Chapter Six
Avila was intent on getting everything ready to sell the house, and that meant she had to focus only on that, nothing else.
The first thing on the agenda was to repaint the shingles. Avila placed her paintbrush into the newly opened paint can, letting
the bristles absorb the light buttercream–colored paint. Then she brushed a long stroke against one shingle. Ebony had said
that she would definitely help out with painting, but she had quit at the thirty-minute mark. Now she was puttering around
the house, probably looking through all of her grandmother’s things. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask Avila too many questions.
Avila didn’t have the mental space to rehash the past.
Christmas would be in a few days, and Avila wasn’t ready for the holiday at all. She didn’t have time to purchase presents
for Ebony. She didn’t have enough money to buy any presents either. She’d have to make up this holiday season to Ebony somehow.
Avila was certain that Ebony didn’t want to spend it repairing a house.
Back to painting. She dipped the brush in the paint can again and made another stroke on the shingle. A lot of the homeowners in this neighborhood let their shingles weather, but Avila knew that if she put fresh paint on the outside of the home, it would attract potential buyers. She had called Samantha earlier that morning to tell her that she wanted her to put the house up for sale, and they had quickly discussed some preliminary ways to get the house ready for market. Painting the shingles was one of those ways.
However, the shingles drank up a lot of paint, and so it was going to take a long time to finish this job. Maybe Ebony could
help. Nah. Let her explore. She needed this time to process everything. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, and it was
getting muggy outside, even in December. Avila would have to get used to the South again.
“Hey there.”
Terence stood before her. He looked cute in his khaki shorts and collared shirt. From what she could see, he was in shape.
He’d always been an avid runner. Her heart pitter-pattered. “You startled me.”
“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to.” He smiled. “I noticed you out here and wanted to see if you needed any help.”
She had to think about that one for a long minute. How would she respond? How should she respond? “Um.”
Avila felt him staring at her, and a bead of perspiration trickled down the small of her back. Why was she reacting like this?
It didn’t make any sense.
And why was he asking if she needed help? Didn’t he have a girlfriend or a wife to be with?
“Do you have an extra brush for me to use?”
A warm breeze rustled the nearby oak tree. “You don’t have to help me. I’m pretty sure that you’re busy.”
He glanced at the spare brush that was on top of the paint can, and then he headed over to the can and picked it up. Then he dipped it in the paint. “I’m not busy at all. The school is on a winter break, and I graded all papers. So I’m free.”
She glanced at the outfit that he was wearing. “Those clothes will get paint on them.”
He shrugged. “That’s fine with me. These are just work clothes.”
Work clothes? They certainly didn’t look that way to her. Whatever. “Suit yourself.”
They worked next to one another in silence. A part of her felt the need to fill the awkward silence, but the other side of
her brain was asking why that mattered so much. It shouldn’t matter. She reached down to dip her paintbrush in the can again,
and when she did, Avila noticed again that the ring finger on his left hand was bare.
She really wanted to know if he was still married. But that shouldn’t concern her. Avila resumed painting, but another part
of her couldn’t help but watch him on her periphery. He was taller than she was, still lean and muscular. She made a quick
glance in his direction. He had faint lines around his eyes, but he still looked handsome.
Terence hummed the Bill Withers tune “Lovely Day.” She hadn’t heard or thought of that song in ages. What was life like for
him now? He was a professor. But what else was going on? They used to spend so much time together, and she used to know so
much about him and vice versa. Now, they were practically strangers.
He glanced at her left hand. “How’s life treating you since the funeral? You doing okay?”
She set the brush in a jar of water, and a tiny splash touched her forearm. What was she supposed to say to that question? “I’m managing. Just have a lot of things to do now. I’m hoping that I’ll get everything done in time.” She paused. “I decided to get a nicer headstone for my mother’s grave. I’ll be able to place a photo of her on it. I think that’ll be a nice touch.”
“It sounds like it will be.”
“I saw Samantha the other day. She offered to help me sell the house.”
He paused. “Oh really?”
“Yeah. Something wrong with that?”
“No. I... uh. It’s just... you two weren’t close in high school. Interesting that’s she’s going to help you sell your
house now.”
“I know. She offered. I was wary at first, but I don’t really have the time to research real estate agents. I need to keep
making progress, so that I can return home.”
“I see.” Terence appeared as if he wanted to say more.
They painted in silence for a bit longer.
“What about Ebony’s father?”
Gah. Why’d Terence, of all people, have to ask about Ebony’s father? But it was the obvious next question. “What about him?”
“I don’t know. I mean. He didn’t travel down here with you.”
The muscles in her shoulders tensed. This conversation was bound to happen eventually, but she didn’t want to have it now.
Or ever. “I haven’t seen Ebony’s father since I gave birth to my daughter.” Her voice turned to steel. His absence from Ebony’s
life made a challenging situation worse, and she’d never forgive him for abandoning them.
“My goodness, Avila. I’m so sorry.” Terence faced her. “You haven’t seen him in that long?”
She nodded; the bitterness in her throat made it tough to speak.
Terence’s gaze was searching, mentally calculating or something. “Is that why you never returned home after you left for college?”
Her heart crimped. Avila hoped that Terence wouldn’t ask anything more about that. There were some things she just didn’t
want to discuss. She stepped to the side and accidentally-on-purpose knocked over the can of water that held the paintbrush.
“I’m going to have to refill this with fresh water.”
“Avila?”
She knew that tone. When he spoke like that, gently yet firmly, she knew that he was sincere in whatever he was saying. He
wanted an answer. Their gazes met, and she sensed the pleading in his question.
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Hearing him say those words was refreshing. But why didn’t he mention his wife? If he was divorced, it didn’t make sense.
