Page 20 of North
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked.
“It’s fine. I’m gonna change clothes and work on a new piece. You’re welcome to sit with me if you want to.”
Oh, I want to…
“Okay, sure. I’m gonna change too.” I walked backward until I was out of his room. Only then could I breathe again. I had to get myself together.
Snap the fuck out of it, North. Kane does not want you.
I put on a cute pair of shorts and a stretchy spaghetti strap tank top. If I’m being honest, I just wanted to see if his eyes would trace my body. I was hungry for the feeling his gaze deposited into my veins.
I stood in the mirror and pulled long, thick red strands on top of my head in a messy bun then I stared at myself. A strange feeling of freedom collected behind my breastbone where my heart thumped steady and strong.
God, was I that callous?
Surely feeling relief after your mother dies isn’t normal. I couldn’t identify the other emotions that mingled with the relief. Was it happiness? Peace?
I uttered an apology in my head. To what or who, I didn’t know.
Maybe the apology was meant for Mom. Maybe I was apologizing for feeling relief now that she was gone. I knew nothing would stop me from missing her but evidently, nothing would stop me from being happy she was gone.
Fuck. I’m a horrible person.
Guilt thickened in my throat as I moved down the hall to Kane’s room. I knocked a few times hoping he was done getting out of his clothes.
“Come on in, North.”
I opened the door in time to see him pull a fresh white t-shirt over his perfect stomach. If I had a remote control that worked in real-time I would have rewound that moment over and over. I was so pleased with so little. I cringed when I thought of how I’d be if I got everything.
He rubbed his hands on paint-stained jeans before walking to the closet to grab a few tubes of paint and new brushes. “You applying to Starbucks tomorrow?” He asked tucking the brushes in his pocket.
“Yup. I filled out the application online since they’re the only chain store I can actually apply on the website. I’m going in tomorrow to check the status though. I’ve noticed people in Telluride thrive on face to face interactions.”
Kane nodded then locked his pinky with mine right before he strolled out of the bedroom. I curled my pinky around his tight as I could then followed him into his art studio. It was the only other room on the second level.
Inside, it smelled like fresh paint and canvas. Even though Kane never really smelled like paint, the smell of his art room reminded me of him. It reminded me of when he used to paint all the time before he had to start hiding his art so Mom wouldn’t sell it.
He sat on the stool and began mixing colors, bringing the paint on his palette back to life. I watched him move colors around on the canvas like a magician. I was certain that if I picked up a brush and tried it would look like art time in kindergarten.
“You know where you want to spread Izzy’s ashes?” Kane asked, looking up from his work. His eyes sucked me in and held me captive but I was a willing hostage.
I wrapped my arms around myself and shrugged. I hadn’t given any thought to sprinkling Mom’s ashes. The past couple of weeks had been a blur. I had to snap out of it though because my grades were starting to reflect my mental state.
“I don’t know,” I said, my tone flat and void of emotion. “Can you dump ashes at the trap house or will the meth heads smoke it?”
“North.” Kane rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily.
“What?” I frowned. “You’re supposed to dump the ashes somewhere meaningful to the person right? Well, that’s fitting for Mom.”
Kane was quiet for a while before he spoke. “God, Izzy fucked both of us up so much.” I expected him to fuss at me or say something about how troubled Mom was and that I shouldn’t be so angry.
“She did a number on us,” I agreed.
“Well, we gotta get past this shit, Shortcake. I know a good psychologist in Mountain Village if you’re up for it.”
“I never thought about therapy.” I tucked my feet under myself on the couch. I didn’t think seeing a doctor was within my realm of possibilities. Now that it was presented to me, I didn’t know what to do. “I don’t think I can tell a stranger about Mom.”
“Would you be willing to at least meet with the psychologist? Hey, I will if you will,.”
