Lauren

 

When Saturday rolled around and I remembered my invitation to go paint at Irma’s, I didn’t hesitate. I needed a break and there was something restful about her house. It was a comfortable mix of glass doorknobs, heirloom tablecloths, mason jars, and eclectic art. Besides, I was avoiding her grandson, not her.

So, right after breakfast, I gathered up my watercolors and favorite brushes, then headed over. Fortunately, Jake’s truck wasn’t parked in the driveway. I reminded myself that I was glad about that.

When I knocked on the door, Irma invited me in with a warm smile and took me straight back to her studio. Two hours later, we sat on her vinyl couch, eating her applesauce bread with the tips of our paint-spattered fingers.

“Do you think I’ll ever be an artist?” I asked her.

She snorted. “Why do you care what I think?”

“Because you are one.”

She spread butter on another piece of bread and glared at me. “Only you can decide if you’re an artist or not.” She waved a hand at my paint-streaked arms. “You look like one to me, though.”

“But how do you know when you’ve learned enough to call yourself an artist without feeling like a fraud?”

She nodded and her eyes looked as if she was staring off at something far away. “I used to wonder about it too. A lot of people tried to tell me I shouldn’t spend so much time on it, that there were more important things to do. One of the many things I loved about Joe was he always knew I needed to be true to this part of myself. All through our years of being poor and raising kids, he made sure I had time to pursue it.”

“That’s awesome. You loved each other a lot, didn’t you?”

Irma nodded absently. “The person you marry is everything. It’s the most important decision you’ll ever make. I wish more people understood that.”

“My parents love each other too. I want what they have someday.”

After a few minutes of silence while we ate, Irma said, “So, Jake said he wasn’t going to come over while you were here because you’re mad at him.”

“I’m not mad at him, exactly. It’s just better if we don’t spend so much time together.”

“Ha!” She clapped her hands together and smiled as if I’d just said something wonderful.

“What?” I asked, totally confused.

“If he wasn’t getting under your skin you wouldn’t be trying to avoid him.”

My cheeks flushed pink. She laughed and stood up, leaving her plate on the coffee table.

“Well,” she said, “time to get back to work. We can’t waste any more of this beautiful day. Before we know it, those bright green leaves outside are going to be changing colors.”

“I can’t believe it’s actually seventy degrees outside,” I answered, grabbing onto the new, safer topic.

We both sat down at our easels and worked quietly together for the next few hours. I put my earbuds in and before I knew it, I was lost to everything but capturing the dappled sunlight on the lawn outside. I didn’t lose focus until movement across the room caught my attention. I looked up to see Jake in the doorway with several take out bags and a drink carrier. Then a glorious aroma wafted over me.

He held the bags up in the air. “I brought you ladies some lunch.”

“A peace offering?” Grams asked, smiling though she didn’t stop working.

Jake glanced at me and smiled ruefully. “Yeah. You could say that.”

He set one bag down next to Irma. “I know how you forget to eat when you’re working. I got you a patty melt and a chocolate malt.”

She set her brush down. “Well that’s worth taking a break for.” She picked up the bag and peered inside.

Jake walked towards me, hesitantly, as if afraid I would fly away like a startled bird. “And for you, I got a BBQ bacon cheeseburger and their house-brewed root beer.”

My mouth fell open, but I had to close it quickly before drool escaped. I couldn’t give in that easily though. “Well, way to stereotype. You think that because I wear boots I like BBQ sauce and meat?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You can have my fish sandwich if you’d rather.”

“Give me that burger.”

He laughed as I stood and took off the apron Irma had loaned me. Jake handed over my food and we sat on the couch to eat, but Irma left, saying “I’m going to eat in the kitchen and read my newspaper.”

When she was gone, I glanced across at Jake, overly aware how alone we were. Hadn’t I been trying to avoid situations like this? Glad for something to do, I pulled my burger out and took a bite. It was thick and juicy—basically the best thing I’d eaten for weeks. “Oh, my gosh,” I said. “That is an amazing burger. Where did you get it?”

