by Jill Sanders
The pills had finally kicked in around six that night, so the rest of the evening had been a blur. It’s not that the medicine dulled him, but he always felt less aware of everything when he took them.
Working and living in a small town, he wanted to keep some things private. Knowing this couldn’t happen in a small town, he’d been tagged as being somewhat of a loner.
Actually, at seventeen he’d been viewed quite differently. It had been one of the highest points in his life. He had several girls in town that he was seeing and he was working at the restaurant with spare money in his pocket. Then there had been his 1962 Dodge Dart that was sitting in the garage that he was turning into a sweet cherry of a ride. He’d made plans to go to California after school to attend one of the highest-rated culinary schools. Things had definitely been looking up for his future.
The weekend of his eighteenth birthday had arrived and his father had pulled him aside after dinner one night. A birthday sail with his old man had been the last thing he’d wanted to do. Iian had actually made other plans with Stacie Roberts, a high school cheerleader, who had been trying for years to get his attention. Well, he figured it was about time he gave it to her.
But his dad had been stubborn, so he’d called off his plans and instead spent it on a small sailboat with his old man.
He woke up a week later in the hospital with several broken ribs, cuts all over his body, and a nasty bump on his head. The worst part was the loss of his father, and the knowledge that he would never hear again.
He had little to no memory of what had taken place in the water. The last thing he did remember was leaving the dock. His dad had smiled over at him as he stood at the helm of the tiny vessel. That memory was frozen in his mind, much like a snap shot, which kept coming back to him at the oddest times.
It had taken him almost three years to get back onto a boat, and even then he’d only gone as far as five miles off shore. It irritated him that he still had problems sailing. He’d been raised on the water, he loved the ocean. Now his hands would get sweaty, his breath would come in harsh gasps, and his mind would fog up. Funny, he felt the same way when he saw Allison.
The doctors called it post-traumatic stress syndrome. He called it, and himself, just plain stupid. He hated that he could lose control of his own body so easily.
After being raised on the water the first part of his life, he sometimes missed the feel of the open ocean. He’d finally gotten himself to the point where he could control the shaking for short periods of time. But he still couldn’t control himself when he saw Allison.
Now he didn’t feel comfortable speaking in front of most people, just his family. A family which it seemed was getting larger every day. Todd and Megan had their two children, Matthew and Sara. And then his sister Lacey and Aaron’s baby was due in a few months.
He realized he was the only one without someone to go home to… yet.
At a quarter to one in the morning, Iian walked into his empty house after leaving work. The place was dark except for the hall light upstairs, which had always been left on since he was a small child who had been afraid of the dark. As a grown man, he had left it on out of habit.
He loved the house he grew up in, but now, as the only inhabitant, he found it lonely and way too large for one person. His brother’s and sister’s rooms had sat pretty much untouched since they’d moved out. His father’s room sat behind closed, large double doors, untouched since his death over ten years ago.
Iian’s small room was still decorated from his youth. Basketball paraphernalia lined every wall. A large poster of Michael Jordan hung over his bed. For the most part, when he had company over, especially women, he made a point to not let them stay the night. In fact, he’d never had an overnight guest.
It wasn’t that he was cold or heartless, he just liked his space. Losing his hearing had pretty much taken the choice of intimacy from him, or so he thought. Most people in town didn’t know sign language, and most girls he dated didn’t care if they had a deep and meaningful conversation. Up to this point, he’d been okay with that.
As far back as he could remember, he had only really thought of one person in that way.
Shutting the front door behind him, he flipped the lock and switched on the stair lights. Looking around the empty entry way, he guessed it was about time he started thinking about fixing up the place. It had been his solely for almost two years. The three siblings owned the large house together, but everyone knew it was his.
The downstairs had been redecorated a few years back, thanks to his sister. The newer appliances still shined in the remodeled gourmet kitchen. The huge fifty-two inch flat-panel television hung on the den wall with large brown leather couches and chairs positioned around for the best view. The coffee tables and end tables gleamed with newness.
Lacey had overseen replacing the old carpet with dark hardwood flooring downstairs right before Iian had graduated high school. His father’s office, which had been used by Todd when he had lived there, now housed his own laptop, papers, and books.
The back room, which had been an old sewing room his mother had used before his birth, was now a home gym. His weights and treadmill sat facing a wall of mirrors. Todd still came over some days and used them.
Taking the steps two at a time, he stopped at the end of the long hallway and swore he could see his father standing in front of the large double doors again.
He shook his head and blinked several times and looked again at the empty doorway. The dark wood of the master-bedroom doors gleamed. He remembered running in them as a young boy, and crawling into his father’s giant bed after a nightmare.
