I'm Old I'm Young

I made myself get up and walk out in to the hallway.  There was a strong odor of fresh paint.  I opened th edoor to my room and stood in the doorway.  It was much cleaner looking except for the large heap in the center of the floor.  I walked around the edge of the tarped pile and inspected the walls and trim.  I made my way back to the doorway.  This will do.  Why should I move out of this bigger room to run from something that wasn't IN this room and wouldn't ever be again.  I didn't see him lurking in the corners or feel like he was cowering in the closet.  No matter where I went he was in my head and moving out of this room wasn't going to take care of that.  Purging him from my head was completely up to me.  How to do it was a mystery.  I stared in to the room.  I felt that happy feeling from this morning when I woke up.  All right then, taking back control is all I have to do. I turned on my heel and went to the kitchen.  Mom had left cinnamon rolls on the table.  I poured myself a cup of their still warm coffee and ate four cinnamon rolls and felt content as I took the last of the coffee from the coffee maker and went out the back door and sat on the top step.

Take control of my life.

What does that mean?  I've heard that said in so many contexts over the years that it almost seems meaningless.  I've got a job, am going to go to school.  Shawn has come into my life, what will come of it is not necessarily in my control.  I'm not eve sure what I'm hoping for with Shawn.  Never have I even allowed myself to think about somebody being my life like this.  Like what?  Do I tell him?  And scare him away?  How could I not tell him something like this.  How would I tell him something like this?

I played out a scenario in my head, one of many to come I'm sure.  Telling Shawn and him looking at me with pity.  Gradually he pulls away and can't even touch me.  I look in his eyes and see the look I fear the most.  He sees me and sees a damaged person.  I can't fix that.  Forever he will see me and see what happened to me and thats who I will be to him.  I blink my eyes to focus on looking towards the backyard instead of picturing his face.

"Hey."  Startled I turn my head to see Mary standing next to the back steps.  Just two feet from me.  "Where were you?"

"No where I wanted to be."

"Oh, I guess we've all been there."  I slid over and she sat on the step next to me.   "What's up?"

"I painted my room.  I guess I should say Shawn and I painted my room."

"Really?  That's sounds good.  I haven't seen you for a few days and the next thing I know you have a guy in your room."

"Interesting don't you think?  I didn't want to lose all of my good mood from this morning so I am going to try to head this off.

"Yes.  I think I would say that's interesting.  Have you talked to Tim?"  I didn't see that coming.  I thought I was in for the long haul to explain my time with Shawn.  I liked this better.  Let's talk about her.

"Yeah."  I nearly forgot my talk the other night because of being with Shawn last night.  "He was over the other day.  Stayed for dinner."

"Oh..."   Quietly.  Too quietly.

"What's going on Mary?  You said you weren't interested in seeing him anymore."

"I'm not.  I don't think I am.  But I can't stop thinking about him."   I leaned back to the door and laid against it looking at the back of her head.  She put her chin in her hands and her elbows on her knees.  "That doesn't make much sense does it?"

"Maybe it will if you explain it."

"I don't know what to explain.  I mean, when I was with him I didn't feel any excitement.  No thrill.  You know?  Like waiting for him to touch me or kiss me or something.  I felt comfortable with him.  Maybe I want something more than comfortable."   She twisted around to look at me.  "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About me and Tim goof.  I mean, can I not like this wonderful guy because of.....what?  It doesn't make sense to me at all."  

"Me either.  You obviously think he's wonderful.  You like him.  But you don't like him.  I can't make sense of it.  You think you want more what?  Danger?  What kind of excitement do you think you want?"

"I don't know."  She dropped back to the door and laid back turning her head to look at me.  "I was hoping you would."  She smiled and I laughed which made me sit up because laughing made me bounce my head off of the door.

"You don't trust me with my own life and you think I have the answers for you?"

She smiled.  "Kind of ironic huh?"

"Just out of curiosity, why do you have to decide NOW what you want from a relationship with Tim?"

"What dya mean?"  She sat back up next to me again.  She sure was getting tan.

"I just don't understand whatever happened to the purpose of dating.  Why do we, me, you, whoever..have to be with someone and decide within hours it seems, on whether this is serious or not?  I thought dating was about discovering someone else, their likes, dislikes, what you have in common and what you will never agree on."

"I wouldn't say we decided in hours.  We were seeing each other for months."

"So."  She bugged her eyes at me in an 'explain that please' kind of look I was familiar with.  "Months don't necessarily seem long enough to me to discover everything about a person.  You said you liked him and think he's wonderful.  Why can't you be with him and have a good time?  See a movie.  Go dancing.  You know...go out."