He was the most easygoing person she’d ever met. He was a star athlete with a promising future, and he came from a well-to-do,
stable family. Should she ask him about his marriage? “I heard you got married right after college,” she said quickly.
“I did.” His words were curt. “If you’re wondering what happened, it just didn’t work out. We were compatible in every way
except one.”
“What’s that?”
His brown eyes didn’t flicker. “Love. We got along very well. Too well in fact. But the fire wasn’t there.”
Fire. His voice was warm and gentle, and her heart picked up a few beats.
“She knew it too,” he added. “We mutually decided to part ways. I think she’s remarried now. I hope she’s happy.”
It was just like Terence to wish someone well after a divorce. He was just that kind of person. She quickly refilled the rinsing
can, and then they painted side by side in silence.
“I just had the most random thought,” he said, putting his paintbrush in the water can. “Remember that time when we were in
eighth grade, and we were painting houses for that service project?”
“Yeah?”
His eyes brightened and he took his cell phone from his shirt pocket. After swiping through a few apps, Bill Withers’s song
“Just the Two of Us” played.
She giggled. “Oh my gosh. You have to be kidding me.”
“I’m serious.” He held his phone in the air.
When they were in eighth grade, their English teacher had a thing for Bill Withers, and so they played the song during a group
community service project. During the time, some classmates dared Avila and Terence to dance with one another. They did, and
it was completely awkward.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked.
“Huh? Dance? No way.”
“Come on.” He gestured to her. “It won’t take too much time away from painting. Last time we danced to Bill Withers we both
had two left feet. It’s time to redeem ourselves.”
She laughed; all awkwardness between them was completely gone. Terence was the best friend, the only true friend, that she ever had. Being around him made her see how much she missed interacting with him daily. He was a good listener, and he knew just the right words to say whenever she felt down. She missed that.
He had extended his hand to hers. “Shall we?”
Avila grasped his hand, and they swayed from side to side. Then she accidentally stepped on his foot.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry,” Avila said.
“Just chill. Move to the rhythm. Don’t overthink it.”
“I can’t.” His inhales and exhales tickled her forehead.
“You can do this. You can most definitely do this. Just think about the beat, the lyrics, and how they make you feel. Then
feel that. Let the feeling move you.”
Terence had pulled her closer to him, but instead of hearing music, she heard his heartbeat. That was the rhythm that caught
her attention. Instead of feeling the lyrics, she felt the warmth of his body against hers.
Avila was thrown by this feeling. Everything about her grew cold and clammy. She shouldn’t be feeling these feelings. This
was weird. This wasn’t them. They were friends, not... this.
Her palms grew clammy, and she took a deep breath, hoping that he didn’t notice. Then their movements grew subtler. He moved
with her now.
“Better,” he whispered. “Much better.”
His hands settled on the small of her back, and she fought the urge to move closer to him.
What was wrong with her? This was Terence. Her friend. That was it. She needed to stop this now. “There.” She pulled away, out of his warm embrace. “You know how to dance now. It was simple.”
Terence gave her a look that said it was way more complicated. She glanced away. He thanked her for the dance lesson.
“I couldn’t dance worth nothing back then,” he was saying to her now.
“You didn’t do too bad for yourself. You caught on quickly.”
“It was easy to do... dancing with you.”
Her tummy flipped. She gave an emotionless smile, a poor attempt to downplay his words.
Terence tilted his head to the side, as if sensing her unease at his comment. The rays from the sunlight gave his smooth skin
a bronze look.
She shifted underneath his gaze and looked away, feeling her skin heat.
“I wanted to ask you.”
“Ask what?”
“If you felt the same way that I felt when we danced that day in eighth grade.”
The timbre of his voice caught her attention. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
Terence shrugged. “We were friends, and then all of a sudden I was thinking of you as more than a friend. I didn’t know what
you’d think.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to be rejected by you if you didn’t feel the same way.”
What would she have said if he did share his feelings back then? She remembered that dance as if it were yesterday. Her own
feelings were changing at the time; she didn’t want to admit it.
“I eventually got better at dancing.” He turned up the volume on his phone. Bill Withers sang the chorus.
Avila knew what he wanted to say next, but she wasn’t ready to hear it. She had to get back to work. She reached for the paintbrush,
and he spoke.
“Thanks for dancing with me today. I know it was an awkward ask, but I just had to, given the situation.” He smiled.
Avila could dance with him again. She could snuggle up close to him and lose herself in his embrace. She could forget about
her life in New Jersey. She could forget about the stress of having to make ends meet as a single mother. She could forget
about all the times that she stayed up late at night, worrying if they were going to make the rent that month. She could just
follow someone else’s lead for a change.
Avila remembered how she felt when she had danced for a second time. It was during their high school prom. She remembered
that evening when they had sat in the car at the Dairy Queen, talking about the future. Avila laid out an intricate plan for
how she would perform on Broadway one day. Terence had said he could see her on Broadway.
Afterward, he told her that he never wanted them to lose contact with each other, no matter what happened after high school.
She agreed, but life happened.
And here they were again. The situation was both comforting and discomforting. Now, the discomfort side was winning. What
if she let herself feel something more toward him? That would make everything complicated because her life was with her daughter,
not here, not with Terence.
“I need to go into town to run some errands with Ebony.” Avila took two steps back. “I have a lot of things to do around the house, but I need to get some supplies.” She headed toward the front door, and Terence’s hands dropped to his sides.
She sensed the sadness that he felt. “Thank you for helping out today. I really appreciate it,” she said in her most unemotional
tone. “I’ll see you around.”
Avila heard Terence’s footsteps behind her, wrestling through the grass, as Avila made her way inside the house and exhaled.