Getting Over You

by Jaxson Kidman

  “I don’t want to mess up your house. You have a life.”

  “And in that life, I have a sister.”

  “Corey…”

  “I remember when you left,” he said. “When things got bad at home and Mom and Dad sent you to live with Sarah.”

  I looked at him. “So?”

  “I hated that. They never talked about it. Never talked about why it happened or if you were coming back. I never blamed you for it. I just didn’t like you not being there. So now I’m a goddamn adult and my sister is going through something. You don’t want to talk about what happened or why, then I can be okay with that if you let me help you.”

  “Who says I need help?” I asked. “I was going to go inside to get some sleep. It’s been hectic with all this happening. Dealing with his family. His friends. So many people who maybe never knew him the way I did. I was going to enjoy this place to myself.”

  “Enjoy it?” Corey asked. “So, I can assume when he was here you didn’t enjoy it…”

  “Corey…”

  “No,” he said. His face dropped. “Joking aside, Josie. You’re hurt. I don’t know exactly why. You don’t have to tell me. But I’m going to help you. I am not leaving you alone tonight. So, I can either stay here and miss my wife and my daughter… or you can come home with me. Just be with family right now, Josie. Family who loves you. And when you get tired, sleep in the guesthouse. There’s a bed. Your own space.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Something funny?”

  “Let me get my bags,” I said. “They’re already packed.”

  Corey raised an eyebrow as I flicked my cigarette off the porch.

  I walked through the house to the bedroom, my thoughts racing. There was no way I could live in the house by myself. I couldn’t afford it. I didn’t want it either. I didn’t need his memory in my face every single day. I never got to say goodbye to him. I never got to break his heart a little. That was the plan. To stand up for myself and tell him how I felt and get him out of my life.

  Or maybe he would have actually smartened up and listened to me. He could have fixed his shit and come back to me.

  It was all there for the taking… even if it was heartache, I would have gotten my goodbye.

  I took my bags out of the closet and caught my reflection in the mirror as I moved toward the bedroom door.

  That’s when I stopped and dropped the bags.

  Fine.

  I loved him.

  Maybe I even wanted to marry him.

  Maybe I wanted forever with him.

  Maybe I wanted a family too.

  That was all gone now.

  All I had were a couple of bags and a confused and broken heart.

  I was alone, but not in the way I had planned.

  12

  NOT SO QUICK…

  NOW

  Josie

  It was actually a little hard to leave the restaurant, knowing that the next time I would go there I’d be a customer. Anthony and Joe insisted I would never have to pay for food, ever. They said myself and my family were their family now and we could eat there any time we wanted.

  For as tall and stoic as Anthony stood - the man with reason and a clear plan - when he saw the final product of the mural, he began to cry. Joe had secretly slipped me a few old family pictures and asked if I could add those to the mural. He gave me the family history of who was who in the pictures and who came from Italy, and when, along with who was alive, dead, and how the family went from living in a small town in Italy to opening their first restaurant.

  The story was actually touching to hear. Joe told me that Anthony kept all the pictures and loved to look at them and tell stories. But usually only when he had a few too many glasses of wine.

  So, me adding family to the mural was Joe’s way of telling Anthony he loved him.

  The two hugged and wept like babies as I stood there, appreciating what real family meant.

  Anthony then slipped a long arm around me and hugged me. He always smelled like salty meat and expensive cologne. With tears in his eyes he promised he was going to take care of me somehow. All I could offer in return was that they paid me to do the job.

  Truthfully, the mural was probably the biggest and most important job I’d had in a really long time. It felt like just yesterday when I had my first gallery showing, thanks to a friend letting me use her shop to show off my paintings. And that night I sold three paintings and felt like a rockstar. Even though it felt like yesterday in my heart, my mind was quick to bring in reality and what happened after that.

  I actually caught myself feeling a little emotional as I drove home.

  It wasn’t too often that I went through the front door of my brother’s house when I got home, but today I had the urge to be near family. It was a little weird not seeing Crosby for a few days. As though I actually missed him or something. Which was silly because all we did was smoke and flirt. I had gotten used to it though. Always looking and waiting for him to appear while on a run.

  It was just as strange that we hadn’t exchanged numbers. In a world where everyone seemed connected at the hip - or phone screen - Crosby and I couldn’t contact each other. I actually knew where he lived but couldn’t send him a text message. It was so fitting for us though.

  When I walked through the door, I heard the soft sounds of rainfall along with something that sounded like sticks being smacked together.

  There was a smell too.

  Something spicy.

  Clove maybe?

  I walked from the foyer to the kitchen and saw Meadow sitting at the counter. Wearing a tan paper apron, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, those big and cute glasses on her face. Staring at what looked like a rainbow with a pot of gold and a leprechaun.

  She was painting.

  “Ah, there she is,” Kait said as she walked from the laundry room carrying a basket of clothes.

  “Aunt Josie,” Meadow said. “Can you help?”

  “Of course I can,” I said. “What are we working on today?”

