Come Down From Your Fences

Chapter 22

The hardware store was quiet; the aisles almost empty. Johnny and Tom were staring blankly at the wall of paint colors. Neither one of them wanted to admit to the other that they had no idea what their next step should be. Johnny had a feeling that Tom knew just about as much about interior decorating as he did - which was absolutely nothing.

Mary had shooed the two of them out of the house as soon as breakfast was finished, claiming she needed some peace and quiet to get some cleaning done. Johnny had no idea what she was talking about. He could probably count on one hand the total number of words he'd spoken in that house since he'd moved in yesterday.

Once Sarah left to go to her own apartment, the trio had run out of things to talk about. It wasn't in Johnny to start a conversation with people he barely knew - hell, he had trouble starting them with people he'd known all his life. Tom and Mary tried to coax information out of him, but all he could come up with were one word answers. He found himself growing more and more embarrassed and frustrated as the day dragged on.

Eventually, he claimed he was tired and spent the rest of the night holed up in the pink palace, reading and trying to sleep. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but he wasn't sure how to act around the Martins.

That awkwardness had not disappeared by the next morning and he was pretty sure Tom and Mary felt it, too. That was probably why Mary had practically pushed him and Tom out the door. Maybe she was hoping for some male bonding, or something.

The silence of the hardware store was broken by an overly enthusiastic, chipper voice that sounded behind them, startling them both.

"You gentlemen look like you could use some help." The salesgirl had a perky personality and a wide smile that made her look like someone from a toothpaste commercial.

"Sure," Tom said, his rough voice a sharp contrast to the girl's singsong approach to speaking.

"Well, what are you looking for today?"

"Paint," Tom answered gruffly. The girl nodded slightly and looked at the pair expectantly, as though she was waiting for more information.

"Okay," she said slowly, smile still firmly in place but it was beginning to look a little forced. "Let's start with color, shall we? What color were you interested in?"

Tom and Johnny exchanged a glance and they both shrugged at the same time.

"Well, kid, it's your room," Tom said, passing the decision off to Johnny who was still staring at the selection of paint chips. He had no idea where to begin. Anything but pink seemed fine to him.

He remained mute and the salesgirl's smile began to droop at the corners and it looked like she was gritting her teeth.

"How about a favorite color, then." She was looking at Johnny now and he felt his face grow hot. This was his first trip out in public since being released from the hospital and he wasn't used to strangers looking at him. Some scars on his neck and arms were visible and, combined with the wheelchair, he felt incredibly self-conscious.

"Do you have a favorite color?" she repeated the question and Johnny realized he hadn't answered her.

"Um ..." he began before realizing he had never really given it any thought before. His first impulse was to say black - that would make a cheerful room, he thought to himself, dismissing it immediately. "Blue, I guess," he said hesitantly.

"Great," she clapped her hands together, like she was cheering on a team to victory. "What shade of blue would you like?"

"Shade?" Johnny and Tom asked together and Johnny swore he heard the salesgirl sigh.