"Sounds just peachy Nicky.  But he wanted this commitment thing I and I didn't know if I could.  I mean, what if someone did come along that gave me that thrill?  Someone who's touch I did wait for and anticipate.  Then what?  I told him I didn't know what I was feeling about all of this."

"Can't you say all of this to him?  Why can't you see him with a commitment?"

"Girl, you are making no sense.  You just said why do we have to be in a hurry to be serious, now you say make a commitment."  She flipped her hair as she shook her head.

"I guess on one hand I can't blame him.  There's a lot of stuff out there you don't get by being monogamous.    But why can't you make a commitment to be honest?  You'll see him.  Hang out with him.  Have fun with him.  But you don't know that it's going to develop in to any thing more."

"Thanks."  Very dry and injured.  "Thanks Nicky.  Just what do you think I'm doing anyway?"

"Lighten up."  I punched her in the arm like I had seen her brother do thousands of times.   "I don't think you're doing anything.  Why can't you make a commitment to him telling him you will see only him while you are seeing him but you'll be honest if someone else comes along that you're interested in."

"That sounds almost cruel.  I mean, tell a guy I'll stay with him until someone else comes along."  She was in one foul and grumpy mood.

"Mary"  I tried to mimick her as best I could as she always says to me "do you need to feel bad right now?"  At first she sat there stony faced but as I stared at her she slowly started to smile.

"Yes damnit.  I think I do."

"Fine then.  You let me know when you are ready to stop feeling bad."  I liked pulling her own counseling tricks on her.  She returned the punch to my arm.

"Sometimes Nicky what you say sounds so...young.  But for some reason it makes sense."  I sound young?  I thought she said I seemed old to her.  I'm letting it pass.  I made her go upstairs with me and see my room.  She ended up helping me put everything back in order and drag that bulky tarp down to the basement.  We spent the time talking about Shawn and she became almost giddy talking about him.  We stopped in the kitchen on the way back up from the basement for some cranberry juice to drink.  We sat at the kitchen table.

Sleep

I went down the hall to the guest room.  I hardly ever went in there.  I opened the door and went in without turning the light on.  It was nice, comfortable.  The walls were off white with a green border hand stenciled around the top of the room.  There was a bed spread that matched the border.  Or maybe the border matched the bed spread.  A TV.  A phone on the night stand, even though we all have our own cell phones mom and dad keep the house phones, the old land lines.  A dresser with a picture of me, mom and dad from when I was about ten.  And a chair.  I told mom it reminded me of a hotel room.  She laughed and said that's what she wanted.  Fortunately there weren't any bad feelings associated with this room.  Actually I had often thought of asking mom if I could have this room.  But then that would involve a whole lot of change.  For me anyway.  I took the remote from the TV, closed the door and got right in to the bed.  It was a lot softer than mine, fluffier feeling.  I let myself sink in to the mattress and couldn't believe how sore I felt and how good the bed  felt.  I turned on the TV and spent two minutes flipping through channels before turning it off and just laying there in the dark.

Now I can think.  There was the entire day waiting for me.  Slowly I let myself relive the entire afternoon.  I would catch myself looking at him and he would smile, I would catch him looking at me and I would smile.  While we painted we would talk for a spell and be quiet for a spell.  And either way I was surprised by my feelings.  They couldn't last.  Could they?  This was so wonderfully new to me but I felt too old to be enjoying it.  I felt too old for it to be new.  Something was in the way.

I lay flat on my back with my arms by my side, I didn't want to mess up the bed.  Why can't I mess up the damn bed!!!!!!!!!!!!   I threw the bed spread back and kicked my feet up to loosen the sheet and blanket I kept tight around me.  I lay there for a few minutes.  But it was a forced few minutes.  I got out of the bed and straightened it and climbed back in.  This bed was comfortable.  What was I thinking about?

Something was in the way.  This isn't right.  And it isn't fair!  Why can't I let this happen without beating it to death.  I am not too old for this.  This new feeling.  Not to say I hadn't had a crush on a boy before.  But I never acted on it.  I always felt like that was something that I wasn't meant to be a part of.  All of that young stuff.  I did feel too old for it.  But why?  Why would a ten year old feel too old for a crush?  And why do I feel like that now?  I felt so tense and this made me angry.  I realized my fists were clenched and had to consciously loosen them, open them and lay them down on the bed.

Damn him.  Damn him.  This time I clenched my fists and pushed them forcefully into the mattress.  Instead of picturing Shawn I pictured Doug.  Looking at me.  That last day, saying he thought I liked all of this.  I closed my eyes and sucked in all of the air I could and tried to expel him with the breath I finally let out.  He was still there.  Why did I let him do this to me?

