Chapter 13 Javonte
Me: I keep thinking about you sitting across from me today.
It felt like us. I don’t expect you to trust that yet, but I’d like another chance to sit with you again. Can I take you out for another fruity tea tomorrow?
I keep rereading the text. Checking to see if she’s read it and coming up with nothing.
I stare at my phone, at her last text from a year ago, then mine from earlier today.
Nobody’s responding to anyone.
She hasn’t even opened it.
I went to the gym after I sent the message. I paced. I worked out. I ran on the treadmill. I sat in the sauna.
None of it helped.
Now I’m back home, staring at this damn phone.
I look down again.
She’s read it.
I hold my breath, waiting to see the bubbles pop up. Waiting to see what she has to say, if she says anything at all.
A minute goes by.
Then another.
Then another.
Nothing.
I set my phone down and go downstairs to the kitchen. Grab a bottle of water. Walk back up the stairs slowly.
Did I ask for too much? Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her out again. I should’ve just said what I had to say and left it there.
My phone stays quiet.I look at it anyway.
If she doesn’t want to see me again...
I drag a hand over my face and don’t even let myself finish that thought.
Another five minutes goes by, then I can see that she’s typing a reply. My heart starts pounding in my ears.
Lily: I’m free tomorrow evening.
I exhale, fast.
Me: You don’t have Lit with Lily?
Lily: I just said I’m free...
Damn.
Me: My bad...I’ll pick you up at 6.
I set my phone down with a smile until another notification comes through.
Lily: What do I wear?
I freeze.
Me: Something beautiful.
I stare at my phone.
She said yes.
I smooth down the front of my shirt before I ring her doorbell. I changed this shirt four times today. Laid out six outfits. I confidently chose this one, and now I’m second guessing it.
I ring her doorbell anyway.
She opens the door with a soft smile.
My eyes go wide. She is a work of art.
She looks at me, then down at herself. “Did we match?”
I glance at my shirt, then back at her, and laugh. “We did. I tried to wear your favorite color. Apparently, you did too.”
Her happily surprised smile spreads across her face.
“You look nice.”
“So do you,” she says.
I grin like a child at this.
She doesn’t reach for my hand or do anything like that, but she steps out, locks the door, and follows me to the car.
I open the door for her like I always have, then walk slowly to the driver’s side, breathing deep, trying to calm myself.
We’ve got all night. I can’t be in my head like this. I don’t want to say the wrong thing, so I don’t say anything at all for the first few minutes of the drive.
Then it starts to feel awkward.
“You’ve been painting lately?” I ask, wincing a little. “Just for you, I mean.”
“I haven’t,” she says.
I glance at her, and she looks a little pained. “What’s going on with that?”
“I’m just busy. There’s so much going on at work. Every day there’s another fire to put out. And then I have so many Lit with Lily events that I don’t have time to do my own art.”
She looks out the window.
“I’m always outlining canvases, creating images, getting the paint ready. I’m doing everything for the business, and I never have time for myself.”
“That doesn’t sound very soothing.”
She laughs. “It’s not. It’s exhausting and time consuming. I do love it, but sometimes I don’t like it as much as I want to. Being the one who has to do not only the art, but the business side, it kind of takes the fun out of it.”
“You turned your hobby into a hustle,” I say. “And now you’re hustling too much.”
She throws her head back and laughs, and I feel it in my chest.
I missed that.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” she says.
“But you don’t want to stop, right?”
She shakes her head. “Absolutely not. If anything, I don’t want to work at HR anymore. But I don’t ever want to give up Lit with Lily.”
When we pull up to the art exhibit, she looks at me, curiosity all over her face, but she doesn’t say anything until she sees the cars. The crowd.
“Where are we?”
“The opening night of Gregor Ees artist’s exhibit.”
“What?” She turns to me, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know he had something going on.”
“It was kind of low key. I had to dig to find it.” I shrug. “But I remember you really liked his work, so I made sure we got here opening night.”
She looks at me like she’s trying to decipher something.
It feels like more than I deserve, but I’ll take it.
Her smile stays on her face, like she can’t help it. She’s practically buzzing next to me as we walk toward the building.
We fall into line, and after a second, she reaches for my hand. I take her hand carefully, because I know better now than to grab for more than she’s giving. It isn’t everything. It’s her hand in mine, and that should be small, but it doesn’t feel small to me.
Her mouth falls open when we step inside. There’s so much to look at, and his work is layered in a way that pulls you in. It’s hard to focus on just one piece when you’re surrounded by all of it.
She drops my hand.
I miss it immediately, but I get it.
She moves to the first painting near the entrance and just stands there. I step back and watch her, taking in the way her body responds to the art. She leans in, head tilted, studying it like she’s trying to pull something out of it instead of just looking at it.
She stays there so long I start looking too, trying to see what she sees.
I can’t.
I’m not about to interrupt her though. Tonight isn’t about me understanding the art. It’s about her having space to feel it.
When she finally steps back, she looks at me. Her eyes are a little glassy, and then she smiles.
It hits me right in the chest.
She turns and moves on to the next piece, and I follow her through the exhibit. We don’t talk. Three hours pass like that. Walking. Stopping. Looking.
Lily takes art in quietly. She seems to absorb it and hold it somewhere inside herself until it settles.
I can’t stop watching her.
We’ve never done this before, which doesn’t make sense when I really think about it. This is who she is.
How did I miss something like this? How did I never think to bring her somewhere like this?
The more I watch her, the clearer it gets. Where I fell short. What I didn’t see. What I didn’t give her.
I swallow it down, standing there behind her as she studies another piece.
I see it now.
I just hope it’s not too late for that to matter.