Love the Boys

Chapter Seven

Have you ever felt like you woke up as someone else? That you went to sleep one night and woke up the next day, very much alive, and yet everything around was a little different?

Maybe it had only been Simon's chat about his scientific interests that had put these thoughts in my head, or maybe that was just another busy thought in my anxious mind, but that was how I was starting to feel. The morning of the hit and run, I had become a different person. I wasn't really sure how, but something about my life had changed. I felt that there was something important that I had forgotten. Maybe I'd simply lost it somewhere in my head. Was my life really as simple as I thought?

Maybe I, myself, had stepped into a parallel universe. But what was I thinking? I wasn't near educated enough to tackle that. Once I was back in school, maybe I'd take a class.

It was Tuesday, my day off. I spent most of the morning cleaning up, touching my belongings to familiarize myself with them. I examined the rings of dust under objects when I moved them, just before I wiped them away. In the back of my mind, I was also trying to make sure that nothing was actually different. I must have been going crazy.

Once I was finished with that, I did what I had promised myself: I dug into my closet and pulled out my painting supplies. I hadn't done any painting since I moved, too focused on work and simply settling myself, but I needed some time to unwind now — to stop thinking and just create.

I was always very poetic when I painted. All the sweeping lines in different colors like the clouds on the horizon helped me to feel that I could fly. I could lose myself in the landscape I created before me and visit a place unknown. The strokes came together to form a picture and then I would step back to observe what I'd done, even without thinking.

I painted my dreams.

I let the music and the images in my mind drive me. The action itself was therapeutic enough. I didn't need company or anything else in the world, and even though most of my work would never see the light of day, this was what kept me sane. I unleashed the images in my mind and didn't have to think about the stress of daily life.

I let the brush drive for a while, losing myself in the strokes, until a different sound interrupted my flow. My phone was ringing. I pulled it up on the screen and saw a familiar number — but one I hadn't yet put into my contacts. I answered with a smile.

"Hey, Simon." His name rolled off my tongue so easily now.

"Hey, Rosaleigh." I could tell that there was a smile in his voice as well.

"What are you up to?" I asked, thinking it was just a good way to start.

"I went to the diner this morning but you weren't there. One of your coworkers told me it was your day off."

"Yeah, I'm just at home cleaning up a bit." Glancing at my painting, I didn't need him to ask to see it, so I wouldn't even tell him that I had been painting at all.

"So, no plans?" he asked.

"Not at the moment. What do you have in mind?"

"I just got out of class and I thought you might like to hang out."

"Sure, I'd like that," I said, hoping I didn't sound too eager. "What should we do?"

"Not sure yet. Why don't you come by my place and we'll decide."

I froze. My mouth was moving but nothing was coming out, and I don't think he even noticed.

"I'll send the address to your phone," he said. "See you soon."

I looked at my phone screen to see that the call had ended, that blooming rose still lurking on my screen. He'd asked me to his place. Was I ready for that? Was it such a big deal that I was going there? Why did it have to mean anything? He was just a person. He had an apartment like I did. And just because I was meeting him there, didn't even mean I had to go in.