Shawn.  Shawn.  Shawn.  I don't want to think of Doug.  Shawn.  Shawn.  I sat up and pictured Shawn in my room, painting, talking.  I even heard him singing quietly to a few songs and remembered the smile I felt when I heard him sing.  I lay down.  I pictured Shawn eating pizza with us.  When we were in the bathroom taking care of his eye and I liked that feeling of comfort I had with him.  Come to think of it, I wasn't scared to be with him in my bedroom with the door closed.  Shawn was good. I felt that.

I woke in the morning feeling relaxed and happy.  I lay there for a minute trying to remember why.   Shawn.  My dreams had been full of just kissing him.  No, not just kissing him, but the feeling of not being scared of kissing him.  No fear.  I had slept.  I moved my head back and forth.  My neck didn't hurt. I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest.  This room seemed so bright, which I don't usually like.  But it felt, no, I felt so....bright myself.  I thought of my room and almost cringed.  I can't believe I left my room like that all night.  I sat there wanting to move to go finish it but not wanting to move out of this feeling.  I flopped back on the bed.  This was a good room.  It was like being in another world.  There was no past in here.  No darkness, no secrets, nothing to weigh me down.  What would be so difficult about making this my room.  It was like being in a new house, it was fresh, it was different.   

It wasn't my room.

How Do I Feel About This

I couldn't bring myself to look directly in his face so I tired to focus on his ear or neck.  I have to answer him.  How do I answer him.  Before I could deliberate any more I said "okay".

"Okay".  He repeated the word quietly, almost to himself.  I think we both breathed a little easier.  "Well, I guess we should probably go try to finish that room of yours."

"I think mom and dad are upstairs and I don't want to bother them.  I better wait until tomorrow."

"All right, but does that mean our date is off?"

"No.  We're almost done.  I'll finish it in the morning and be ready by whenever you want to go."

"I have to work until six.  I can pick you up around seven?"

"Okay."  I was looking towards the other end of the porch and I could see his hand coming towards my face in my peripheral vision.  I didn't move.  Softly he touched my cheek.  Then placed his fingers on my chin and pulled my face towards him.

"I hope you get more comfortable with me."  He dropped his hand.

"What do you mean?"

"I think you're worse than I am.  I have a hard time opening up to new people and feeling comfortable with them.  I just get the impression after these last few days that you may find that hard too."

Is this what I have to do?  Make him fight for this?  Without knowing why or where I got the courage I leaned forward and kissed him.  Ever so slightly he leaned into me and I have never felt such feelings from a touch.  It was gentle.  Soft.  And wanted.  He didn't reach out to touch me or grab me.  I absorbed the smell of paint, turpentine, his still slightly pepperoni-ed breath.  We pulled apart but stayed face to face.

"I'm really looking forward to this summer Nicky."

"Me too."  From the kitchen a light shown through the house and made a slight play on his face.  His eyes were still a little red looking and a few specks of paint were flecked on his forehead. I couldn't resist as I reached up to touch his cheek.  Briefly I ran a finger on his cheek.  And then let my hand drop.

"I suppose I should gt going?"  Weird as it may sound I couldn't wait for him to leave.  I wanted to think about this.  I think I had enough for one day and I knew I would spend the night re-living it and making sense of it.

I needed to be alone with how I felt.

How did I feel?

"Probably."  He stood up and I went with him to the steps.  I stopped as he went down the steps.  I think he expected me to go to his car with him but I didn't realize it in time.  I am going to be clumsy at this.  At the bottom of the steps he turned to look at me but I wasn't there and he looked up to see me at the top of the steps.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'll be ready."

"Okay."

"Okay."  I watched until he was in the car and starting to leave then I went in to the house.  I locked up and went upstairs.  I went to my room and was disappointed at the mess that lay in there.  I walked in to start working and stopped inside the door.  It was all painted.  I just needed to do a double check and make sure it didn't need another coat and clean everything up and put everything back.  I looked around at 'that was all I have to do' and was suddenly very tired.  Too tired.  I took the brushes and rollers to the basement and cleaned them and propped them in the utility sink to dry.  I went to my room and flipped the tarp around until I could get some clean underwear and pajamas.  In the bathroom I shed all of my grimy clothes and the rest of the grime in the shower.  I fought off thinking of Shawn.  Not yet.  Not until I was completely alone and not doing anything.  I finished showering, teeth brushing and dressing and went to mom and dad's room to say goodnight.

Mom was reading and dad was watching TV.

"Just wanted to say good night."  Expectantly mom laid her book down and dad turned down the TV.  Now what am I suppose to say.

