Love and Vandalism

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  “Oh, sure. No problem.” My shift technically doesn’t start for another half hour, but I slip behind the counter while the two of them stride calmly yet purposefully toward the swinging door to the back room.

  The image of them together feels like a collage of contrasts. Kat’s fiery-red hair probably shouldn’t get too close to his flammable-looking comb-over, and her piercings and tattoos clash hard with his pleated kakis.

  Great. Nothing like having my second-in-command acting like she’s some schoolgirl with a mad crush. I’m hit with a pang of loneliness and think of Hayes and what a mismatch he and I were.

  My mind wings back to the two of us making out in my cabin. His arms around me, hands pressing into my back as he eases me down onto my art table. The way his lips felt against mine and how our bodies fit together… Okay, so maybe we weren’t a total mismatch.

  I shove that image underneath the counter and smooth out the sheet I’ve crumpled up. It has a list of supplies divided into sections representing the backpacks we’ll be carrying up. If the three of us each strap a pack on our front and one on our back, it will make for tough climbing, but we should be able to get everything up to the tower with just Scott making one extra trip down and back up.

  With him doing all the heavy lifting and Kat and me spraying like crazy, we might actually pull off this project before the sun fully rises. As long as Kat doesn’t get distracted with trying to paint each section perfectly, and Scott can work as quickly with a spray can as he does with a chainsaw, and if maybe I can manage to move at the speed of light, then the three of us are totally going to nail that water tower.

  No matter what, after this, things will never be the same.

  • • •

  The rest of the week flies by as I focus obsessively on each detail of my roaring mural. I don’t hear from Hayes, and I don’t reach out to him again.

  As much as it sucks, I get that his sobriety is his priority now.

  Still, I can’t help but wonder if, despite my last outburst, he’ll maybe visit me in prison if I get busted.

  My lifeguarding shifts with Scott go by more quickly now that he and I can talk about inspiration and craft and creativity. Not to mention plans for our giant, clandestine collaboration.

  Dad and I still seem afraid to rock our timid string bridge too much. We’ve kept our conversations generic and avoided any heavy subjects that might unravel our progress.

  I realize that Linda has probably been helping him to cope more than I ever could, and when he asks if I’ll come out to dinner with them in two weeks for her birthday, I agree.

  He says, “I told her you’re usually not prone to violence, but she said to tease you that she’s wearing a catcher’s mask to the restaurant just to be safe.”

  I laugh politely and swallow down the lion that’s clawing to leap out and up onto that water tower as soon as possible. It feels like it’s going to rip me apart from the inside if I don’t release the beast soon. I wonder if this is the way my mom felt all the time.

  And then, finally, when I don’t think I can stand to wait another day, it’s time.

  The sun is just beginning to set on a perfect, clear day as Scott and I wait in my car for Kat to arrive. All the supplies are divided neatly into eight backpacks with the lightest two saved for Kat.

  It’s getting late, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe Scott and I should just go ahead and get started. We’d only need to make two trips each.

  “You’re sure she’s coming, right?” Scott’s so nervous he’s making my entire car vibrate, and it’s getting me pretty worked up.

  “She’ll be here. Don’t worry. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  Scott gives me a strained smile. “I’ll be fine. I just want to get going.”

  I send Kat a text asking where she is and she says she just had to pick someone up. I write back: Your invitation did not have a plus one!

  She doesn’t respond, but within moments, her pickup truck is pulling into the twilit clearing where Scott and I are just climbing out of my car.

  Opening her door, Kat calls out, “Please don’t be mad,” before I can see who is with her. Typically, conversations that start with a person begging, “Please don’t be mad,” are not good conversations.

  When Ken steps out though the driver’s side door behind Kat, my first thought is, Awwww, how sweet he was sitting shotgun right beside her.

  My next thought comes out loud, and it goes more like, “What the hell, Kat? You brought our boss. The whole point of keeping the graffiti-painting mission from him was to keep the graffiti-painting mission from him!”

  “I know, I know. And helping you trick him was what finally got the two of us together. But I just couldn’t leave that deception hanging there between us. A relationship can’t be built on lies, Rory.”

  She puts an arm around his shoulders and the two of them look at me imploringly. They’re dressed in head-to-toe black like a pair of matching twin ninjas except one ninja is larger than the other and the big one is wearing bright-red lipstick.

  I’m caught between thinking Kat is adorable for being so open and honest with her new boyfriend and thinking she’s an idiot for being so open and honest with her new boyfriend.

  “Ken, I’m sorry, but it is really important that my dad never finds out about me painting graffiti.”

  Ken holds both of his hands up. “Listen, Rory, I’m totally onboard with this mission. Kat’s had me reading old issues of Adbusters. It got us talking about the buying and selling of ad space as an infringement on our freedoms.”

  Kat says, “He’s the one who mentioned this obnoxious soda ad.”

  Ken laughs. “She was practically bouncing up and down in her seat and couldn’t help sharing your plan with me.”

  “Classic Kat.” I sigh. “Well, it’s too late now.” I open my hatchback and start pulling out the packs. “At least we’ll make it up the ladder in one trip with an extra person carrying supplies.”