  “I started a rainbow and it looks crappy,” she said.

  “I think it looks beautiful,” Kait said.

  “Mom,” Meadow said, looking over the top of her glasses. “It’s passive, okay? It’s a mix match of clichés. It’s deadly in the world of art.”

  I couldn’t help myself as I laughed.

  When Meadow threw sass, she threw it hard. And she would come up with sentences that made her sound so much older than she was.

  “Well then,” Kait said. “I guess I’ll stick to what I know.”

  “Exactly,” Meadow said.

  I looked back at Kait and smiled.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Then she mouthed to me, good luck.

  “So, here’s the deal,” I said to Meadow, “painting is all about feeling. It’s about what you want to say through your colors and lines.”

  “What does this painting say?” Meadow asked.

  “That’s up to you,” I said. “But the thing is… you can make it anything you want. So let’s say you don’t like this painting. I wouldn’t throw it out, Meadow. I would keep it forever. Pretend it’s a first draft. Flip the page and start again. But find your colors.”

  “I don’t get what to do,” Meadow said. “A rainbow is Roy G Biv…”

  “But you’re an artist, Meadow,” I whispered. I touched my pointer finger to her nose. “You create the world the way you want it.”

  She smiled.

  “I want to start with blue. And purple. Orange. I want old colors.”

  “Old colors,” I said. “Like a vintage rainbow. Your style.”

  “Yeah. And I don’t want a pot of gold, Aunt Josie.”

  “Okay. What do you want then?”

  “Grass,” Meadow said. “So the rainbow is life. Not money.”

  I slowly nodded. “How old are you again?”

  “Eight,” she said.

  The girl took my breath away.


  She was a genius in her own way.

  Beyond that, she was committed.

  She sat there and painted a unique and beautiful rainbow that ended into a patch of grass. Just like she had envisioned.

  It took her an hour to finish the painting.

  “I think that’s a masterpiece,” I said.

  Meadow took her apron off and climbed off her chair. She backed up a few steps and took her glasses off. She squinted her eyes and nodded.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’ll do.”

  She turned, whipping her hair, and walked away.

  Just as she exited the kitchen, she gave a wave and yelled, “Thanks, Aunt Josie! I’m going to take a bath now.”

  I laughed. My heart exploded with love for that little girl.

  Kait entered the kitchen. “Is it safe?”

  “It’s safe,” I said. “The artist has gone to take a bath.”

  “She’s crazy,” Kait said.

  “She’s amazing,” I said. “Too old for herself.”

  “I always said that. From the time she was born. Her eyes… I said it to Corey, she’s an old soul.”

  “And she’s talented. Really talented.”

  When Kait saw the painting, she covered her mouth and looked ready to cry.

  Kait could be annoying - she was annoying - but her heart was as big as Meadow’s.

  “You’re amazing, Josie,” she said. “We’re so lucky to have you here. And in Meadow’s life.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You balance everything out. I know you won’t be staying forever, but if you did, I would be okay with it.”

  “Well, thank you for saying that,” I said.

  “I want you to have your moment too, Josie. With your paintings. Do you still have your old stuff?”

  “I’m good right now,” I said. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

  “A walk?”

  “A walk,” I said.

  We both knew what that meant.

  I was changing the focal point of the conversation… and I wanted to have a smoke.

  I stood at my car and enjoyed myself. Peace and quiet. And a cigarette.

  My eyes slowly scanned the street, secretly hoping Crosby would be on a run.

  But it was just me.

  I stood outside long after I was done smoking, letting too many thoughts come to me at once.

  When I decided to accept the offer to live in the guesthouse for good, I did nothing but paint. Hours on end, losing track of morning, noon, night, days and weeks. Corey was concerned, but Kait told him it was just my way of grieving. They were both right. I just had the urge to paint and I couldn’t control it. The thing was… everything I painted, it wasn’t meant to be seen or sold. It was just to paint and nothing else.

  I painted until my body crashed.

  I slept for fifteen hours once and that was that. I put everything away and never went back to those paintings.

  It had been a long time since that crazy urge overtook me, but it was starting to happen again.

  When I walked back to the house, I skipped going through the house and went to the guesthouse. To my home. I took a long shower that was much needed hours ago and I caught myself sitting on a stool in front of my easel, just staring at the blank sheet of paper. I had everything near me to paint. I had plenty of things running through my mind. I had the urge to do it too.

  But I didn’t paint.

  For good reason.

  Anything I would have painted would have pertained to Crosby. And by doing that, it would make things just a little more real. Maybe not between us, but at least for me. We were gently walking a fine line between enjoying flirting and letting things take another step forward. That step forward involved talking, which would lead to truths that I preferred to keep tight to my chest.

  The next morning I had coffee and breakfast then went to my car to go meet with a woman named Cheryl. She headed up some kind of organization to do with local parks and was looking for an artist to paint an old wall at one of them. It was a long shot to get the job, but it was something to do.

  I opened the driver’s door to my car and spotted something on the seat.

