Thirty-Two
Summer
Me: We made it.
Dad: Papi and I miss you already.
After finally getting to Ellingbrook and helping Lily move her things into her dorm room, River and I sit in his car. It’s evening now and we haven’t left the campus parking lot quite yet.
Leaving Lily in her dorm room for the night feels wrong but she insisted.
River had already offered Lily to stay at the apartment with us until school officially started, before she had to share a room with someone she doesn’t know. I wanted to offer again when she declined, but I stopped myself.
If Lily wanted to stay at River’s apartment, she would ask. She’d take up his offer.
But the sinking feeling in my stomach won’t go away and I feel like throwing up. I just want to race up there, drag her into the car, and tell her that she’s coming with us whether she likes it or not.
I know that won’t fix everything. I know that when class starts, she’ll still have to go back to her dorm. I know that coming out here is a chance for Lily to see that she doesn’t have to rely on people to take care of her, but I want to.
If I could, I would take all of Lily’s anxiety from her. I know that I’m strong enough to handle it, but maybe I’m not being fair to Lily. Maybe I’m not giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s made it this far and has stuck around for this long.
She’s going to be okay, I remind myself.
River’s hand rests on my thigh.
“Ready?” he asks me and before I can go back on my word and go get Lily, I nod my head.
The drive back to River’s apartment is quiet and even the apartment itself is still. No signs of Moose.
“Moose is over at a friend’s house,” River explains when he sees me looking around the living room.
I smile softly and hope that Moose and Bethany can figure something out, because I don’t think they should give up on each other just because of the distance that’ll be between them.
I slip my shoes off, ready to take a shower and wash today’s drive off. River watches me from his spot on the arm of the couch.
“I want to show you something,” he gently says.
“Right now?” I arch my eyebrow but step closer to River and let him take my hand to guide me down the hallway.
River chuckles. “Do you have other plans, Pretty Girl?”
I’d like to say that one day I’ll get used to that nickname, but today is not that day.
“What do you want to show me?” I grin as River sits me down on his bed.
He playfully pinches my thigh but leaves me sitting as he snatches his sketchbook from his bedside table. Instead of sitting down next to me, he crouches in front of me, setting his sketchbook in my lap.
He takes a deep breath. “Open it.”
Because I’m nosey, I don’t have to be told twice.
Most of the sketches in here are things he showed me back when that was something he did often. He has some rough sketches of shops around Ellingbrook. Animals. Other pages have nothing but scribbles, almost like he couldn’t decide what to draw but had the urge.
As I get closer to the back of the sketchbook, I notice there’s color swatches from watercolors or colored pencils.
Even small dollops of paint. With every swatch, River’s messy handwriting is under each one, reminding himself of what each color is.
Then the colors begin to show up within actual pictures.
At first, it’s just a set of hands. Then what looks like sketches of him practicing hair texture.
Then eyes.
A smile.
Then full sketches of…me.
Those sketches then turn into small paintings with partial color.
As if he started and then grew frustrated and gave up on the colors altogether.
Some pages are of me smiling or laughing.
Others I’m clearly annoyed. But some are of me studying or sleeping.
I flip the page, my breathing suddenly becoming shallow.
Hues of gold and yellow. Orange and pink. Purple and blue. They all take up the page. I’m painted in the middle of the water, floating on my back and the sun setting behind me with my eyes closed.
I reach out to touch the dried paint, reminding myself that the water isn’t real, as I look up to see River carefully watching me like no one else does.
I don’t only have his attention when I’m being useful or doing something for others.
These pictures prove that all I’ve ever had to do with River is exist. That was always enough.
I thought I was only noticed when I had something to give and here River is quietly showing me proof that I exist outside of that.
He’s never looked at me like I needed to be useful to be loved. He’s only ever looked at me like he’s always been destined to know me. As if our lives were always going to be intertwined.
“Why am I the only one in color?” I can’t help but ask.
River looks down at the painting. His smile is shy, but he meets my eyes and swallows.
I’m fully prepared for him to tell me that it’s because he was just practicing.
That he needed something familiar to work on.
Or that maybe he’s finally decided to take his art to Declan’s Art Boutique—I’m determined to persuade him.
River’s thumb brushes over the top of my hand, almost hesitating to speak. “In a world that is colorless to me, it somehow isn’t when I see you, Summer.”
I look back down at the painting, my hands gentle at the edges, as if my brain has already categorized this as something far too precious to ruin.
You’re just this warmth that I feel in my chest and no one else has ever been able to replicate that.
And to think he ever thought we’d grow to become strangers.
The End.