  I’m handing backpacks to Scott and Ken when the passenger door to Kat’s truck opens up. In the growing darkness, I hadn’t realized there was someone else still in the car.

  I look at Kat, and she holds up her hands and repeats the phrase, “Please don’t be mad.”

  The pack that I’m holding slips to the ground when I see him.

  Hayes.

  “Hey there, Rory.” Hayes stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and straightens his arms so his shoulders rise up and press together.

  I scramble to pick up the bag I’ve dropped. “What are you doing here?”

  “I stopped by the art store because I needed to talk to you. I could tell right away something was up by the way Kat was acting.”

  Kat says, “Rory, I swear, he was so worried about you, he was a wreck. And then he came right out and asked me about the water tower project.”

  “It wasn’t hard to put together.” Hayes gestures to Kat’s outfit. “The woman is dressed like she’s about to commit a heist.”

  She says, “I had no choice but to admit to Hayes that tonight’s the night. The moment he heard, there was no way he wasn’t coming along. He would’ve gotten a ride here anyway.”

  Hayes has stepped closer, and he reaches to take the bag from my hand. “Aslan is on the move, huh?”

  It’s a saying from the Narnia book about the great lion king, but Hayes being here is all wrong.

  “You can’t be here now,” I say. “I need to paint this lion, and there’s no way you’re talking me out of it.”

  “Believe me, if I thought there was any possibility of convincing you to stop, I’d try,” he says, looking up the long ladder toward the tower above us. “But, right now, you need my help more than any of my extremely rational arguments against this adventure.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Ac
tually, I’m familiar enough with your plan to know that you very much do need my help.” He looks at me.

  “We need his help, Rory,” Kat calls over.

  I ask Hayes, “Why on earth would you put yourself at risk? I thought your selfish program meant you don’t help anyone but yourself.”

  “It turns out, after step nine, there are still three more steps that are much less self-centered.” He laughs. “Roger helped me see I was maybe embracing the selfish thing a little too hard.”

  I don’t even crack a smile.

  He sighs. “I’m supposed to keep an inventory of my wrongs and to promptly admit them. I’m trying to admit my wrongs here. Promptly.”

  “Prompt is one thing, but do you really need to do this right now?” I look over to where Scott is holding the lighter knapsacks up to Kat and Ken.

  “You have to admit, this timing feels like fate, doesn’t it?” When I don’t answer, Hayes goes on, “Cutting you out of my life wasn’t just excruciatingly hard for me, Ro; it was wrong of me too. I should’ve given you another chance.”

  He spreads his hands toward me pleadingly, and I feel the pull of familiarity. Like he belongs here with me. But I don’t know if I can ever trust him again. “Why should I give you another chance?”

  “Because I get why you’re here tonight,” he says. “And I believe in your artistic vision. And because you were right about what you said at the fair. My life needs to be more than hiding from reality and shooting serenity sundaes out my ass.”

  I cover my mouth to hide my small grin at that. Finally, I say, “We could end up in a ton of trouble.”

  “Please give me the chance to prove myself. I won’t abandon you again.”

  I look around at Kat, Ken, and Scott shifting their weight as they listen. When the three of them realize I’m watching, they turn toward each other and immediately start talking all at once. Like they’re having a very intense and obviously make-believe conversation.

  Hayes pulls my face back toward his, so I’m looking directly at him. “I was so focused on avoiding anything that could hurt me that I couldn’t see how much I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  I still feel that zing when our gaze connects. “Um, okay, so congratulations.” I drop eye contact and study his high-tops. “You did that step. Apology accepted. No need to risk your probation.” I pat his arm without looking at him and turn to go.

  “You don’t get it.” He pulls the bag I’m holding from my grip. “I have to make this up to you. It’s part of my recovery to help make things right when I mess up.”

  I just stand there, staring at him in the twilight. In spite of everything, if I’m not willing to give him another chance and risk being hurt again, I’m doing the same exact thing that he did to me.

  Finally, he holds his hands out to the sides. “There’s really no way you can stop me from helping you.”

  Kat says, “You should really let him help, Rory.”

  I look around at my mismatched crew, the guys all shuffling their feet back and forth in anticipation as Kat widens her eyes at me as if to say, Come on, already.

  The energy is so thick it’s almost visible, and I smile at the realization that they’re all anxious to help me make my lion roar.

  I can feel time spinning by too fast, and I finally take control and announce, “Okay, so this is happening, people. Let’s get a move on.”

  While Hayes is still swinging the bag he took from me onto his back, Scott steps forward and thrusts the huge knapsack filled with the folded-up stencil into Hayes’s chest. The force of Scott’s throw drives him backward.

  “Be careful with that,” Scott tells him.

  Hayes repositions his stance and straps the backpack onto his front as two of them stare each other down so hard they may as well bare their teeth. Great.

  At least having another extra person means I won’t even need to stress Kat out by making her carry two packs of supplies like I’d planned. Which is probably best, considering her perfect law-breaking outfit does not extend to her choice of footwear. She’s wearing chunky pink heels.

