Chapter 14
Play once in a while by GRAHAM, Henrik
“Abby!” Mom calls from the top of the ladder. Her paintbrush slowly drips yellow paint that splashes against the plastic cover below her. “Can you get more paint on this?”
I smile down at my own paintbrush, admiring the yellow strokes I’ve left along the front of the trailer.
Dad will be home in two days, and as an extravagant final touch, Mom decided we needed a fresh coat of paint.
The excitement for his return has been through the roof, everyone getting involved to make sure his reunion goes perfectly.
Abby has been over almost everyday, she has helped us through the garage sale and now with this project.
Even her mom had stopped by a few times, always bringing loads of snacks and fresh drinks for the three of us.
The garage sale had been a surprising hit, leaving us with plenty of money to fund the face lift of the trailer.
Mom spent hours digging through paint swatches to find the perfect one.
Slowly losing her resolve as Abby and I kept teasing her about being too picky.
We had ended the night in a fit of laughter.
That’s when mom held up the yellow paper.
“This is what your happiness looks like, Nova.” She had beamed at me. “This is the one.”
The constant chaos has been my only escape from Saint. It’s been weeks of silence, and when I’m alone I still crave him. I can’t let it go. I’ve done nothing but try, yet he has embedded himself so deeply into me the idea of forgetting about him is like trying to breathe without lungs.
“Wait!” Abby squeals. Mom and I both turn to her, but she keeps her gaze locked on Mom as she smiles brightly. “He’s here!” She practically jumps for Joy as she rushes over to help Mom get down the ladder.
“Who?” I ask, setting my brush down on the ledge of the home. Slowly rising to my feet I dust some of the gravel that had gripped onto my jeans. The little pebbles bounce off the ground, scattering around me.
I turn just in time to recognize the blue hair walking down the road towards us. My lip trembles as he steps closer, his facial features coming into focus. “Jackson?” I squeak out.
He walks up to me, taking me in his arms. The comfort of his friendly embrace brings tears to my eyes. I nuzzle into him, smelling the familiar scent of his cigarettes and mint gum. “Why are you here?” I inquire, the sounds leave my throat, coming out choppy as the tears bubble over.
“Abby said you could use a friend.”
I twist my head until my chin is able to rest on his chest, looking up at him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” It’s a pathetic apology but it’s all I can muster without completely falling apart.
He had been a walking ray of sunshine, and I came in like a black hole, stealing the light from him.
I had robbed him of the essence that makes him him.
His hand strokes the back of my head as he looks down at me. “It wasn’t you who hurt me, Nova. You don’t need to carry that baggage.”
“I was at fault just as much as he was,” I respond, still feeling the need to protect Saint.
Jackson shakes his head, releasing me from the hug. Abby walks up to us, giving Jackson a quick squeeze before joining in on the conversation. Together we form a triangle, all taking a step back so everyone is equally included.
“If you weren’t mad at me, why wouldn’t you answer me?” I question further, attempting to prove my point. The insinuation against Saint feels too personal.
Jackson awkwardly stretches out his arms, as if his nerves were physical objects, something he could shake from his skin.
“Okay, so maybe it was a little bit your fault.” He responds, giving me a clumsy smile.
“But!” He exclaims as he points up a finger, “it’s still mostly his. Which is why I’m here.”
A mix of a giggle and a hiccup from the tears sneak from my mouth, combining so horrendously that the other two laugh. Their friendship leaves me feeling so unworthy, but together they have made it clear that I need to accept the gift. They’re here, and all I can do is try to be better.
“Have you spoken to him?” I finally find the courage to ask as we walk towards Mom. Jackson just shakes his head, leaving his response non-verbal.
“About time!” Mom calls to us, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Paint smears along her skin, and I can’t help but smirk at the silliness of her looks. There’s more yellow paint on her than the house at this point. “Grab a brush Jackson! We don’t have all day!”
Abigail’s laugh flows around us, “I mean we kind of do.”
Mom jokingly points the paintbrush in a scolding manner towards her, “don’t sass me, I’m not paying you for nothing.”
That leaves Abby doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Yes Ma’am!”
I watch the two of them head towards the front door, refilling their empty coffee jars with more paint from the bucket.
I haven’t been grateful for much in this life, but Abby sure is one of them.
I can only imagine how stable she kept Mom while I was gone.
She helped keep my favorite person bright, and nothing I could ever do will be enough to repay her.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure none of us deserve Abby.” Jackson quietly speaks up as we both watch the two girls begin painting again. As if he can read my mind, he gently swings an arm over my shoulder. “We just have to appreciate her while we can.”
I move my head in agreement and let him turn us around. Together we head to the other half of the trailer, hoping to finish up this side.
Play Yellow by Wisp
After a few more hours of swiping our brushes along the siding, the front of the trailer is coated and drying. The four of us stand out front, all in a row. We each admire the paint job, one that brings new life to a place that used to feel like my own personal prison.
“It’s perfect, Mama.” I whisper, reaching down to squeeze her hand in mine.
