Page 78 of Zimyra

The number of times I’ve used the wordfinethis week is sickening. It’s an easy answer – enough to get people off my back about this ordeal without having to go into any detail. The bruise on my face is barely noticeable. With the makeup I put on, you can’t see it at all.

Mr. Alton glances at his watch and says, “Okay. Well, in that case, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Come ready to paint, sip and eat!”

“Oh, I will. I skipped lunch for this.”

“Then you’re good and ready. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I return to setting up the tables. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do groups of tables or two long tables, but when I got here, I decided on the longer tables to give off more of a family vibe. That way, we can all converse as a big group rather than a room full of small groups.

Once the chairs are set up, I go to my car to get the party trays. I ordered subs, potato salad, chips, pickles, and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I set the food on the counter and return to my car for the drinks and ice. Since I’m very much a décor person, I have to make sure everything is arranged neatly. I ordered some paper plates that matched the color scheme – blue and gold. My serving spoons are all blue. The centerpieces on the tables are blue, gold, and white. I made cute, little party bags that included small bottles of hand sanitizer, candy, gum, a pen, and a notebook. They’re small things, but I’ve learned they’re huge gestures for my tenants.

Next, I set up the easels. Per a suggestion by Ms. Campos, we’re painting a sunrise near a mountain range. I found the picture online and ordered thirty of them. Each comes with its own paint and brush. On the tables, I have water cups for paint changes, paper plates for color blending, and paper towels for messes.

I play some jazz on my phone and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker in the room.

Now, it’s a party!

My guests begin arriving a quarter to six. I speak to them all as they enter. Ms. Campos comes right over to me while people are picking their spots at the table. She says, “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried about you when I saw the office was closed Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.”

“Thank you, Ms. Campos, but I’m fine.”

There I go again…

“Is it true that we’re getting security out here now?”

I’m surprised to hear her ask that question since corporate brought it to my attention in the form of an email a few days ago. How would she know that?

I say, “Maybe, just as a precaution. Who did you hear that from?”

“I heard the maintenance men talking about it this morning when I was leaving for the grocery store. The real tall one told the short one that. They were speaking in Spanish. I didn’t know he knew Spanish. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, I did,” I answer, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how Axel would’ve known anything about the company’s plans to hire security.

I tell Ms. Campos, “Don’t worry. There’s no threat to the neighborhood. Situations like this just prove that crime can happen anywhere and we always need to be vigilant.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Okay. Go ahead and pick your seat before it gets too full in here.”

“Yeah, I better.”

She scurries on and chooses a seat near the center of the first table.

The night commences. I love these little get-togethers with the tenants. Everyone is painting, happy, discussing their day, sipping drinks, and eating. The sense of community I get from being with them helps me forget about my troubles. I’m completely satisfied with how it all came together.

I walk over to the food to get a sandwich. I haven’t done much eating in the last few days either. That’s probably why I’m a little dizzy.

I take a bite, then eat some chips. Opening a bottle of water, I drink, and drink, and drink some more. I place the bottle on the table and take another bite of my sandwich. That’s when I see Axel walk into the room. My entire body stills, forcing me to breathe deeply. Unhurriedly. Involuntarily, but with purpose. My body constantly defies me whenever he’s around.

Axel has on a black fitted cap, a black Polo, and dark blue jeans. Him in black is a mesmerizing sight. They boost his eyes, making them the focal point of his handsome face. Somehow, I think he knows that already.

I chew slowly while observing him. He looks around – looking for me I presume. The moment he realizes where I am, he walks in my direction. I pretend I don’t see him approaching and take another bite of this sandwich, which is really freakin’ good, by the way. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten in three days.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” I answer, disguising my angst that he’s here. I want to ask him why he’s here, but I know the answer to that already. Like Zander, he wants to make sure I’m okay.

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