2. Chapter 2
Iam absolutely loving it here at Oakside. The grounds are beautiful and perfect for painting. It means so much to me that I get to paint here and what I do also helps all these wounded soldiers. This place looks like it should be on the cover of some home magazine or postcard—it’s just so visually stunning.
I”m completely lost in the sketch I’m working on. The next painting that I”m planning on doing is of the old plantation home that has now been turned into Oakside. The tall two-story columns and the second floor two story balconies have me transfixed. So, I don”t notice right away that a man is walking towards me until he sits beside me.
He has dark hair, a short beard, visible tattoos covering his arms and a tablet in his hand. I expect him to start talking to me, but instead, he types on the tablet. Maybe he came out here for some silence, but didn”t want to be completely alone. If that”s what he needs, I”m happy to sit here with him and keep him company.
But after a minute, he shows the tablet to me. The notepad is open with a question on it.
I’m Zane. What’s your name?
I smile at him. “I”m Carlee. Are you one of the patients here?” I ask.
Instead of answering, he types on the tablet, turning it back towards me.
I”ve lost my hearing, so the tablet is how I communicate for now.
Nodding in understanding, I take the tablet from him.
Typing out what I want to say, I then hand it back to him. I”m Carlee. It’s nice to meet you.
He smiles and moves his mouth almost like he”s saying my name without any sound to it. When a tingle runs down my spine, I’m shocked. Before I can catch my breath, he starts typing again.
What are you doing here at Oakside?
I take it from him and type out my answer.
I”m doing some paintings to be displayed around Oakside both in the general areas and in the patient rooms. It’s a great way for me to build up my portfolio. In addition, Noah asked me to teach a part-time art therapy class, so now, I will be here more often.
Ever since Noah and Lexi told us of Oakside, it’s captured my imagination and I knew it would be important to me. When I told him I wanted to find a way to help the men and women here who are recovering, Noah suggested art therapy on a trial basis to see if it’s something to add to their services here.
Handing the tablet back to him, I watch him read what I wrote. It”s more than I”d normally share, but something compels me to be open with him. He smiles and types something on the tablet before he nods to my sketchbook in my lap and hands the tablet back to me.
Can I see what you”re drawing?
I used to be pretty shy and closed off about my work, but my college professors were very good at pulling me out of my shell. With their guidance and encouragement, I’m open, but maybe a tiny bit reserved to share my sketches and my art.
“After all, why make art if no one sees it,” one professor said. His words still stick with me.
Because art is very subjective, sharing can be either exciting or horrifying. Two people can look at the same piece and one can love it and the other hate it. But something tells me that this man isn”t going to tear me down if he doesn”t like what he sees. So, handing over my Sketchbook, I watch him look through it.
On the pages I’ve sketched the front of the Oakside main house building from a different perspective a few different times. I wanted to get the view from all sides. I”ve also sketched some of the other places on the property, like the barn and the garden. Also, there’s one with the view down the oak-covered driveway heading onto the property.
Once he”s done flipping through the book, he types on the tablet again before handing it to me.
These drawings are absolutely gorgeous. Can you take them and then turn them into your paintings?
I smile happily. The fact that he likes my work impacts me more than when friends, family, my professor, or any random stranger says how good they are and how much they enjoy them.
Though I feel like if he didn’t, it would have completely devastated me.
Typing on the tablet, I answer his question.
Yeah, along with photos that I took as well. I could set up an easel out here, but I don’t want to be in the way.
He takes the tablet back and types another message.
Can I ask how old you are?
Grinning big, I lock eyes with him. His expression is one of amusement mixed with something that I’m unfamiliar with. Even though it’s a personal question, I’m trying not to read too much into it.
I like this man, but I doubt he”s thinking about a relationship. He’s probably just trying to be nice.
I”m twenty-two. I will be twenty-three at the end of the year. Now the same question for you.
I hand the tablet back to him and watch him type, a slight frown on his face. Does he not want to answer my question? But he types and then hands me the tablet again.
I”m thirty-five. Do you live around here, or are you just visiting?
Answering him, I type: I grew up here and I just moved back after college. What about you? Where”s home? Tell me more about you. The urge to know more about him is irresistible. I”ve never felt this comfortable around someone that I just met. But I want to know more, lots more. It’s kind of crazy that I want to know everything about him.