To his right was his sister’s bright pink rooms. She had the second-to-largest bedroom which had its own adjoining bathroom. To his left was his and Todd’s rooms. There was a good size bathroom between the two smaller rooms. Todd’s old room was the closest to the stairs. His brother had re-decorated it after his first wife’s death and it was the only room that was updated.
Iian walked down the hallway and gripped the brass door handles to his father’s room. He had plans to change things, change his life, and the first hurdle he had to jump was behind these heavy doors. Taking a deep breath, he pushed them open and walked in knowing that these changes would help him obtain his deepest desire. Allison.
Chapter Five
Allison was enjoying herself for the first time since coming home. She was standing in the town’s small library, talking to a friend. Her mother was across the room enjoying herself as she read a book.
Tanya had been a close friend in middle school, but after her parent’s divorce she had moved away to Portland. Since her own divorce seven years ago, Tanya had moved back to Pride and taken over as vice-principal of the elementary and middle schools.
There were twenty of her school children, all around the age of eleven, quietly sitting around the small library reading or finding books.
She enjoyed Tanya’s company. Actually it was funny to look at the pair of them. Where Allison was tall and had a fair complexion with light blue eyes and fly-away blond hair, Tanya was her complete opposite. She was shorter, around five-six, and her curves had always made Allison jealous. Her darker skin and thick black hair marked her Indian heritage.
“It’s so wonderful that you’re back to stay,” Tanya was saying. Allison noticed that her friend’s eyes wandered to a group of children that had gathered towards the back of the room. Snapping her fingers, Tanya got the children’s attention and they quietly dispersed from each other. “Actually, I wanted to tell you, I went to Portland a year back and saw some of your art in that gallery downtown. I have never seen anything more beautiful than the water color you did of the shore line. You know I think it’s just terrible that you kept your wonderful talents hidden for so long.”
“I didn’t really keep them hidden away. I just didn’t tell anyone in fear of what they would think.” Allison was used to hearing this from the locals. “I love all things art,
I always have. It just took Megan giving me the push to turn it into something more than a hobby.”
“Actually, you’re giving me an idea.” Tanya ran her hand down her long dark braid. “Karen, our art teacher, has been thinking of breaking up some of her art classes. She teaches for all the elementary, middle, and junior high school kids. She’s been begging me to get someone to take the younger kids off her hands so she can focus on the older ones. Would you be interested in helping us out? It wouldn’t be a full time position, at least not to begin with. Art classes are only three days a week.” Her friend chewed her lip, waiting.
“Well…,” she said, looking across the room. Now there were two girls sitting at the desk next to her mother. She was happily reading a book to them both. Both girls smiled and laughed when her mother spoke in a deep character voice as she read a story to the pair.
This could be what she’d been looking for. A chance at a fresh start and some normality, something that would root her back into the town and give her the feeling of being needed.
Smiling to herself, she decided to take a chance.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
Three hours later, Allison sat in the kitchen watching her mother make dinner. The house had been thoroughly cleaned since her arrival. It still shined, reminding her so much of her youth. Her mother had been a typical type “A” personality. Everything had it’s place, everything had to be spotless. Allison could remember her mother yelling at her and her sister on a particular evening shortly before her father’s death. She and Abby had just arrived home from school, and their books and bags were supposed to go immediately to their rooms. This time, however, both girls had been so excited about their father being home from a long trip, they’d dropped them and ran straight to his open arms. The yelling her mother had done was one of the worst she could remember. Unknown to Allison, she had spent the whole day cleaning the house.
She watched as her mother moved around the kitchen with fluid movements in a dance she’d seen her do for years and years.
“Mom? What do you think about me teaching an art class at the middle school a few days during the week?”
“Oh, that would be lovely. You were always good at drawing. Is that what you want to do dear?”
“I think it’s something I would enjoy.” Chewing her lip she watched her mother put the milk in the cupboard. “Mother, you just put the milk in the cupboard.”
Her mother stopped, looked at her and then opened the cupboard door. “Well, look at that!” Chuckling, she pulled the milk from the cupboard and placed it in the refrigerator. “I tell you, sometimes I’m just so scatterbrained.”
“Tanya says that I would have to get my state teacher’s credential. She says it’s something I could easily study for,” she said to her mother’s back. Thinking about it, it started to sound really fun. Oh, sure, she could still do her art. Maybe even occasionally fly out for a show. After all, she would have the summer to do whatever she wanted. Taking this job wasn’t because she was hurting for money. Her art had made her enough in the past two years that she didn’t think she would have to worry about money ever again.
“Well, really!” Looking up she saw her mother standing at the sink.
“What’s wrong, mama?” Allison started to get up and go to her.
