Lacrosse

26- Paint and Acquaint

Josh

I stand in the stone driveway in front of my house and watch as Destiny pulls out, taking Kendall with her. I knew that Kendall wasn't going to be staying with me forever. It was just a temporary thing until her parents got home. I knew she was going to leave, but I didn't think it was going to be like this. I didn't think that it was going to be because of something I did. Some stupid, stupid thing I did out of anger and the crave for revenge.

And so I just stand there, not wanting it to be true. I want to open my eyes and find myself still in bed, Kendall lying next to me, fast asleep. I don't want to be standing in my bare feet outside my house. I don't want to feel the wind whipping in and out of my shirt. I don't want to go back inside and find that this is all happening. I don't want to go back to my room to find her not there.

Stupid. I was so stupid. And she may never forgive me. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't.

After standing for a good five minutes after the red truck is out of my view, I finally accept the fact that this is reality. This is not a dream. This is not a nightmare. This is life. True life.

I walk in the front doors of my house to find my mom sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping bitter smelling coffee out of a red mug. She has a newspaper spread out in front of her and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing over to me that she has been there for a while, that she knows already and is waiting to get the opportunity to bring it up.

"How long have you been out here?" I ask, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out the carton of orange juice. I take a glass out of the cupboard and and fill it to the brim with the pulpy orange liquid.

"A half hour or so," she answers simply, gulping down some more of the coffee loudly.

"Were you here when..."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"You're many things mother," I sigh, "but a liar isn't one of them. Don't make me add that to the list."

"Fine, I'm not sorry. I'm actually quite glad. I think you can do much better than her," she corrects herself, knowing that her lie was as transparent as the glass I'm drinking out of.

"There's no one better than Kendall."

"You can find a girl who won't get you into trouble. Look at yourself, you're all cut up and bruised from a fight about her and don't even try to deny that it was about her because Coach Scott already called me to tell me."

I finish my glass and walk up the stairs to my room, not bothering to argue with the woman any longer. She has her mind made up and nothing will change it, so why waste my energy trying.

I pull on a pair of old black gym shorts and a plain white undershirt style t-shirt. I brush my teeth and hair, inspecting the injuries to my face as I do so. It's nothing too bad. Just a cut up lip, slightly black eye, and bruised cheek. It'll heal in the matter of a few days.

*

"I'm going out," I tell my mom as I slip on a pair of sneakers and grab my car keys from the kitchen bowl.

"Where are you going?" she questions, tucking a piece of blondish hair behind her ear.

"Out. I'll be back in a few hours."

I walk out the front doors and step inside my car, turning the key in the ignition and starting on my way.

I arrive at the local Home Depot a few minutes later, wandering around the massive warehouse until I find myself in the outdoor paint section. I skim my eyes over various shades of whites and off-whites before finally selecting a color described on the carton as "rice." It looks like about the right color as what I need. I pick up a pack of two rolling brushes and four cartons of the paint, paying and starting on my way to Kendall's neighborhood within the next few minutes.

*

When I get to Kendall's small trailer home, I see that it is still marred by the graffiti left by who I assume to be Michael Corbin. The bright red letters burn holes in my brain, fueling my anger at the boy that was once my friend. We used to play together. We would go home with each other after games and share hotel rooms during tournaments. We ate pizza and played video games, chugged sodas and had burping contests. What happened to that Michael? It wasn't too long ago that the fun-loving buddy of mine existed. Now he's a monster.

I set the cartons of paint on the ground and dip one of the rollers into the paint. I lift the brush to the wall and begin to cover the vandalism with a fresh layer of "rice." My estimate was correct. The color matches almost exactly that of the original paint, blending in easily.

I continue painting, covering every square inch of the damaged surface, until there is none left. There is no sign of the cruel words that have called the trailer their home since late Thursday night or early Friday morning. Her parents will never know they ever existed in the first place.

I promised her that I'd think of something to fix her house, and I did. I kept my word to her, like I always do. Maybe when she comes home and sees it, she'll remember that and forget about the kiss.

*

I arrive home exactly three hours after I left, covered in almost white paint and sweat. When I walk into the large house I've lived in all my life, the air conditioning hits me and it feels so good.

"Josh, why are you covered in paint?" my mom asks from the kitchen. She is still sitting in the same spot she was before and I wonder to myself if she ever even moved. Only this time, she's not alone.

"I was painting a house," I answer, careful to hide whose house it was. I don't think my mom wants to hear Kendall's name right now and I'm not sure if I'd be able to say it without breaking down.

My mother gives me a curt nod and motions to the girl sitting across from her at the counter. "This is Kimmy. She's a Junior at Pittsburgh Hills and is the daughter of a good friend of mine from work."

"Nice to meet you Kimmy," I say monotonously, not really sure why she is here. I go to the fridge and pull out a bottle of water, chugging it down and savoring the iciness as it travels down my throat.

"Kimmy plays lacrosse too," my mom adds, looking at me with hope in her eyes. I finish my water and grab another one, drinking this one quickly.

"Good for Kimmy?" I ask, unsure as to what my mother is getting at.

"Excuse Josh. He just broke up with his girlfriend and is sort of sour about it," my mom tells the girl.

"We did not break up!" I hiss, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. This is a new low for my mom. Is she trying to set me up with her coworker's daughter? I've been with Kendall for more than two and a half years, and my mom thinks that our relationship is so fragile that a little fight will wreck it?

Well, maybe it is. But we don't know that for sure, and how dare my mom try to get me to move on this quickly. It's been all of three and a half hours since Kendall left, and she's already spreading news about a break up and finding me new girls? She must've had this planned for a while now.

"I was hoping that you and Kimmy could maybe go get some ice cream or go to the movies for a little while," she suggests.

For the first time since I walked in, I actually look at Kimmy. Sure, I saw her before, but now I'm actually seeing her. I look at her curly dirty blond hair and and lightly tanned skin. I see her brown eyes and freckles. She's tall, probably just an inch or two shorter than me. Her legs almost touch the ground from her perch on the bar stool. She's too skinny and the idea of taking her to get ice cream so she gets some fat on her bones crosses my mind before I think better of it.

I know this girl. Not actually her, but girls like her. She's rich and beautiful, and she knows it. She thinks she's better than everyone else and doesn't hesitate to tell people that. She's a classic Pittsburgh Hills girl, and I don't like that.

"Nice to meet your acquaintance Kimmy, but I'm in a relationship."