Page 19 of Infinite as They Come
He spun me around and pulled me right into his lap. “What are wemaking?” he asked lowly as he picked up a brush, holding it out for me.
I gave him a little look over my shoulder before sliding his palette in front of me. It was covered in a splash of colors from his previous works. I liked that. That every story he had ever made came from it. My eyes travelled along the brightly stained wood. All the blues and greens along the top and the yellows and oranges along the side and the whole heap of brown hues that sat there in the center more than any other color. I squirted some paint out. Random ones. The first ones my hands could find.
“You know I can’t make anything good,” I said, flipping open the canvas pad to a fresh sheet.
“Distract me with some stick figures.”
I took the brush from his hands, watching as he picked one up too. He dipped his brush into some brown paint while he pressed his other hand firmly to my stomach, pulling me tighter to him, his chest right to my back. His head was on my shoulder as he started making a few lines against the canvas sheet, his fingers gripping the brush tight. Too tight. I could tell. I knew how he painted. Loose, comfortable, relaxed. With my free hand, I used my fingers to trace patterns against his hand on my stomach as I joined him, dipping my brush into some blue paint.
“Guess I’ll make the sky or something,” I said, dabbing the brush along the left side of the canvas. “I can’t mess up the sky, right? I bet I will. Watch me do it.”
“Just say it’s abstract or something.”
I forced out a laugh, but it was too dull sounding. The kind you made when you were just trying to force it out because your heart wasn’t quite up for feeling anything good or warm. It was silent for a little while as I patted my brush along the canvas as if I knew what I was doing.
“I feel like an asshole being angry at her,” he finally said. “I mean, I’m not even angry at her, I’m angry that… Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“But… it’sher,” he said softly. And then he said the next part even quieter. “It’s my mom.”
“Whatever you’re feeling is right,” I said as I made it to the center of the canvas, trying to mimic some of the techniques Sawyer had taught me over the years even though my brain had never been able to absorb any of that information. Dabbing, little streaks—splotches, really. None of it was as good as what he could do. “Anger and confusion and worry and everything else. I’m sorry she hurt you. I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry about all of it.”
He let out a sharp breath behind me, his lips pressing into my shoulder, giving me a kiss there that I could feel thanks to the thin straps of my dress. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What the hell do we even say to each other after not speaking for so long? I mean, does she even wanna speak to me? She kept hanging up…”
“I guess she’s not totally ready to talk to you either.”
“I know why she left. I know things were bad. Worse than bad. I know how much my dad hurt her. Isawit. But… God, she left me with him, and he didn’t exactly go easy on me.”
My eyes closed at that, my hand gripping his tighter as my painting came to a halt. I could hear Sawyer still going, though. The gentle scrape of the brush along canvas hit my ears, and when I opened up my eyes, I saw that he had painted a little house.
“I’m sorry he hurt you, Sawyer,” I said. “You deserved so much better than that. All of that pain you’re feeling? You’re allowed to feel it. I just wish I could take it all away from you. If I could, I’d do it in a second flat. I hate it so much. That you had to deal with all of that. It’s not fair. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want.”
“Being angry is exhausting, though,” he mumbled.
“You’ve had to survive so much,” I said, still trailing my fingers against his hand on me. “You’re the strongest person I know and I wish I could be like you. Resilient and brave. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”
“It doesn’t feel right being mad at her. I’m not even mad. I’m just… confused, I guess. Like I can’t figure out my next move. And I need it to be the right one.”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Sawyer.”
“Can you try, though? ‘Cause I really don’t know what thehell I’m supposed to do right now.”
I breathed out shakily. There was no one simple answer I could give him. No clear cut, one word response that was going to make it easier. “Your mom…” I said, my fingers still tracing along his hand. “I know what she did hurt you. And you’re entitled to that pain. It’s real and you don’t ever have to forget it, but… It’s just… That position she was in? It was probably so scary for her. I guess it’s not so black and white, right? She must care if she’s trying to reach out. It’s a big step—for the both of you. She’s trying. And I guess the situation is complicated. More complicated than I could ever understand. Maybe she felt like she was caught between a rock and a hard place, and she had to make a decision she wasn’t ready to make, and maybe it’s one she regrets…”
“I don’t… I don’t hold it against her,” he said. “I swear I don’t. I get it. She was scared. She didn’t know what to do. But… God, I was scared too, and just… I don’t know what I’m meant to do now.”
“You’re so strong. I could never be as strong as you. I don’t know how you do it.”
My eyes closed for a moment when I felt him bury his face in the crook of my neck, his lips pressing to my skin, tickling me that little bit. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to open my eyes. I just wanted to stay there with him, feeling him, having him hold me so close. We could stay there in that motel room forever and that would be okay with me. He nuzzled into my neck for a second and gave me the softest of kisses before he went back to work. I could hear him, could hear his brush dancing along the canvas.
When I finally opened my eyes back up, I focused on the canvas again. The house was almost done now and I wasn’t sure how he managed to pull all the lines together to make it look so real, so pretty, so perfect. And there was my giant, clumsy strip of blue right across the top.
I picked up a clean brush, swirling it around so I could scoop up a little bit of yellow. Just under all that mess of blue, I traced a circle. “Maybe she wants to apologize. Or see how you are. I’m sure she’s been thinking about you this whole time, just like you’ve been thinking about her…”
He stayed quiet behind me as I filled in the circle and then made aborder of little lines around it, creating a sloppy version of the sun that looked nothing like Sawyer would ever make.
“There,” I said, turning around a little in his lap and moving an arm around his shoulder. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his cheek, kissing at him there slowly. “Because you make everything so warm and bright, and I’m so lucky that I have the sweetest boyfriend ever. Someone who brightens up all my days and makes them so good. Someone who looks after me so well and protects me and makes sure I feel so loved every single day. I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and you’re the strongest person I know, Sawyer. Whatever move you make next, I’ll be there with you. I promise.”
