Paint Me Love

Three

Suddenly, I see Brooke everywhere. It's weird how once you know someone, they're easy to recognize. I see her in the halls and the parking lot, like my eyes are somehow drawn to her. She doesn't seem to notice me nearly as often, but whenever she does, she smiles, waves a little, and says, "Hey, Gabe."

And over time, I get excited to see her.

It's strange to me. I've never really had close friends before, and don't have a good relationship with people in general, but for some reason, I really like being around her. We talk more during History, and sometimes in the hall between classes, and I enjoy it.

She's pretty different than me, but at the same time, we're really similar. She likes doodling, too, and even though she's part of the theatre club, she's not nearly as talkative or extroverted as they are. That's a relief. I don't think I could handle those people.

About a week passes. Martin still hasn't found a job. Mom's not getting better, though she isn't getting worse, which is good enough for her. I show her my shapes drawing when I'm finally allowed to visit her again, and she tells me about all of the funny stories she's heard from the nurses. I don't understand how she can stay so positive and funny in such a horrible situation. Every day is a gamble. One day, she might never wake up. That thought makes it hard for me to get up in the morning. I can't lose her. I already had to deal with my dad.

My birth dad ... he never got physical. That's why people had a hard time accepting that me and my mom were hurt. You can't see mental and emotional pain. There's not a scar there. I'd put on a smile at school and pretend I wasn't being emotionally torn apart every day when he'd get home from work. I couldn't tell anyone, because they'd always say something like, "Just ignore him. Words only hurt if you let them." Obviously I was doing something wrong, then, because every word he said ripped me open.

"Are you serious? You think you can get away with this grade? You think I'm gonna let you sit around here when you're thirty because you couldn't get into college? I already know you're stupid. Getting a few good grades might be enough to get your useless brain out of here."

"Get your head out of your sketchbook and help me. If you don't start doing things around the house, I'll make you pay rent. You're talking to your friend? Then why don't you go live with him for a while? I'm sure he'd let you sit around on your lazy ass all day and draw pictures."

"What do you mean you didn't get the job? You think I'm gonna just give you all the money you need? Oh, you're trying, of course. Then try harder, because obviously your best isn't good enough. I'm not surprised, really. If I was the manager, I wouldn't hire you either."

"Hey," Martin says, startling me out of my thoughts. I glance over to let him know I'm listening. "I saw your math grade this morning."

"Great," I mutter, bracing myself for a scolding. No one ever cares about my grades until I'm failing.

"Do you want some help?"

"You probably don't even know what I'm doing."

He laughs a little. "I'm an engineer. I use trig more often than you'd think."

"Yeah, and you also lost your job." The words come out faster than I can stop them. I quickly try to take it back, but it's not that easy. Words can't be taken back. I know that better than anyone. "Martin - I'm - I'm sorry - I didn't - yes, I need -" I stutter out, but it's no use. He's already mad.

"Will you please try to understand that I am under a lot of pressure, too?" he snaps. "I'm trying to help you. I promised Marissa when I married her that I would be the best father I could for you, but you've never given me a chance. If you don't want my help, just tell me. You don't have to be disrespectful."