"We looked in the room.  It's going to look nice."  I smiled and hoped this was a way out.

"I thought so, looks better than I thought it would."

"That was nice of Shawn to come over and help."  Here we go.  

"Yep."  I have to say more than 'yep' or they will never forgive me.   "Uhm..I'm going out tomorrow night.   If that's okay I mean."  Criminy I don't even know how to ask my parents for permission to go on a date.  Do I even have to ask?  Too sad for even me to think about.

Mom smiled and looked at dad who took over.  "I would think it's okay if that's what you want to do.  I guess we can trust you enough to know if that's what you want to do."  He must have noticed the bewilderment on my face.  "What I mean is, I don't think you have to ask us permission to go on a date."

"Oh...okay."  I couldn't even do that right for them.  They missed out on that whole deal.

"But I think you need to let us know when you are going and when you will be back."  Mom piped in quickly. "I mean, so we don't worry and everything.   And..."  She looked at dad and I could tell she was going to say something they hadn't discussed.  "I think you need to be home by a decent time, maybe...one?"  Actually I felt relieved.  There was still time for them to be parental and do that thing that parents do.

"Okay."  That seemed to be a good word for the night.  I felt good that they still had that and even that they thought I still needed that I guess.  "I think I can do that."  Aside from the graduation party I don't think there were a whole lot of occasions that I ever had to worry about a one a.m. curfew.  For them, and tonight for me, I went to them and kissed them good night.  I backed up to the doorway.  "I think I'll sleep in the guest room tonight.  The tarp doesn't look too comfortable."

They smiled and returned to their book and TV.  

Where I Am

We stopped long enough to eat with mom and dad.  I could see his nervousness and I felt sorry for him.  Mom and dad tried hard to include him and at the same time not put him on the spot.  They did discover that he was leaving in the fall for a college in Ohio and had a partial scholarship.  He was leaving in the fall?

Immediately my brain somersaulted off into the future plotting out everything that was going to happen between now and then with me life.  But I had to stop.  I had already done this plotting and planning and knew what was going to happen.  But that was just with me.  Was there a chance there would be someone else to consider in my life?  What would that do to my plans?  I quickly tried to fit him in and still keep the same plan.  How can I plan this when I don't have a clue what his plan is?  How can I plan his feelings?  How can I plan mine?  For crying out loud I haven't figured out my past eighteen years how am I going to figure out the next four months?

I felt sweaty and it wasn't from the painting.  I found myself laughing at dad teasing mom.  I don't know what about, but mom was smiling and so was Shawn so I did it again.  Thinking about something else and missed the part of my life I was in right now.  What can't I stay where I am!

"I guess if I want my room finished I need to drag you back up there go get busy."  Shawn rolled his eyes but jumped up readily enough.  Mom was beside herslef and I think dad was catching her fever.  I gave them both a 'calm down' look as I went past them.  I could hear them start to chatter as soon as I headed up the stairs.  In my room I turned the music a little louder but closed my door so it wouldn't bother them.

"That wasn't so bad was it?"  I laughed as he crumpled towards the tarp covered pile in the middle of the floor. 

"No, not so bad.  I'll get use to them."  We were standing fairly close and the hair on my arms and neck were standing straight up.  "If that's okay with you."

"I think so."   How do I do this?

"You think so?  Do you need more time to think about it?"

"I was afraid to speak, my throat felt very thin.  Like a sound coming out of it would burst it.

"I mean, okay, yes, I'm nervous too but Nicky I can't wait anymore to see what can happen with us.  I'm going away to school.  I have now, this summer, to get to know you.  I don't want to leave here and take a chance that someone else wants to get to know you.  I want you to get to know me."  He stopped to breath.  Very deeply.  He looked at me.  But stood still, where he was.   "Okay.  I have practiced talking to you a hundred times and they all sounded better than right now. I want to get to know you. I like you Nicky.  And I would like to spend this summer talking to you, doing things with you.  What ever you want to do.  But I want us to start right now.  Not six weeks from now."  He looked up at the ceiling.  I think he wanted me to say something but I was afraid to use any part of my body because I didn't think it would function right.

Here is a boy.  A guy.  Whatever!  And he wants to be with me.  Why?  Can't he tell?  Maybe he can't, but he will.  Then what?  How could he possibly be interested in me with everything that is wrong with me?

He took a step closer and I could feel my insides tremble.  "Nickie I don't know a whole lot about you.  But I feel like I have to promise you I won't hurt you.  I don't know why.  But it's a promise I will make to you right now and I will keep it.  Just tell me 'okay'.  Just say that and we'll go from here.  If you say anything else than I know I should let it go."

