The Painting

#40 Truce Part 1 - Piosa Cuid 1

Beth and Ivy went upstairs a few songs later leaving Lyle and I to finish the dishes. They left their speakers on – though a bit quieter and Lyle hummed along to a soft ballad.

"How long have you lived with Beth and Ivy?" I ventured as I opened up several cabinets before finding where the dinner plates belonged.

"Ten years."

"How do you know them?"

"They were my neighbors when I lived with my parents."

I thought for a moment. Earlier Lyle mentioned that her parents were no longer alive. "Can I ask what happened to your folks?" I tiptoed up to the question cautiously.

"Not now May." Lyle's even tone that I'd grown so used to signaled a red light and unlike before I urged myself to accept that she didn't have to tell me.

"I don't know if I said this yet but thank you." I polished the metal pan that previously held over a gallon of tomato soup. "I know you said you understand why I left you at the diner, but I know that you don't really understand because I don't think I really understand. I guess that seems to be a common theme."

Lyle raised an eyebrow as I let my thoughts run loosely through my mouth.

"You're welcome." She replied simply.

"And you were right the other night." I continued.

This made Lyle stop and take the towel from my hands to dry her own. "Oh was I?"

"I did feel entitled to know about your life and when you wouldn't tell me it made me upset, but that was hypocritical of me because I held back just as much."

She hummed thoughtfully. "That seems to be an issue for both of us."

"Truce?" I held out my hand to her. "I'll do my best to be more patient."

"Well since that's the longest you've gone without asking me at least three questions I think we've got a deal." She shook my hand and we smiled at each other.

Without explicitly stating it we forgave and at the same time relinquished some of our own borders. Since I left Lyle the night before at the diner in Augusta I'd felt guilty - I couldn't place why. Why should I feel so terrible for leaving someone I'd only just met, and whose motives were funded by using me? Was I that kind – or twisted?

No - it was something far more overtaking. The obvious pushed so far out of my mind that it didn't dawn on my until now. A stone sat in the pit of my stomach, quietly hardening every instance I ignore the thought.

The trust and forgiveness extended from my fingertips to hers and bridged our divided bodies. I cared for her.

The stone, once impermeable and heavy with my solidified guilt cracked. A hair line fracture ran the circumference until the stone split in two. The inside was hallow and as it divided a caught a glimpse of something escaping.

Lost in thought I reached for a bowl in Lyle's outstretched hand. My wet fingers failed to hold onto the smooth sides and the bowl crashed to the floor. Three pieces separated and scattered on the floor.

"Shit." I swore under my breath as I jumped from the counter where I'd been drying dishes.

Lyle met me on the floor as we kneeled, conscious to avoid any sharp shards.

"I'm so sorry." I grabbed up two of the larger pieces.

Lyle nodded in acknowledgement. "They've got plenty more."

I bit on the inside of my lip in apprehension but didn't press the matter. The last piece, the base of the bowl whose bottom was left unpainted so that you could see the miniscule air bubbles poking through the pottery, lay between us.

Just as I reached for it Lyle did the same and our hands met over the base. For a second our eyes met, and although I'd become comfortable with our eye contact, this instance was different. Neither of us were attempting to dissect each other, it was merely a look. An innocent glance in which my pulse quickened and I felt an embarrassed hue rise to my cheeks.

Quickly, I drew back.

At the B&B I was perfectly capable of accepting my feelings –to a point. White Pine was my safe space, where I felt comfortable enough to entertain the idea of a crush. But here, in this foreign home after everything I'd been through the whole notion seemed petty. How could I devote any time to 'crushes' or 'I like you's' while I held my shy hands behind my back.

Then again, maybe the scenery had less impact than I accredited it with. Perhaps admitting my attraction became increasingly difficult because I'd come to know her better – albeit still a small fraction – but enough for my brain to second guess the thump in my chest.

She was a thief – not exactly a criteria I starred on my wish list for a potential partner. Along with that she was secretive and vague – but hadn't that been what drew me to her in the first place?

I thought back to hours before when she held me in the middle of the kitchen, our lips close and bodies closer. A second away from ...

My head spun.

Surely, I was being an idiot for giving the thought air time in my minds eye. I stole a glance at Lyle as we rose from the floor. Was there agitation in her eyes as well? Could she be tackling the same thought?

I mentally hit myself on the forehead. I needed to stop. My mind was looking for something seemingly more docile to attach itself rather than the hurricane of madness that surrounded the last twenty-four hours.

We went back to our two person assembly line and I took in a deep breath.

Now was not the time – especially as my life hung upside down from a thin cord. A pebble of worry settled into my gut where the stone once sat.

"Do you think he is going to come after us?" I don't know why I said 'us' instead of 'me'. Presumably Monroe had no idea of Lyle's involvement, which I was thankful for, but even before we shook hands I knew – or rather felt - that Lyle wasn't leaving my side anytime soon.

"We are safe here." She assured me. Then turning to dry her hands she held her arms out and cradled me in another hug.