“I’m so very upset at you two right now. I thought I taught you girls better than this.” She turned and shook a hand towel at her. “Just where is your sister? No doubt hiding in her room. I suppose you’re going to tell me you had nothing to do with this.” Her mother tossed the hand towel on the table next to her. Thinking that her mother was upset that she’d left it on the countertop she tried to calm her down.
“Mom, I don’t know what you’re upset about. It’s just your hand towel.” Picking it up, she looked at it. It was an older towel, one she’d seen since her childhood, one that had seen better days. It was frayed at the ends and the pretty picture of flowers were so faded, she could hardly make them out.
“My hand towel? My hand towel! I would never have such a ragged thing as that for a hand towel.” Her mother stormed off towards her room.
Allison rubbed her temples and decided a glass of wine would help her get through the rest of the evening.
It had taken Iian a week, with his brother and Aaron’s help, to clean out all four rooms upstairs. They’d dragged everything up to the attic for storage. With all the furniture cleared out, he could focus on painting and re-carpeting. The carpet guys were going to arrive next week, which left him only a few days to patch and paint the walls.
Lacey’s old room was going to take the longest. The bright pink paint that had donned her walls for years needed so much work. He actually thought of putting siding up instead. Once he removed her barre and wall of mirrors, he had uncovered a large space that was still white. Deciding to go ahead with the paint, he knew it would take him at least three primer coats on the pink walls. This would allow him to paint them all the light yellow he’d planned. In this room, he’d decided to keep the light oak hardwood floors their father had installed years ago instead of carpeting over them. Which meant he needed to sand and stain it all.
He went to work sore the last few days, but seeing the progress on the upstairs was worth it. Besides, he was probably sore from sleeping on the couch downstairs, since the upstairs was a mess. His father’s room, which he had to start thinking of as his new room, was completely painted and ready for carpet. His old room was still gutted and would probably remain so since he was planning on working on that room last. Since Todd’s old room was the room that needed the least work, he had just slapped a fresh coat of paint and would add new furniture after the carpet was in. All he needed now was someone to share the large place with and there was only one person he could think of that fit in the empty space.
It had taken Allison hours of studying to get up the nerve to go to the campus in Edgeview and take the state test. After the test, she had walked out wondering why she’d stressed herself out. She knew all the answers, every single one. Not only was she sure that she’d passed the exam, she began to feel like she had even aced it.
She’d talked to her neighbor, Mrs. Evans, about keeping an eye on her mother while she was out. Mrs. Evans had not only enjoyed the idea, but had shown up with a big pan of coffee cake the morning of her test.
Now over two weeks after being asked by Tanya to teach, Allison was nervous. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the work. After all, she’d been painting or drawing for most of her life. What she was nervous about was standing in front of a small room of students. She had received her teacher’s certificate in the mail less than a day ago.
It had taken almost an hour that morning for her to pick out her outfit, finally choosing a pair of simple black dress slacks and a sea green silk top. She had even taken the time to french braid her hair, which had grown out since the last time she’d gotten the urge to do a short spring chop.
As she looked across the faces of her new students, she wondered if she had made the right choice. How could she have thought she could do something like this? She was an artist! She belonged in a back room somewhere painting, alone. Not in front of a class full of pig-tailed girls and runny-nosed boys that couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds. How was she going to control twenty eleven-year-old kids?
“Hello everyone, I’m Allison Adams. I’m going to be your new art teacher.” The kids all sat looking at her like she was made of glass. At least they weren’t throwing things at her yet. Turning to the chalk board, she used her colored chalk to quickly draw what she wanted. It took less than two minutes to have all the kids in the classroom laughing.
“This is a caricature.” She pointed at the likeness of herself. “Can anyone tell me what makes this a caricature and not just a drawing of myself?”
The whole class sat in silence. Then when she thought no one would answer, a small boy in the back row raised his hand.
“Yes?” Looking at h
er seating chart, she saw his name. “Yes, Sean. What makes this a caricature instead of a likeness?”
All the other kids turned and looked at the small boy who had freckles that crossed every part of his nose. His face soon matched the redness of his curly hair.
He stood and said something Allison would never forget.
“It’s a character because you drew it funny.” All the kids laughed. Sean quickly sat down with his head hung in shame.
“Hold on class. Sean is right. Take a look.” She quickly walked to the end of the chalk board and drew again, this time taking care to not accent her features comically.
“Can you see the differences?” The kids all just stared at her.
Then a little girl with blonde curly hair that was tied up in a tight pony tail raised her hand.
“Yes, Mckenna.”
“How did you do that?” She asked.
“Years of practice. Now let me show you what makes these two different.”