"Okay."  It popped out before I could analyze it.  Thankfully.

"Um, is that an okay because it's okay, or is that an okay I should let it go?"  I knew he was trying to be funny but he was also still nervous.  Already I knew that about him.

"Okay, you said to say okay and that's the okay I'm saying."

"Okay?"

"Okay."   His smile was one of relief.  I could tell that too.  If he was as scared and nervous as I was then I don't know how we got to where we were standing with no light between us.  I could feel the heat from his shirt and surely that was his heart pounding against my chest.  Or was it mine beating against his?  I couldn't tell who's it was.  He reached his hand to my shoulder and slid it behind my neck and in an instant I don't know where all of the heat went to.  I was clod.  A thrilling, chilling cold of anticipation.  What I feared most, was fearing his touch.  When his hand slid behind my neck there was a tinge of fear.  But his hand turned and he caressed my neck pulling his hand back out.  He slid his hand down my arm and took my hand.  Pulling my hand up between us he clasped it between his two hands and held it to his chest.  

"Part of me wants to rush everything because I want you to feel like I do Nicky. "  My forehead was a fraction of a hair's width from his chin and he nudged my forehead back with his chin so that I was looking at him.  His eyes were big, brown .... and watering.  Didn't look like tears.  He kept blinking.

"What's wrong Shawn?"  He dropped his head and smiled.  He let go of my hand and his hand went to his left eye.  

"There's something in my eye."  

"Why didn't you say something?"  I opened the bedroom door and took his hand leading him to my bathroom.  "Wash your eye out."

"I can't, I have my contacts in."  

"Take it out.  I'll get some of my mom's saline solution.  You can wash your contact off with it."  I went to mom's room and interrupted their conversation.   "Sorry, but Shawn has something in his eye, can I get your saline for him?"  Mom went to the bathroom and came back with a bottle of the clear liquid.  As I left the room I heard mom say something about me taking care of him  God she was so hopeful.  Pangs of sorrow for her found their way to my heart.

I walked in the bathroom and Shawn was standing there with his left eye shut and his right for finger sticking out.  Quickly I washed my hands and then took his contact.  While I held his contact I watched him wash out his eye which was by now red and a little puffy. I must have been watching him pretty intently, I didn't notice him watching me in the mirror until he spoke.  

"Sorry, I was trying to pretend like it didn't bother me."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to ruin the moment."  You didn't, is what I wanted to say as I held there with my hand out cradling his contact in my palm.  I suddenly realized how personal this may seem to him.  Me standing next to him in the bathroom casually holding his contact while he washed out his eye.  I couldn't help but smile one of those uncontrollable happy smiles that come over you and you can't exactly explain it.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"I don't really know.  I think it's because I don't normally stand in bathrooms with guys holding their contact and feeling comfortable about it."  He took the contact and started to wash it off with the saline.

"Feeling comfortable about what?  The guy or the contact?"  He watched me in the mirror.

"Both I guess.  Just seems kind of personal to me.  I don't usually feel this comfortable with others."  He had his head back and was putting in his contact.  He blinked a few times and then washed his hands and dried them on the hand towel I was glad I had put out fresh earlier.

He turned to look  at me direct instead of through the mirror.  "You feel comfortable wtih me?"  He didn't move to touch me but I felt like we were very intimate.

"I think so."  He grinned and crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter. 

"You think so?  I guess I'm kind of glad that you don't normally feel comfortable with others.  But it also sounds kind of sad."

I looked at him for a minute to see if he thought there was more to what he said.  I smiled thinking I could throw him off.   "Let's go to the porch for some fresh air, I think we are full of fumes."  I led the way and he followed.  I went to the kitchen first and got some water with him just following me quietly.  We made our way to the porch and sat on the swing.  With respectable distance between us I might add.  The moment in the bedroom seemed to have disappeared and I felt a little bewildered.  I wasn't sure if I was glad about that, or was I disappointed?

Slowly we let the swing go to and fro.  He pretty much controlled the swing with his longer legs.  I sat back far enough to where my feet just barely touched the porch.  My mind was a whirl with thoughts, pictures and scenarios.  In my head he kissed me a hundred different ways.  That first kiss.  Then I pictured him leaving without touching me again and I felt somewhat relieved.

"Nickie?"  For an answer I turned to look at him.  "About what I was trying to say upstairs."   He shifted on the swing to sit sideways and look at me.  "I mean what I was trying to say. I want to spend this summer with you.  And I was hoping that you might want the same thing."  His hand reached out and brushed along my forehead.   

What Is Normal? Can I Be?