The dying sunlight reflects off of areas that are still wet, making it shimmer.
I’ve spent half my life scared of this place.
Scared of home. Yet here it stands before me, a labor of love.
It’s more than just a place. It’s all the happy memories to come.
It’s the house my parents will grow old in, the place my grandkids will visit when they’re missing grandma and grandpa.
It’s a scrapbook waiting to happen, and my knees shake with relief as I take it in.
“One last thing!” Abby announces, stepping away from her spot in the line and darting over to her car.
The three of us watch as she swings the back door open, shoving half of her body into the backseat.
A few seconds later she emerges, carrying a wooden crate.
A spray painted label reads “Boston’s Best Peaches.
” Yet that’s not what has me losing myself to the feeling of love.
No, it’s the flowers that bloom from the top of the crate. Bright orange marigolds sprout up.
She walks right up the porch, placing the floral arrangement next to the door. They stand proud at the entrance, lighting it up with their beauty.
“There!” She exclaims, giving her performance a small clap. “Now it’s perfect.”
I rush forward, embracing her as tightly as I can.
She will never understand what she’s done for me, and I’ll never tell her out of fear of ruining her positive perception of the world.
But she has made my nightmare finally go away.
Buried away under those flowers sits little me, and for the first time ever, she feels safe at home.
Mom’s freckled arms wrap around the two of us, holding us together as she lets out her own tears. “Thank you, girls.” She sniffles out.
Being this close to the house I’m able to smell the paint. The chemical scent embeds itself into me, and I know now that this smell will always bring me happiness. It will always remind me of these two.
“Alright! Who wants pizza?” Mom asks, wiping the rogue tear that slips down her cheek. Her smile is brighter than I can ever remember it being.
“Yes please,” Jackson groans as he walks up to us. “Who knew painting a house was so much work?”
The four of us pile into the house, separating into two different groups. Mom and I head to the kitchen, while Abby and Jackson make themselves at home. They plop down on the couch, both completely drained from the long day of work.
“What do you want, baby?” Mom questions as she snags her phone off the counter. She taps at the screen with her pointer, pulling up the web browser.
“A hug.”
She freezes in place for a moment before setting the phone down. “You never have to ask for that.” Her arms wrap around me, holding on to me tightly.
“Thank you for not giving up on me,” I say under my breath. These words are for no one else but her.
Her grip tightens and her neck cranes to the side until she’s able to place a light kiss on my head. “I would never give up on you, Nova. You will always be worth saving.”
Unable to form words, I just hug her tighter.
Hoping the touch can convey everything I’m unable to say.
I know now that I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places.
It was all I had ever been taught. But the truth is, love is something that flows freely around us.
An endless supply that’s just waiting to be tapped for those who are willing to find it.
Looking at these three people makes me feel as though I have finally hit the jackpot.
My dark days don’t have to be so lonesome.
The bright days can be shared, something that won’t ever have to be celebrated alone again.
For the first time in my life, not only can I see my future, but I actually want to get better.
“Mom?” I use a hush toned so not to wake her if sleep has found her. We had curled up in my bed together, doom scrolling while the night grew darker and darker.
“Mmm,” She groans out, rolling her head off my shoulder to look at me. Dark circles paint the underneath of her eyes, the exhaustion really starting to get to her. “What’s up?”
I bite my lip, debating on if I really want to know the answer. “What happened to my door?”
She rubs her palm into her left eye, attempting to wipe the sleep from it. “What do you mean?”
“It’s damaged. One of the hinges is incredibly loose, and the wood around it is splintering. It looks like it’s been kicked.”
“Oh…” She responds slowly, dropping our eye contact.
Her hands wiggle out from under the cover and take one of mine in each.
Her skin feels soft against mine. Mom rubs her thumbs against the sides of my pinkies.
“When you left, I used to sleep in here. A little bit of missing you and self preservation, I guess.” A heavy sigh falls from her, carrying the pain of what’s to come next.
“It wasn’t always the greatest place to take refuge. ”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
Her watery eyes look up and search mine for understanding.
As if the answer was something I should just know.
“The benefit of doubt can go a long way, SuperNova. If you’re not careful, the line where you’re supposed to stop will blur.
” She lets go of me, raising her arms above her head as a yawn escapes her.
My eyes track her as she slowly climbs out the bed, presumably heading for her own. “Do you think he’ll be better?”
She turns to me, her optimism pouring out of her. It’s as though her body isn’t able to contain the hope, so it leaks it from her pores and settles into the air around her. “I’m willing to give him the benefit of doubt.”
Mom turns, slowly shutting the door behind her as she exits the room.
I roll over in bed, reaching out to turn off the lamp that sits on my bedside table.
Just as the light clicks off my phone buzzes.
The screen creates a soft blue glow that illuminates the room.
Another buzz comes through, right as the clock on the screen hits One AM.
I prop myself up on the pillows and grab the device.
Two messages.
One name.
Luke: Saint needs you
Luke: He’s went somewhere dark