“Does that have anything to do with you and Brynn calling it quits?” He reaches into the plastic bag on his lap as he talks and pulls out his new bait. Turning it over, he examines it through the clear packaging. I’m glad he’s not staring me down right now, demanding answers with that look he gets when he’s determined.
“Sort of, but not really. Des showed up at my place and tried to insert herself back into my life. Some shit about how she misses me, yada yada. I told her to beat it. Then Brynn drove up with Julia.”
Brynn’s expression on that day pops into my head. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t threatened. Realization was dawning on her as she sat in Julia’s passenger seat.
“Brynn ended things because she has other plans, Anthony. Plans I don’t have any hope of interrupting.” And, maybe, I don’t want to. That’s why I went to Sports House today. That’s why I went to the hardware store when I left her place yesterday. If Brynn needs to leave to feel safe, how can I get in the way of that? I won’t. Instead, I’ll make her feel as secure as I possibly can.
“It doesn’t make any sense to me, man. Either she wants to be with you, or she doesn’t. End of story.”
“It’s not always black and white,” I say, staring out at the dark road ahead of us. “Some stories have a lot of colors.” It makes me think of the Eye of the Storm painting. I still don’t know where to send it. The email said the buyer would contact me with an address.
“Whatever this story is, it must be a fucking rainbow, Connor.”
The thought doesn’t cheer me up. Rainbows aren’t real. They’re what happens when the sun shines through particles in Earth’s atmosphere.
Brynn isn’t the sun. She’s a violent storm, an angry body of water, a churning sea spewing fear, shame, and regret. Emotions strong enough to sink an average human being, a painter masquerading as a handyman, a guy who fears he has the passion but lacks the talent. She’s strong enough to sink a freighter.
Brynn is a category five gale, and I’m fucking drowning in her.
21
Brynn
Julia has toomany good qualities to count. She’s caring and compassionate, funny and adventurous, and good at reading people too. Especially me. Today I’m not counting that on her good qualities list. Today I want to be overlooked. I’m tired, cranky, and seeing things that don’t exist. Or might not exist. But they could exist.
When I thought Eric Prince was sending me threatening letters, I could handle that. He had an excuse, and at least Iknewwho it was, or who I thought it was, anyway, but a female? I never saw that coming. The other letters were written in all caps. I assumed it was him, because who else would write those words? There was a weird comfort in knowing who was doing it, and now that’s gone. Before, I looked harder at every man who crossed my path, making certain I was safe from Eric Prince. Now I have to look harder at everyone.
Not Julia. This is the third time she has hugged me since I arrived this morning to help her with last minute parade details. I haven’t told her it’s my birthday. Walt drove me here, and I didn’t tell him either. Julia is hugging me because she senses my feelings.
She pulls back from the hug and doesn’t say anything about it. Just goes right on talking with her little clipboard and the checklist I made for her. We’re both wearing the T-shirts I told her to make. I distributed them to shop owners around town, and talked Mary and Cassidy into wearing them for their shifts. The owner of the cafe let all the waitresses wear them, and they said everyone who came in was asking about the parade. Julia was ecstatic when she heard that.
She’s reading off the to-do items on the list when a guy with a camera around his neck taps her on the shoulder.
“Hi, are you Julia?” With a thumb, he points behind himself to a group of people standing off to the side. “They said you’re in charge.”
Julia pushes back her shoulders and pulls the clipboard into her chest. “I’m Julia. Can I help you with something?”
The guy extends a hand. “I’m Craig. I work for the Arizona Times. They sent me up here to cover your parade.”
Julia’s eyes widen. Her fingers grip the sides of her clipboard as she struggles to maintain her cool. “The Arizona Times?”
Craig grabs the yellow lanyard from around his neck and holds it out. Dangling from the end is a laminated card with his picture and the name of the newspaper written in large letters. “There’s a section for events around the state. Brighton is making the news with their first annual Fourth of July parade.” He grins and shrugs. “I need some pictures if you wouldn’t mind. Maybe one of you next to a float?”
“Sure,” Julia says, but she stays in place.
Grabbing her arm, I lead her to the Tonolep Farms float. It’s decked out with bales of hay, red and white gingham fabric bunched between the bales, and a cow statue. “Stand in front of this one. People recognize this brand. They sell their milk in all the grocery stores in Phoenix.” I position her so the cow is behind her head. “Act natural. Loosen your grip on the clipboard. Maybe hold it with one hand and put the other one on your hip.” She listens. I back up and let Craig work.
After he has taken a few pictures, Julia motions me over. “You helped plan it too. Without you, the Arizona Times probably wouldn’t have heard about it.”
Craig swings my direction, his camera still in front of his face. I lift my hands. “No no no. This is your project.” Not to mention I don’t need to give my location away.
Craig lowers the camera. His eyes scrunch, his head tilts. “I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
I laugh, but the sound is too loud and forced. “I get that a lot,” I say, trying to rein in the alarm slamming through me. “I have one of those faces.”
Craig appraises me for one more second before he gives up and turns back to Julia. He asks her to lead him through some of the other floats and introduce him to other people he can interview.
They walk away, and all the frightened air leaves my body. There is nothing for me to slump against, so I settle for letting my shoulders fall and dipping my head.