I ran to the basement and gathered rollers, pans, brushes and a little foam brush to do the trim which I hoped worked because I didn't want to tape all of the trim.  I just wanted to paint it and be done.  I went back to the basement after carrying all of that upstairs and grabbed the old fan off of the shelf.  I opened all of the windows in my room and set the fan in the middle window and turned it on to suck the paint smell out of the room.

By the time Shaun got there I had the foam brush and was starting the trim around the closet door.  I ran downstairs to let him in.  He was dressed in old shorts that showed off some very tan and very well shaped legs. An old t-shirt of some baseball team that looked like it had been through a few other paint jobs.  My chest did a little flip flop when he smiled at me and then followed me upstairs.  He didn't have his glasses on so I assumed he had contacts in.  I liked how he looked with his glasses.  Without his glasses made him look much younger.  I was pretty embarrassed by the way I looked but he did ask for this.

"So you need to get this done today?"  He said as he looked in to my room.  "You're kidding, right?"  He looked around the room.  

"You don't think we can? It's 'one coat' paint."  I pointed at the can.

He just looked at me and smiled.  "We'll see, but this is a pretty big room.  And you'll be lucky if it really covers in one coat."

"I think we can do it.  Besides, I won't be able to stand it if I don't get it done."  I picked up the foam brush and the old butter container I was using as a little bucket.  "From the looks of your shirt you've done this before."  

"We just painted most of the inside of your house and I helped my older brother paint his not too long ago.  Good thing I saved my grubbies."  He gestured to his clothes.  He didn't wait for me to tell him what to do.  He took a brush and started on the trim around the windows after putting the paint can at his feet.  I really like the look of this color going on over the yellow.  The yellow was just too bright and doesn't suit me.

I looked over to watch him and he was carefully but quickly trimming the window.  He turned to look at me and smiled "I'm glad you let me come over."

"I can't say I mind the help.  And I'm glad you came over."  We started to talk and paint and neither of us stopped doing either until I heard mom come in downstairs.   I put the roller I was now using, down, and told him to come with me.  I couldn't believe it was after 4:00.  We walked in the kitchen and mom was standing there opening the mail.  I introduced mom to Shaun and could see she was thrilled.  She looked so happy I couldn't help but feel good.  I got some pop out of the refridgerator and handed one to Shaun.  The pop all but disappeared.  I didn't realize how raw my throat felt until I drank the pop and must have washed down all of the paint fumes with it.  

"I didn't know you were planning on painting your room today."

"I wouldn't say I was 'planning' on it.  But I didn't have anything else to do...."

"How does it look?"

"Pretty good, I like it."  Shaun was obviously a little shy as he stood there just grinning.  Mom picked up on it.

"I think I'll go up and look at it.  I'm going to put some shorts on and I'll go get some pizza for dinner.  That all right with you two?"

Shaun nodded.  He's parent shy!  "Sounds fine mom."  I got myself and Shaun a glass of ice water.  Mom left the room with a mom smile plastered on her face.  We sat at the table to take a break.

"I get so nervous around other people's parents."  He drank half of the water and got up to refill it at the sink. He sat back down.

"That's kind of funny.  I wouldn't have suspected you of being nervous around anyone."

"You've got to be kidding.  Why would you think that?"

"I don't know.  I guess I see you as popular, easy going, always comfortable.  Not the nervous type."  He looked at me like he was trying to figure something out.  His looking made me uncomfortable.  I drank my water taking care to look in my glass as I was drinking.

"I guess we aren't always what we seem."

"I guess not."

"Now if were to talk about you...."

"Let's not."  The water looked very interesting.

"It's nothing bad.  But I would have to say you're very studious.  Very serious, quiet.  You seem to always have a purpose."  I laughed and he grinned.  "Is that not true?"

"Well, I guess I always felt flighty.  Maybe not flighty.  But 'studious'?  I think that would be a stretch.  It seems kind of difficult for me to focus well enough to be considered studious."

"See what I mean?  I guess I can kind of see why you thought I was comfortable around others, because it's what I had to do.  Or what I did to get what I wanted.  I liked sports so obviously I had to be around others who were part of that world.  Coaches, other kids, parents.  Anyone 'new' in my life makes me nervous. You appear to be studious because you have to work harder at it.  But yeah...being around people isn't always easy for me.  They make me nervous."

"What about me?"  I had no problem looking at him while he spoke now.  His voice was gentle and he was trying to tell me things about himself.  He didnt' want that 'new' to be a problem.

"If I hadn't been so scared of meeting people, or worried about what you thought of me.  I would have asked you out two years ago."

"What??????"   He's liked me for two years????

"I swear."

"You are so kidding."

"No I'm not.  I've wanted to talk to you for two years."

