“Sorry,” I quickly say, stepping back from her in the tight space. The front of her white T-shirt is completely wet and sticking to her breasts in a way that’s making my body ache and want to do bad things.
“No problem.” She licks her lips.
More bad things fill my head.
“Practice again?” she asks as she takes in my wet state.
“Yeah.” I look over her paint-stained shirt and the smudges of gray on her cheek. “Are you painting?”
“Yeah, a little. Storms make for great painting weather.”
I nod. “I remember. You used to say that all the time, always dashing home to paint before the rain let up.” I swallow, because maybe that was too revealing of just how much I know and remember about her.
“Oh. Yeah. I did.” She licks her lips again.
I need to get the hell away from her before I start licking her lips as well.
I clear my throat and shift past her. “Sorry, again, for running into you.” When I’m free and clear of her wet boobs and glistening lips, I hurry upstairs to the bathroom. After showering off the day’s workout, I shut myself in my room and stare at the blank page on my computer screen for a long time.
One essay on winning. I can do this.
I stare at the screen. Nothing.
I absently open my in-box and, sure enough, there is a response from my parents. Actually, there are four responses—all group e-mails.
I start to read.
From: Mark Andrews
To: Levi Andrews; Linda Andrews
Subject: RE: College
Levi,
First of all, please be nice to your mother. She was reaching out to you because she cares about you.
Second, our concern for you—while it may be a little late—is sincere. You’re our son, and we love you more than we could ever express.
But third, and most important, WE DO NOT BLAME YOU AT ALL for Charity’s death. And we never have. Not for a moment. What happened to Charity was a horrible accident, and your mother and I were nothing short of blessed that you weren’t killed as well. If we have made you feel guilty, in any way, for Charity’s death, then we have failed you.
It was wrong and selfish of us to leave you like we did. You were a young man in college, and I guess I assumed that meant you knew how to heal on your own. But considering I myself didn’t know how to heal, that was rather dumb reasoning on my part. And no excuse, whatsoever.
We should have stayed together, as a family. Please forgive me.
Dad
From: Linda Andrews
To: Levi Andrews; Mark Andrews
Subject: RE: College
Levi,
Oh, honey! We don’t blame you at all for what happened to Charity. I feel just awful that you thought that for even a second. And I’m so sorry for leaving you like I did.
I just didn’t know how to be around you and your father without feeling complete sadness at all the reminders of Charity, and that was wrong of me. I am so sorry. And I can’t believe I let this much time go by without seeing or speaking to you. I have failed you in so many ways.
And Sarah! Oh my Lord, I didn’t even think about Sarah. That poor thing was just left in the dust by us too. Oh, Mark—how could we have let this happen?
Clearly, I’ve made some terrible mistakes as a mother, and I don’t know how to undo them. Please forgive me for leaving. I’m so sorry. I love you, sweetie. So much.
Mom
From: Mark Andrews
To: Levi Andrews; Linda Andrews
Subject: RE: College
Linda,
Obviously we have some mistakes we need to work out concerning Levi, and Sarah also. Maybe we should talk on the phone? Do you still have my new number? I only check my e-mail on Tuesdays.
Mark
From: Linda Andrews
To: Levi Andrews; Mark Andrews
Subject: RE: College
Mark,
I agree. A good long phone conversation is overdue. Yes, I have your number still. I’ll give you a call later this week.
Linda
I sit back and gape at the screen. Well. Okay. My parents are talking—maybe even on the phone. This is good. This is a start.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Leaving me was careless of my parents. But they didn’t stop loving me. And who am I to judge them when I abandoned Pixie in the same way?
My life fell apart, a shambles everywhere, and the only thing left standing was Pixie. And then I left her. God, I still can’t believe I did that.
With a deep breath, I reply.
From: Levi Andrews
To: Linda Andrews; Mark Andrews
Subject: RE: College
Mom and Dad,
I think we all might have a lot of guilt and blame we need to let go of. Charity’s death was hard for us all. Even though I don’t understand your leaving, I forgive you guys. We’re just human. And it’s not like I’ve been a model son this past year, but I want to fix that. Maybe we could all talk on the phone one of these days?
Levi
P.S. Sarah is doing okay. She misses you guys.
I click Send and feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Hope.
53 Pixie
I stare at the tube of red paint as the storm outside rages on. There’s something inside me, something untamed and fearless, that wants nothing more than to run out into the night and feel the storm on my skin, the rain in my hair, the thunder in my bones.
Which is exactly why this is perfect painting weather.
I haven’t painted with colors since last summer. For no reason other than I just wasn’t feeling… colorful. But these past few days, something has been growing inside me. Coming to life. Waking up with demands. And I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
So I dusted off the many unopened boxes in my room and tore through them until I found my colored paints. Then I threw on some Florence + the Machine at full volume, and now here I am, standing before this blank canvas with no idea what I want to paint.
I look down at the tube again.
Red. It’s such a statement. Passionate. Unavoidable.
I turn the bottle over and squeeze a drop onto my palette. There it is. Red.
Now I just need to dip my brush in it and—oh, what the hell.
I turn my hand over and squirt a handful of paint into my palm and smear it against the canvas. It looks harsh and unwelcome against the smooth white. Like a blemish. The corner of my mouth turns up as I squirt more red into my hands and start to spread the crimson every which direction until the canvas is no longer a blank square, but a collection of red movement.