As I watch him, he types way longer than before. He is only using one hand because the other is wrapped up. Other than that, I don”t see any visible injuries.
Then he hands the tablet back to me.
I grew up in North Carolina, and then I joined the Navy and became a SEAL. I love it. But now, I know they will medically discharge me. So I”m not sure what is in store for me. What else do you want to know?
I think for a moment. Hmm, what can I ask that isn”t too personal?
So, all your family is back in North Carolina? Do you plan to move back there?
He types for a long time, even longer than before, and seems frustrated that he can only use one hand.
My parents are. But we aren’t on good terms, so there is no reason for me to go back there. While I”m here, I guess that is part of what I have to figure out. I like the area, so I might stick around. Who knows? What about you? You plan to stay in the area?
It seems like I”ve been getting that question a lot lately. Now that I’m out of college, I guess people are expecting me to have a plan. But that doesn’t mean that I do.
I think I”d like to stay here, but I guess it all depends on where I can get a job. Right now, I am only part-time here at Oakside. Though it would be a dream job to work here with everyone. I love it here. But I don”t know if that is possible. So, I”m enjoying it while I can.
He types back. I get that. It”s a pivotal time in your life, but any choice you make will define the rest of your life, so don”t rush into anything.
Sounds like advice from someone who learned that lesson the hard way.I type back.
This time, he looks at me and then at Oakside, like he is lost in thought, before shaking his head and typing again.
I don”t regret the choices I made more than the ones I didn”t make.
Typing, I say, My mom said that to me and my sister a lot growing up. We would regret the risks we didn”t take more than the ones we did.
That”s good advice. You should listen to her.He types.
That is about the only good advice she ever had. Especially now, she just wants to push things on me that she wants. I start to delete it, but he stops me, reads it, and types back.
Like what?
Oh, it”s nothing. We just met. I don”t need to burden you with this.
Why did I bring this up? To a complete stranger, nonetheless. Maybe because I need someone to talk to, and not even my sister, who is one of my best friends, knows because I know she”d force me to tell Mom, and I”m just not ready.
He hands me back the tablet. You are not a burden and you need to talk. I want to listen. It”s not like I have much more to do anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I admit the thing I’ve been trying to ignore for months now.
Well. My mom is pushing me to have kids. I think she is getting desperate and even suggesting IVF with a sperm donor now.
Biting my lip anxiously, I’m sure he is going to make up some excuse for needing to get back inside.
You don”t want to have kids?he asks.
Yes, I want kids. But I just can”t have them. I haven”t told my mother yet. My ex broke up with me because I couldn”t have kids, and she seemed extra desperate since the breakup to make it happen. My sister was married with a one-year-old when she was my age.
Doctors make mistakes all the time. Don”t give up so soon if that”s what you want, he says.
I shake my head, trying not to tear up. Ever since I was a kid, all I wanted was to be a mother. To have that taken from me was devastating. Even worse was I had no one around me at the time because my ex didn”t call anyone. I was unconscious in the hospital, and my family was unaware. Waking up alone hurts and I’m still processing it all.
I was in a car accident. Long story short, they did emergency surgery, and my uterus was removed. My ex didn”t call my family, so they still have no idea. They only knew I was in a car crash. I thought I needed to process it before I told my mom, but once I was healed, the harping from her got so much worse. But let”s change the subject.
This is a lot to put on someone I just met.
His look once he reads what I wrote isn”t one of pity but of understanding. We talk some more about light-hearted stuff like my work, things I”ve painted in the past, and what I studied in school. Before I know it, an hour had passed.
I hate to leave but I have a doctor’s appointment. Will you be here tomorrow? I”d like to see you again,he says.
I”ll be here. Maybe in the back this time. Come find me.I tell him because I can”t make it easy on him, right?
I will see you then.He types it with a smile on his handsome face.
Then as he enters the building, I watch him. My eyes take in his strong muscular body and the way he carries himself. I’m kind of surprised by the shiver that runs through my body.
When he pauses at the front door and looks back at me, it’s as if he hates having to leave me here. Once the door closes behind him, it”s like a connection has been severed. How in such a short time, can I feel the loss of his being near me? I have to say I don”t like it, and I find it somewhat alarming.
It”s a loss of something I didn”t know I was missing. But now that I know it”s out there, I don”t want to be without it anymore.