"Why didn't you?"  I remember this conversation from the graduation party.

"I just told you."  Mom came downstairs and walked in just long enough to say the room looked nice and she was leaving to get pizza, tell dad she would be right back.  Shaun smiled at her and she floated out of the house.

"We better get back to work."  I headed up the stairs and he followed.  We picked up where he had left off.  Painting and talking.

With his back to me  he continued talking.   "Why don't you believe that I wanted to ask you out for two years?"

"I don't know.  I haven't had time to give it thought. I guess it's just funny to think about someone liking you for two years.  It's kind of flattering."

"Well....you're welcome."

"Well....thank you."  We looked at each other over our shoulders and I felt a very unfamiliar tingle of excitement.  But it was a good tingle.  Tingle isn't  a good word.  Thrill is more like it.

Fresh Paint Fresh Life

Breaking with tradition, or my newly self diagnosed OCD, I made my way to the kitchen in the morning before I took a shower so I could get a glass of pineapple juice.  Mom had left me a note on the table saying Shaun had called and then had called again because I hadn't returned his first call.  I took my juice upstairs  so I could get my shower and contemplate calling Shaun.  I went over and over  our conversation at the graduation party and then the party at his house.  I couldn't help but get excited that he was interested in me.  He sure was not difficult to look at either.  By the time I got out of my shower I was ready to call him, but nervous.  Okay, maybe I wasn't ready to call him.  But I kind of wanted to.

I towel dried my hair and pulled it back into a pony tail.  I dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt with Winnie The Pooh on it.  Mom loved buying me character t-shirts.  She said it made her happy to buy happy little creatures with happy little faces.  I think it was her way to tell me to smile more.  Or maybe she just really liked these guys.

I dialed Shaun's number and got his voice mail.  I left a message for him and hung up.  I sat on the couch.  A whole day.  With nothing to do.  I laid back on the couch  and swung my feet up on the other end.  A day made for lounging.  I closed my eyes and tried to relax.  Tim was the first thing I thought of and my brain drifted right back to yesterday.  This happened to him.  I snapped up, swung my feet back down to the floor. Nope, not going there right now.  I went to the basement, didn't mom tell me she had bought that paint I had asked for-for my bedroom?  There were two gallons of new paint sitting by the shelves filled with old paint cans, tools, paint rollers and pans, electric cords, old fan, and various items I did not recognize for use but recognized because they had been there forever.

I took the paint upstairs and set it in the hallway outside of my room.  I went in my bedroom and for five seconds stared at everything.  Bookshelves, desk, dresser, televisions, all of the things I had gathered in the last 18 years that made a running history of my life.  I went back to the basement for some boxes, found only one big box and went back upstairs to start packing.

Quickly I took things from the walls and shelves that I decided I could live with packed in a box and placed in the closet.  I couldn't get rid of anything but I could live with it in there.  I turned my stereo on to my favorite station, I wanted music blaring in the room, not through little ear buds from my ipod and took my time filling the box.  The room seemed quite bare when I was done.  It was a pretty big room but still, eighteen years of stuff adds up no matter how big the room is.  While packing everything I seemed to notice more dust than I had previously noticed or even thought possible.  So back to the basement I went for a bucket and rags.  Very quickly, because I wanted to get to the painting and have it done, I wiped down the walls and the shelves where things no longer sat.  After that was finished I returned to the basement to find the tarp dad kept there for his painting projects.  I dragged it up to my room which was no small feat.

In my head I planned all of this prep work to take a matter of minutes.  By the time I shoved all of the furniture in to the middle of the room, stripped my bed and covered it with a couple of older sheets, piled everything I could UP to make the pile smaller in circumference but higher by stragetgy, a couple of hours had passed.  Now I was sweaty, dirty and hungry.  Did I want to eat?  Yes.  Did I want to get this painted and returned to order?  Yes.  Instinct was to go and go and start painting, work until I was completely finished.  I couldn't stand the clutter and disarray.  I looked at the pile of my room, in the middle of my room, looked at the walls that I would need to wash down again because they were still not clean and had the sinking feeling my little job was not so little.  I made myself stop.  I took a deep breath.  Where as all of this going.  I looked at the once green, now spotted, tarp covered pile in the center of the floor.  I had no where to rush off to.  Go eat.  Then come back and clean again.  And paint.

As I was walking in to the kitchen the house phone rang.  It was Shaun.   "Hi Nicky, you are a hard person to get hold of."

