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.

Where Am I Going From Here?

"Mom and dad are going to aunt Marie's house tonight or tomorrow.  Do you mind if I stay here until they come back.  Probably Wednesday or Thursday she said."

"I think it would be great.  Didn't you want to go?"

"Yes and no.  I would have liked to have seen everyone but I think right now they are not really going to be happy like it's the holidays.  Everyone is going to be there because of what happened to Curtis.  But they asked me.  I could go, or stay at home and maybe Doug could come stay at the house with me, or stay with you.  Needless to say you are my first choice.  Besides, I wanted to hear about your date last night.  I figured it would take us about five days to make sure we covered all of the details."  I smiled, really hoping she would not pick Doug out of all of these topics, to talk about.  It was hoping for too much.

"Doug?  At your house?  I'm sorry Nicky but I don't see how you can listen to that without screaming.  How can you not tell them?"

"I don't know."  Let's just get this over with.  Her date was sounding better every minute.  I closed my eyes and put my head back in the recliner.  It was better than looking at her when I told her this.  "Mom asked me, or tried to ask me, if anyone had ever touched me.  She even apologized for not having asked before.  Of course I told her no."  I didn't want to tell Mary this.  I didn't have to tell Mary this.  Why couldn't I just shut up.

"What do you mean 'of course you told her no'?  That's what she asked you for, was so you would know you could tell her".  

I waited a beat.  Keeping my eyes closed one more second.  I sat forward and looked at her.  "See Mary, that's just it.  I don't think I can tell her.  I don't have that feeling that it would be safe to tell her.  Maybe I know that everything will change.  Nothing will ever be the same, not for them, not for me.  Without telling them I still have that life that hasn't been touched."

"No you don't".

"To them I do.  And when I'm with them I kind of do."  She dropped her head in to her hands.  I kind of knew how she felt but it's what I had to do.  Suddenly I felt very tired.  "Mary I know it doesn't make sense to you.  And again, I wish I hadn't told you for just that reason.  But for some reason, a long time ago, I decided that I shouldn't tell.  I know that goes against everything we hear about telling someone you trust.  But you know what?  All that stuff?  All that stuff you hear doesn't tell you how you feel and doesn't tell you what to do about being scared and alone with this.  I don't know why I didn't tell when I was smaller, but now I don't see the point in it.  The other day I knew it wouldn't happen again.  And even if he tried, I know I wouldn't let it happen.  Ever.  Again.  Before I didn't know I could stop it.  Now I know.  It won't happen again.  So I don't need to tell mom and dad.  I don't need them to stop it."

She spoke slowly to me.  Quietly.  "I understand that.  I think..no..I don't.  I mean I know you don't need them to stop it.  But do you think they would want this man in their house, in their lives?  Knowing what he did to you?  He's always going to be there Nicky.  Always.  Unless you tell them."

"I don't know Mary.  If you had seen him when he left.  I think he looked scared.  And he hasn't been back since."

"Nicky I'm sorry.  I don't mean to sound like a nag.  Or a know it all.  I just wish this didn't happen to you."  Crap.  she was crying.  Why was she crying?  I had no idea what to say.   "All I can think about is you being a little girl.  A little kid.  And this...this....what he did to you.  I can't help it, I knew you, I think about when we use to play ....  I feel so guilty that I didn't know.  And that I thought we both had these perfect little worlds.  Except I had a brother so you had it better because you didn't.  And all this time....this was going on."  I think I should have gone and hugged her or laugh at her attempt to make me laugh.  But I couldn't.  I couldn't move.  If I blinked I was going to cry.  Not because of me.  But because of her.  She truly felt guilty and it was my fault for making her feel that way.

We sat there being quiet.  Except for her quiet little sobs.  Until we looked at each other and smiled.  "You know Mary, we don't have to let this dominate everything in our lives.  There's other stuff going on.  Like last night.  What happened with Tim?"  She just looked at me, not saying a word.  "Mary, I need to talk about more than 'this'.  I can't just sit and think, talk, and think more about this.  We need to talk about more than this with each other.  Besides, it never bothered you before to talk about guys."  At least she smiled.  And talk we did.  About her date, about other guys at school.  About other girls at school.  And what the other girls said about the boys.  We talked until her parents and brother came home.  We went in to the kitchen where they had tons of groceries they were bringing in.

When Mary's mom saw me she came over and hugged me.  Which was par for the course.  It never bothered me when she hugged me.  But when other people did, it did bother me.  I don't know why.  "Nicky it seems like such a long time since I've seen you."

"Funny you should say that.  How would you like to see a lot of me?"  Mark stopped in his tracks and listened.  I always thought he kind of had a crush on me.

"What do you mean?"  She started sticking boxes in the pantry.

"Mom and dad wanted to go to mom's sister's house,  And of my choices of where I could go or what I could do, I was hoping I could stay here until they get back.  Which won't be until Wednesday or Thursday."

"I think that would be great.  I'll call your mom when I get done with these."  I glanced at Mark and caught a quick glance of him smiling.  But when he saw me look he rolled his eyes as if he were disgusted and went outside to help his dad get more bags.

I helped with the groceries since I was as familiar with their kitchen as I was my own.  Mary's dad came in and punched me in the arm like he always did.  He was a pretty quiet guy but pretty comfortable to be around.  Mark was everywhere but seemed to be doing nothing.  Which Mary said was par for the course.  Mary walked down to my house and we went to my room to start packing my stuff.  Mom and dad were in their room packing when I went down to ask for a suitcase.