I begin to fidget with the skin around my thumbnail, my addictive habit I’m sure will stick with me forever. “I’m sorry.” I quietly announce, unwilling to break eye contact. She deserves my respect, more than anyone.
“I know that too.”
My palms rise up to cover my face, the shame breaking through the sadness. “God Abby, I’m so sorry.” I hold back a cry, the skin around my eyes too raw to handle the pain from the salt.
She nudges my shoulder to gain my attention, and once my hand drops, motions at the plastic bag she had brought in. “I’m not going to lie, I’m more of a chocolate girl. But since you’re so sad, I’ll still let you pick first.”
An almost hysterical giggle spills out of me as I watch her with bewilderment. “How are you so nice?”
“The world hasn’t hardened me yet.” She reaches forward, bringing both tubs to the front of us and allowing the plastic bag to fall off the edge of the bed. “If I’m lucky, maybe it never will.”
Play once in a while by GRAHAM, Henrik
“Abby!” Mom calls from the top of the ladder. Her paintbrush slowly drips yellow paint that splashes against the plastic cover below her. “Can you get more paint on this?”
I smile down at my own paintbrush, admiring the yellow strokes I’ve left along the front of the trailer. Dad will be home in two days, and as an extravagant final touch, Mom decided we needed a fresh coat of paint. The excitement for his return has been through the roof, everyone getting involved to make sure his reunion goes perfectly. Abby has been over almost everyday, she has helped us through the garage sale and now with this project. Even her mom had stopped by a few times, always bringing loads of snacks and fresh drinks for the three of us.
The garage sale had been a surprising hit, leaving us with plenty of money to fund the face lift of the trailer. Mom spent hours digging through paint swatches to find the perfect one. Slowly losing her resolve as Abby and I kept teasing her about being too picky. We had ended the night in a fit of laughter.That’s when mom held up the yellow paper. “This is what your happiness looks like, Nova.” She had beamed at me. “This is the one.”
The constant chaos has been my only escape from Saint. It’s been weeks of silence, and when I’m alone I still crave him. I can’t let it go. I’ve done nothing but try, yet he has embedded himself so deeply into me the idea of forgetting about him is like trying to breathe without lungs.
“Wait!” Abby squeals. Mom and I both turn to her, but she keeps her gaze locked on Mom as she smiles brightly. “He’s here!” She practically jumps for Joy as she rushes over to help Mom get down the ladder.
“Who?” I ask, setting my brush down on the ledge of the home. Slowly rising to my feet I dust some of the gravel that had gripped onto my jeans. The little pebbles bounce off the ground, scattering around me.
I turn just in time to recognize the blue hair walking down the road towards us. My lip trembles as he steps closer, his facial features coming into focus. “Jackson?” I squeak out.
He walks up to me, taking me in his arms. The comfort of his friendly embrace brings tears to my eyes. I nuzzle into him, smelling the familiar scent of his cigarettes and mint gum. “Why are you here?” I inquire, the sounds leave my throat, coming out choppy as the tears bubble over.
“Abby said you could use a friend.”
I twist my head until my chin is able to rest on his chest, looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” It’s a pathetic apology but it’s all I can muster without completely falling apart. He had been a walking ray of sunshine, and I came in like a black hole, stealing the light from him. I had robbed him of the essence that makes himhim.
His hand strokes the back of my head as he looks down at me. “It wasn’t you who hurt me, Nova. You don’t need to carry that baggage.”
“I was at fault just as much as he was,” I respond, still feeling the need to protect Saint.
Jackson shakes his head, releasing me from the hug. Abby walks up to us, giving Jackson a quick squeeze before joining in on the conversation. Together we form a triangle, all taking a step back so everyone is equally included.
“If you weren’t mad at me, why wouldn’t you answer me?” I question further, attempting to prove my point. The insinuation against Saint feels too personal.
Jackson awkwardly stretches out his arms, as if his nerves were physical objects, something he could shake from his skin. “Okay, so maybe it was a little bit your fault.” He responds, giving me a clumsy smile. “But!” He exclaims as he points up a finger, “it’s still mostly his. Which is why I’m here.”
A mix of a giggle and a hiccup from the tears sneak from my mouth, combining so horrendously that the other two laugh. Their friendship leaves me feeling so unworthy, but together they have made it clear that I need to accept the gift. They’re here, and all I can do is try to be better.
“Have you spoken to him?” I finally find the courage to ask as we walk towards Mom. Jackson just shakes his head, leaving his response non-verbal.
“About time!” Mom calls to us, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Paint smears along her skin, and I can’t help but smirk at the silliness of her looks. There’s more yellow paint on her than the house at this point. “Grab a brush Jackson! We don’t have all day!”
Abigail’s laugh flows around us, “I mean we kind of do.”
Mom jokingly points the paintbrush in a scolding manner towards her, “don’t sass me, I’m not paying you for nothing.”
That leaves Abby doubled over in a fit of laughter. “Yes Ma’am!”
I watch the two of them head towards the front door, refilling their empty coffee jars with more paint from the bucket. I haven’t been grateful for much in this life, but Abby sure is one of them. I can only imagine how stable she kept Mom while I was gone. She helped keep my favorite person bright, and nothing I could ever do will be enough to repay her.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure none of us deserve Abby.” Jackson quietly speaks up as we both watch the two girls begin painting again. As if he can read my mind, he gently swings an arm over my shoulder. “We just have to appreciate her while we can.”
