3. Walker #2
“Seconding that, and not sure you want to see that comment.” His brown-green eyes flared, but I loaded my brush with brown and, then, made a circle.
Then another one, smaller, with two pointy ears.
He stood at my side, watching silently, the smell of his fruity cologne reaching my nose.
I liked it. Subtle yet strong. Kind of like him.
“This is Spearmint.” I added some whiskers and a long cat tail to the painting.
“She was our cat when my sister and I were little.”
“She has lovely features,” he said as I added a pair of yellow eyes. “Do you like cats?”
“Love them.” I painted a pink collar with a bell.
Spearmint never had a collar. She was a stray Harper and I fed on the sly.
But I liked to think if things had been different, we could have brought her inside and given her a collar.
“Some guys don’t like cats. I think they don’t because you can’t force a cat to like you.
Not like a dog. Cat love has to be earned.
I respect that. Affection shouldn’t just be handed out.
A person should have to work for that privilege.
When you give it to people who don’t deserve it, you get kicked in the ribs. ”
My brush paused an inch from the canvas.
Mother. Fucker. I knew it. This therapy slash meds slash mental healing was making me into Bob Ross.
Next, I’d be painting happy trees and cuddling with squirrels.
Not that I ever watched his show to know he sometimes had pocket squirrels or anything.
I looked around to see that all four of my fellow fucked-up Copperheads were gaping at me like codfish.
“What? Mind your own damn paintings.” They all went back to creating masterpieces.
I glanced down at Mr. Carter. He said nothing.
Instead, he gave my back a soft rub as one would a child who had skinned a knee.
I hated how much comfort that gave me. “I think I’m done. ”
“No background?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Perhaps your back yard?”
“Nope, our yard wasn’t a nice place for cats,” I muttered before handing my palette to the teacher, then I walked out of the classroom.
I needed air. Shoving through the doors, I sucked in a lungful of cold air, let it out, and watched the tiny fog cloud float skyward before disappearing.
I paced, shook out my hands, and rolled my neck.
The doors opened a few minutes later, and Mr. Carter stepped out into the chilly dusk.
He should have pulled on a coat. If he wanted to step closer, I could hold him to warm him up.
“Are you okay?”
I stopped circling a park bench. “Yeah, I’m good. Aces. Just needed to get out of that room. Sometimes the heat makes me congested. Stuffy nose, you know. So coming outside clears my sinuses.”
“Yes, of course, that happens to all of us when the heat is turned on.” He tucked his hands under his armpits. “It’s going to be a fierce winter, I fear. If you’d like to come back in, we’re going to clean up soon, then stroll over to the donut shop across the way for coffee and crullers.”
He motioned to Mabel’s Donut Shop. The shop had neon donut and coffee lights blinking in the front windows.
“No, thanks. I’m going to call my sister to come get me. Headache coming on.” That part was no lie. These meds were a nightmare at times. They helped even me out, yeah, but the side effects were trash. “Meds bring them on,” I tacked on when his brow furrowed in worry.
“Oh, that’s a shame. Seems that way at times. Taking something to help one malady makes something else worse. Well, no worries then, Walker. I’ll clean your brushes for you this time, but next class, you will be responsible for your own tidy time.”
Tidy time. Oh, holy shit. He was such a teacher. Had to be. “You teach little kids?”
“I do, yes. Oh, heck, that was a rather first-grade teacher thing to say, wasn’t it?” He chuckled softly. I liked the sound of his laughter. “My apologies. Sometimes these things just slip out.”
“No, hey, it’s cool. I think it’s nice for us, you know, a bunch of gorillas with problems.”
“You’re not a gorilla.”
“Oh no, I meant them obviously.” I threw him a wink. He smiled. “Hey, I mean, it will take my sister a long time to break free from what she’s doing. I guess I could come back in to partake in tidy time, then do coffee. I don’t want to be put in time-out or anything.”
That bit about Harper was a total lie. I’d not even called her yet.
“Ha, ha. Very funny. I don’t have a time-out chair big enough for your backside.”
With that, he scooted back inside. I watched the door shut behind him, a smile playing on my lips.
I liked him. He had grit. And a kindness of the soul that spoke to something buried deep inside me.
Also, he was just my type. So, even though my therapist suggested not dating anyone until I had my shit straightened out -- his words, not mine, but they could have been -- I sauntered back inside the community center to find Arnaud leading the chimps in a song while they cleaned up their paints.
“Ramassez, rammasez, c’est le temps de rammasser,” he croaked, his deep voice terribly off key.
The others were singing along, even Mr. Carter, but it was obvious they didn’t know what the hell they were saying.
The goofy goalie could have been leading them in a song where they were calling themselves asswipes.
Laughing hazel eyes met mine as I walked to my stupid cat picture.
I might give it to Harper. She really loved that cat.
“Walker. Come sing the cleanup song with us!”
I shook my head. I have no idea how this happened, but I found myself mumbling along as I washed my brushes. The stink of turpentine made my nose wrinkle. Mr. Carter appeared at my side, and I handed him the wet brushes.
“I’m glad to see your headache has eased up.”
“Yeah, it’s manageable. They say coffee helps with migraines, so I thought, what the hell, might as well have a cup.
” He nodded softly and moved on. My sight stayed on him even when the other men were heading out the door.
I stamped along behind them, with Mr. Carter walking at my side, his shorter legs working twice as hard to keep up.
I slowed down. “You got a first name?” I asked and got an amused look in reply.
“Most people do,” he answered as we waited for the red hand to turn green.
“Think you might want to tell me what it is?” I asked, hands in my coat pockets, palms suddenly sweaty.