“There’s this cool, old-fashioned drive-in not far from the college. I only know about it though because Grams likes it. She’s been going there for decades.”

“You’ll have to show me where it is, because as soon as I get my first paycheck, I’m going back for another one of these.”

Jake ate a tater-tot and studied me. “That would require talking to me again.”

“I’m already talking to you.” I took another bite to hide my blush.

“Only because I plied you with food.”

I nodded my head, too busy eating to answer.

“Okay, so, if I promise to keep my mouth shut about…”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“…things you don’t want to talk about, can we go back to being friends?”

“It’s not working,” I said, taking a sip of my soda. The taste of caramel and sarsaparilla exploded in my mouth. “Okay, whoa. That’s the best root beer I’ve ever had.”

Jake laughed and shook his head at me. Then growing serious, he said, “Look, I don’t care what you call us. Just don’t cut me out of your life.”

I turned and faced him. “You can’t keep flirting with me.”

He met my eyes. “I haven’t flirted with you since the first time we met.”

His words and tone sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t say things like that.”

He shrugged and picked up his sandwich. “I don’t think you know what flirting means.”

“Of course I do.”

“Look it up some time,” he said, taking a bite.

“Whatever.” I pressed my lips together and tried to sort out my feelings. “Can you please let me relax and figure things out?”

He looked hard at me, raising an eyebrow. “So, you’re asking me to wait?”

“No.” I sighed and grabbed my ponytail, tugging on it nervously. “You’re confusing me.”

“Now that I am doing. I admit it. I want you thoroughly confused.”

“See? So, stop already. If you’ll stop making me question everything, I’ll stop avoiding you.”

“I’m not sure that’s entirely within my powers, but I’ll try.”

“Great, then welcome back into my small circle of friends. Now, let me eat.”

 

***

 

When I got back to the house, I nearly ran into Natalie coming out of the laundry room with a basket of clean clothes. “Hey, where have you been?” she asked.

I stared at her for three seconds, not answering, but my brothers always told me not to bother lying because I wasn’t any good at it. “At Irma Bellfonte’s house.”

“Who’s that?”

I gave a tiny sigh and confessed, “Jake’s grandma.”

Natalie’s eyebrows drew together and she set her basket down by the stairs. “Wait, what? How do you know her?”

“Um, Jake introduced us because we’re both artists.”

“Do you and Jake see each other a lot?”

“It’s a small building,” I said, my face starting to flush. “Of course we do.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why would I? It’s no big deal.” Except that it was, so I prayed she wouldn’t be able tell I was lying—which is probably not the best thing to pray about.

But then she surprised me by asking, “Does he ever ask about me? Or talk about me?”

Somehow, I had to escape this conversation. “No. We mostly just talk about art.”

“What about that pretty girl with the blue hair? Does he ever talk to her?”

I let my head drop back in frustration. “I don’t know, Natalie. Why don’t you ask him?”

She shrugged and picked up her basket again. “Because I don’t want to sound desperate. But I am going to ask him if he’ll go to the dance at the Union in a few weeks. Did you hear about it?”

“Yeah. Nick said we’re going because he got guilted into buying tickets for it.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s a fundraiser for cancer research or saving birds or something.”

“Or something,” I said dryly. I used to think Natalie had it all together, but she was actually clueless about some things. Like Jake.

My phone rang, and I used it as an excuse to step away. It was my mom.

“I haven’t heard from you for a couple of days,” she said. “How’s your job going?”

I went into my room and closed the door behind me. “Oh, it’s fine. I like it.”

“How’s everything else going?”

I didn’t know how to tell her I was having doubts about Nick. And I needed to be careful not to mention Jake too often. Searching my brain for something neutral to say, I landed on, “I’m nearly finished with a great landscape.”

If I talked about art, my mom would never suspect I wanted to come home and bury myself in one of her hugs.