Page 67 of Save Me

“Surely it’s easier than painting on a canvas? Of having to make something out of nothing? At least this is straightforward… make sure the paint ends up on the wall.” She laughs.

I think about what she’s said as I turn back to the wall, running my brush up and down it a few times.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I think a canvas is a lot easier—a lot smaller—and the paint sort of tells me where it wants to go. And there’s no painter’s tape. And I never had to worry about dropping paint on the floor, at least, not at my apartment.”

“And at Jax’s?”

I smile. “I don’t think he’d care if I covered the whole place in paint splatters, as long as it meant I was painting again.”

She pauses again, and I catch her giving me a thoughtful look out of the corner of my eye. “He seems to really care about you.”

“He does,” I agree, as warmth fills my chest.

“And you’re absolutely head over heels about him,” she assesses.

“More than you know.”

“I’m happy for you, Evi, truly.”

I give her a smile and we go back to painting until my stomach growls so loudly Sam hears it from across the room.

“Sushi or pizza for lunch?” Sam asks with a smile as she puts her paintbrush down.

“Sushi!”

*

We sit onher living room floor, and now, instead of paint, it’s soy sauce I’m trying to keep off the rug, but Sam wants to revel in the beauty that is her newly painted room, so here we are.

“So,” she starts with an undertone of hesitancy in her voice, “how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I say, keeping my voice light.

“Evi …”

“Sam …”

She sighs, and I know she’s trying to get more out of me, if only to be supportive.

“I’m not going to pretend to know everything, but I do know what you told me, and I know that what you’ve been through is traumatic. Like capital T traumatic,” she says softly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I lie, focusing on the sushi I’m dipping into soy sauce.

“Your ex-boyfriend kidnapped you and held you hostage before Jax found you… that sounds pretty bad to me.”

I chew slowly, thankful that Jax only gave Sam a bare bones overview of what happened. Despite Sam being my best friend, I intend to keep her in the dark about what happened to me, because the idea of her knowing the full truth causes my skin to feel clammy. The idea of her perception of me changing, of her only seeing me as someone who is made up of horrible experiences, makes me feel sick. She’s already looking at me as if I’m some delicate flower and I want her to see the old me again. And knowing what happened, what really happened, won’t help that at all. So I’ll stick to the curated truth; not lying to her, but not explaining everything.

“You’re right, it was bad, and scary—terrifying at times—but other people have it worse. I’m just lucky Jax found me when he did.” I take a breath. “I started therapy though,” I say, moving the conversation away from what I went through.

“And?”

“And I think it will be helpful… She’s nice, my therapist, and she seems to know what she’s talking about. You were right, it can be pretty cathartic just talking about everything.”

Sam smiles as she starts to tell me stories about her own experience with therapy, and I’m thankful for her doing more of the talking as I grab another piece of sushi with my chopsticks.

Eventually our conversation shifts towards her apartment, and all the plans she has for her space.

“Would you rather put the photos I printed into frames, or tape off my bedroom—”

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