I settled on a message where I glided right over the elephant in the room and pretended it didn’t exist.
Classic Thea.
Did you send missionaries to my house tonight?
What? No! What happened?
I made them tea, fed them, and sent them on their merry way.
You were nice to them? Why?
Because of you, dumb ass. And I wasn’t totally nice. I made them uncomfortable several times.
Levi replied with a smiling emoji. I accidentally smiled in real life.
I wish I could have been there.
Only seconds later, another text came through.
It’s good to hear from you, Thea. How are you?
I didn’t answer right away. Did I want to torture him or protect me? We may never know.
Instead, I wandered back to my studio and picked up my brush again. I painted a cliff with blacks and browns and a clear blue skyline. Then I added a figure at the cliff’s edge— a thin woman in a flowing yellow dress with wild tendrils of purple hair swirling in the breeze. Her position was precarious, but her back was turned to the cliff, and she faced the safety of blue skies and solid ground.
What would she do next? Walk away, or turn around and jump? And did jumping mean death or freedom?
I dropped my paintbrush again, sensing the lateness of the hour. I’d finish this story, this painting, another day. I retrieved my phone and headed for my bedroom, finally answering Levi’s text.
I’ve been okay. I’ve been painting a lot. How are you?
He answered, even though it was close to 2 am.
I’ve been okay, too. I told my family to go to hell. You would have been so proud. I got my first tattoo, and I’m taking graphic design classes because I hate accounting.
Can I see your paintings?
I smiled and headed back to my studio to take some photos. I left out the one I’d started tonight, and I left out any with Levi’s eyes in them. There was a surprisingly large amount. After I sent the photos, I texted:
Can I see your tattoo?
Thea, there are a lot of flames in those paintings. I’m sensing a theme. ;) They are stunning. And yes, you can see the tattoo.
He sent a photo of his right arm. Broken chains ran down his bicep, ending right above his elbow. I smiled and touched the photo like a weirdo.
Badass, Levi. Love it.
And just like that, we started texting daily as if nothing had happened to blow up our friendship.