"Sorry Shaun, Tim was over yesterday and we cooked out for mom and dad and then I was talking to dad and I didn't get a chance to call."  I almost said I forgot but I didn't want him to think I had forgotten about him.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Tim?"  There was a question in his voice but before I had to think about answering it, which I didn't want to he went on.   "Well I was calling to see if we could get together.   Maybe go out?"

"Yes.   No."

"Am I suppose to pick which one of those answers I want?  If so, I pick yes."

He made me smile.  More.  "I pick yes, but I can't today.   Not now."

"Oh."  Not as happy as he was a second ago.

"Let me explain.  I got up and didn't have anything to do so instead of lounging around doing nothing I decided to paint my room so right now I have everything scrubbed down, pushed in the middle of the floor and covered with a tarp and I was just going to eat real quick and go back upstairs and paint my room because I want it all done and put back together tonight."  I said it all in one breath, as quickly as I could because I wanted him to hear me and believe me.  Why I thought he might think I would lie to him escaped me at the moment.

"Can you breath now?"  I could hear the happy back in his voice now.  "Sounds like a lot of fun.  Why don't I come over and help you and then we can make plans for even more fun."

"I don't think so."

Silence for a beat.  "You don't want me to come over?"

"No.  No I'm not saying that.  But that just doesn't seem right."

"Well Nicky I think it would be very right.  I would really like to see you and I think we would have a good time painting and talking.  It would be like playing cards.  Conversation sure seems easier when your doing something else."

"I would feel pretty selfish having someone I just started to get to know come over here and help me paint my room."  He didn't say anything.  He was waiting for me to just say okay.  "Okay, but you have to promise to leave if you get here and think there is no way you want to spend your day painting this room."

"I'll do that.  Well, I won't do that. But if that was how I would feel I would do that.  But it isn't."

He didn't need directions and said he would be here in less than an hour.  After I hung up I hurredly ate a bowl of cereal and went to my bathroom to see how I looked.  Criminy.  I brushed my hair out and pulled it back into a pony tail again.  I felt grimy...but hey.  I'm painting here.  I washed my face and neck and felt a little better but couldn't believe I was letting him come over to one; see me like this and two; help me paint my room.

A Dad Moment

I sat on the steps and watched him drive away.  I looked to Mary's house and saw the lights on.  I was done talking for the night.  Mom and dad must have gone upstairs because I didn't hear anything through the open front door.  I locked the door behind me when I went in and went to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea to take upstairs with me.  Dad was sitting at the kitchen table reading part of the day's paper and eating a bowl of ice cream.

"Hey dad."

""Hey."  He put his paper down and watched me get a glass put ice in it and fill it with tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator.  I felt him watching me and couldn't help but smile.

"Why are you watching me?"

"I don't know.  Mind tricks maybe."

"Huh?"  I sat at the table across from him.

"I could see you fifteen years ago not being able to pour kool-aid from a pitcher, but there you are now, all grown up.  Pouring your own tea.  Funny...."  he looked back at his paper instead of at me "...how and when we see our kids grown up.  It wasn't your graduation.  It was you pouring a glass of tea."

"If it makes you feel any better I'm not all grown up."

"That's funny, sometimes I feel like you grew up years ago."  I felt sorry for him.  Again I felt like I robbed him of being a father.  A daddy.

"Oh dad."  I didn't know what to say.

"But then there are times when I feel like you're so young, innocent."

"What times?"  I was curious as to when dad saw me as young.  I wish I could see myself through his eyes.  I did not want to be a disappointment to him.

"Well, like when you get an unexpected present.  Or sometimes I see you reading a book and looking so young and absorbed in the fantasy of literature.  Even tonight, with this Tim.  I know he isn't a boyfriend but you were so young with him around.  I don't know.  I can't really explain it."  He shook his head with an embarrassed grin and looked at the paper again.  My heart was aching for him.   And me.

"You don't have to explain it. Maybe it's one of those things I'll understand when I have my own children."

"That's what it is."  He reached across the table and placed his hand over mine.  "Sometimes you just have such a sadness about you Nicky.  Maybe you are what they call 'an old soul'.  I hope that's what it is is.  I would hate to think you feel old because of me."

I placed my other hand on top of his.  "Dad you have never made me feel old anything.  You've always been a great dad."  Don't cry dad.   He didn't.  He smiled.

"Maybe I just needed to hear that."

"Maybe I should have told you more often."  He gave my hand a slight squeeze and sat back, withdrawing his warm hand.  

"You shouldn't have had to.  I was just having a melancholy moment when you came in.  Sometimes you just can't escape those."  He smiled and noticeably relaxed.  I sat there with him for awhile until we both were ready to go upstairs.  A dad  moment.  I could feel the pressure of his hand on mine until I went to sleep.  And it was a comforting feeling.