  It was a keychain.

  A keychain in the shape of a guitar.

  I hurried to look around, smiling so big it almost hurt.

  Crosby was back home, and he brought me a keychain.

  I bit my lip as I got into my seat, putting the keychain into the cupholder.

  My eyes wouldn’t stop looking at it.

  I sort of hated what it made me feel. Almost giddy. Looking at the keychain made me blush a little. Because it meant he thought about me while he was gone. Just like I had thought about him.

  More than ever, I needed to see him.

  I hooked the keychain around my pinky finger as I leaned against my car.

  The long day was finally coming to an end.

  I chased away the day by watching the road, waiting for Crosby.

  I felt very happy to see him. Too eager to see him.

  It was almost pathetic how excited my body got at the thought of him.

  But in some odd way, he was all I really had in my life at that moment. Not that it was his job to take care of me or anything, it was just nice to have someone like him. Basically, a stranger I could flirt with.

  Although the keychain on my finger suggested that the word stranger was slowly taking on a different meaning.

  Just as I finished my cigarette and clasped my hand around the keychain, willing to submit to another day, I saw something to my right. Coming up from the horizon I saw a black dot which turned into a head, into a messy head of hair, into a bandana…

  … into Crosby.

  My heart picked up its pace as Crosby ran toward me.

  There wasn’t a slip up in my mind of how good he looked in a sleeveless shirt as he ran, but seeing it in my mind versus in person was very different. The roundness of his shoulders and the cut lines of his arms made me want another cigarette.

  As he got closer, I wanted to chase him down and jump into his arms. My lips started to tingle, thinking about his goodbye kiss.

  “There she is,” Crosby said to me as he slowed his running.

  He jogged right up to me and instead of me going toward him, I stepped back and hit my own car.

  I jumped, gasped, almost feeling like I was about to be attacked, but it wasn’t that at all.

  Crosby just made me feel…

  He grinned and took a few deep breaths. “Took a different path today. Thought I was going to be too late and miss you.”

  My mouth moved like a ventriloquist’s dummy, complete with no sound.

  “And here I’m standing,” I managed to say.

  “Did you get your present?” he asked me.

  I opened my hand and showed him the guitar keychain dangling from my pinky finger.

  “You broke into my car, Crosby.”

  “The door was unlocked.”

  “It’s still breaking in,” I said. “I called the police. Filed a report.”

  “Really?” he asked. “What report? A kind and handsome man giving you a gift from a place where he visited on business…”

  “Yeah, you totally sound like a rockstar,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  I turned to open the door and get him a cigarette when Crosby touched my hips and inched even closer. I gasped again as I faced off with him. Well… I was looking up at him. He suddenly looked twice my height.

  “Rockstar, huh?” he asked.

  Before I could respond with anything, Crosby had his lips to mine. And this wasn’t just some little kiss either. This was… real.

  Really real.

  Really fucking real.

  His lips parted, guiding mine to do the same. Believe me, I didn’t need any coaxing for that. As his tongue flirted with mine, I felt myself beginning to melt in a dangerous way. I touched his shirt, feeling his sweat. That popped an image into my mind. Me sweating… because
of him… and not just from kissing either…

  His body pressed against mine, his knees bent to lower his height to mine.

  He turned his head to the left, kissing me with a slow passion that left me shaky. Then he turned his head to the right and kissed me harder. Faster. The kiss suddenly becoming sloppy, laced with intention, and we were right there almost in the middle of the street.

  My mind screamed to stop kissing him. My body said don’t you fucking dare ruin this moment…

  But Crosby stopped kissing me.

  Just as I reached the point of no return. And by no return that meant finding somewhere to go to jump him - or let him jump me. It had been embarrassingly too long for me since I had anything exciting happen in my life.

  He licked his lips on purpose and made sure I saw him do it.

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  He kissed my ability to talk away.

  So, I foolishly turned and got each of us a smoke.

  Crosby looked cool as hell as he smoked while I hugged myself, eyeing him every few seconds, wondering what it felt like to have him against me. Or inside me.

  My mind and heart were racing now.

  “How was your trip?” I asked, demanding to bring things to a sense of normal.

  “Bullshit, as expected,” Crosby said.

  “Why?”

  “Just was, love,” he said.

  Love?

  “I’m sorry then.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “It keeps everyone happy. I got to see the songs I wrote played live. As long as those songs hit, I’ll have more work.”

  “So, it was a good trip then,” I said.

  He grinned as he took a deep drag. “Yeah, it was something.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t good, then why go? Was it because someone else is playing your songs?”

  Crosby raised an eyebrow. “Damn, love. One kiss and you’re jumping right into my personal life, huh?”

  “You started it,” I said. “You broke into my car.”

  “Come for a run with me and I’ll tell you.”

  “Right now?”

  “You can run in that if you want,” he said. “I’d love to see you running in jeans and that shirt.”

  “Eyes up here, buddy,” I said.

  Although it was kind of nice to have Crosby checking me out.