  I un-bungee the small extension ladder attached to the roof of my car and set it up to reach the rungs that begin above our heads.

  Before I’ve had time to position it properly, Hayes launches up the ladder, wearing the oversize packs on his front and his back.

  Both ladder legs shift under his weight, and I grab the closest side firmly, calling out, “Easy! We are not taking any unnecessary risks here tonight.”

  Hayes doesn’t look back as he climbs up to the blue rungs above.

  Not to be outdone, Scott tightens the straps on his front pack and scurries up after him as soon as I have the ladder better situated.

  And just like that, we’re off to a solid start.

  Standing in the shrinking light, Ken steps up to the rungs and looks at the ladder as if the thing has just started trash-talking his mother. I give Kat a look, asking if he’s going to be okay.

  “He has this little tiny thing about heights.” She reaches out to rub Ken’s back. “He’s terrified of them.”

  “And so you thought you should bring him here on a date and make him climb eight stories straight up?”

  “He’ll be fine. Won’t you, hon?”

  “What?” He shakes his head. “Oh yeah. I can do this.” He sounds like he’s telling this more to himself than to us. “Wait, did you say eight stories?”

  “Well, I’m going to go on ahead of you two,” I say. “If you can’t make it, I’ll send one of the guys back down for your backpacks, okay?”

  I’m doing a quick inventory of the smaller bags the two of them are wearing, suddenly grateful Hayes showed up to pick up the slack.

  He and Scott have already climbed so high they appear small when I look up, so with a “good luck” to Kat, I make my way up the ladder. When I reach the top wooden rung, I shift the bag strapped on my front to one side so I can see where I’m going, grab the first cold, blue rung with both hands, and climb onto the leg of the tower.

  I hear Kat below telling Ken, “Let’s pretend we’re part of the Starship Enterprise crew and our mission is to get to the top of this ladder so we can transmit a warning signal to one of our allies.”

  As I rise out of earshot, I hear Ken laugh and announce, “Must contact the Klingon Alliance.”

  Kat responds with something about “Vulcan Ambassador Sarek,” and I stop trying to listen.

  My arm and leg muscles warm as I make my way higher, and it feels good to be taking real action. This lion is primed and ready to be released into the wild. And I’m ready to be free.

  As I pull myself up the final steps, I find Scott and Hayes facing each other like they’re involved in some meta-retro Wild West standoff.

  Hayes has a strange look on his face that I’m unable to read. What the hell did Scott just tell him?

  But this is no time to be thinking about my messed-up relationship with Hayes. The sun has dipped below the mountains, and the rosy glow of sunset has shifted to blue. As planned, the moon is half-full, so it will be dark enough to cover us but not so dark that we need to use the flashlights I’ve packed.

  “You ready to work, or do you two need to hug out some feelings first?”

  I grab the bag off Scott’s back and drop it at my feet. Sliding off my own backpacks, I unzip them as Hayes lines up his packs beside mine.

  Both boys kneel down and start helping me unload the massive number of spray cans.

  “I’ve got this end,” Hayes tells me, pulling the stencil out of his bag.

  During one of my first planning excursions, I measured the distance between the two ladders running to the top of the tower. The huge stencil has been pieced together and cut to the perfect size.

  “Or I can do it,” says Scott.

  “Thanks, guys.” I look back and forth b
etween them. “Actually, Hayes, I can really use you on the black paint. You remember that thing I taught you in my cabin about angling from below?”

  “Yeah. I remember a lot about your cabin.” Hayes is looking up at the obnoxious Sparkle Soda ad, so I can’t see his expression, but I don’t need to.

  I’m trying to focus on the work we’re facing, but my feelings for Hayes and history with him are wrestling for space inside my head.

  I feel panicky for a moment over my loss of control. Mom never would’ve done a collaborative project like this one. She believed true artists worked alone. Maybe she was right.

  I kneel down and finish unloading the final pack as I try to focus on the job ahead. I just need to block out everything around me.

  Just then, Ken and Kat get within earshot.

  “Holy hell, this is high up.” Ken’s voice is tight.

  Kat answers, “Just don’t look down. Keep thinking about how awesome the two of us will look at Nerd Con next month. Picture me in my metal Princess Leia bikini.”

  “Our Stars have aligned,” Ken says. “Your Wars and my Trek.”

  “Did I tell you how perfect you are?” Even from this far away, I hear the dreaminess in Kat’s voice.

  They arrive, climbing through the opening in the metal catwalk to join us.

  Ken is gripping the railing so tightly I imagine the metal will be imprinted with his finger marks when he finally lets go. If he ever lets go.

  He’s doing this for Kat, who is doing this for me, and their adorable nerd banter is making this memory better. It’s making the whole thing better. I realize I’m glad I’m not alone.

  Scott and I unfold the stencil and climb our way up the two side ladders as Hayes helps Kat and Ken unload their bags.

  I tape my side of the stencil to the face of the water tower with thick packing tape and quickly make my way back down the ladder to where the rest of the group stands watching.

  “A little higher, Scott,” I call up to him.

  He gives his corner a tug and the open area of the stencil moves into perfect position over the Sparkle model’s cheesy, dimpled smile.