The Color of Us

by Jessica Park

As I’m bringing out the first tray of blueberry treats to the picnic tables, a new idea hits me.

  “Green eggs and ham,” I whisper excitedly as I set down Danny’s parfait.

  “I’m a Dr. Seuss fan, too, but what?”

  “Slow-cooked scrambled eggs mixed with a spinach, basil, and parsley sauce. Ham on the side. One of my bookmarked recipes that I’ve been waiting to try. Thought it’d be work for brunch when my mom is here. I needed a fourth dish.”

  “And that is definitely it.”

  Before brunch has ended, I excuse myself and spend a bit of time finally tackling my old bedroom and Erica’s while my friends hang out by the dock, swimming, blasting music, and laughing like crazy. Their noise brings me nothing but joy. It’s a quick job to remove posters, box up clothing for donations, and put on fresh bedding. Surprisingly, it’s less painful than I thought it would be, but maybe because I’m in a better place than when I first got back to Wake. As I’m working on Erica’s room though, I stop and impulsively text her with a video of what’s left in her room, asking if she wants me to save anything.

  Moments later, she replies.

  Wow. Strange to see all of my old stuff. Not sure what to say. Maybe you could pick out some things? I mean, if you don’t mind. But obviously, that revolting poster with the precious uplifting saying has to be overnighted.

  I actually laugh out loud as I text back.

  “Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars,” doesn’t still rock your world? Or is it the “Be the girl who decided to go for it!” poster? Sooo many choices here.

  BURN THE WHOLE HOUSE TO THE GROUND, LOL!

  Even as I giggle, I can see that her joking request isn’t the worst idea really, given the amount of work this house needed even the last time she saw it years ago.

  Let me try a solid renovation first. If that fails, as it might, you have a deal.

  The text that I get back from her shocks me in such a wonderful way.

  Work some magic, sister.

  Later, I might turn one of our old bedrooms into a reading nook or something. I could create a lovely space for myself and keep the other as a guest room. It’d be fun to have Marlena visit. While we’ve been texting and talking over the weeks that I’ve been gone, it’s not the same as being with her in person. And one of these days, maybe even Erica could come visit.

  Before I cross the lawn to the tables I hold back and watch for a bit. Inhale this new life that I’ve created for myself. For the first time—maybe ever really—I am whole and unashamed. Even in front of this large group, I am compelled to make my way to Danny, grab him around the waist, and deeply kiss the guy who is always my champion and someone who has played such an instrumental part in me shedding my past. Danny and I break apart in laughter at the whistles and whooping but not so far apart that I don’t hear him when he tells me that I’d better pack a bag.

  “And a big one. As of tomorrow, you’re staying with me—you know that, right? With all the demo we’re doing over the next two weeks, it’s not going to be safe here. I don’t want you breathing in dust, paint, and all that shit. Plus, you’ll obviously not have a usable kitchen, and I know you—you’re going to need to cook.”

  “So, you’re going to take me home tonight?”

  “I am,” he confirms with a flirty smile. “I hate to sleep alone.”

  It takes me a minute, but I laugh. “And I know you too. Tell me that this doesn’t make me company?”

  “Nope. My guardian angel,” he says sincerely. “Eddie Money was everything. Just as you are.”

  thirty-three

  As much as I love my house, it’s a breath of fresh air to be in a new environment. His environment. We’ve been together at my place for more days than I can count, and now, it makes me feel closer to him to be in the space that he designed.

  Most single guys his age live in messy, grungy, dirty, un-styled apartments, whereas Danny’s house is anything but. It might be small, but he’s designed every corner with thought. And of course, color. The glimpse I had of it before didn’t give me time to enjoy the feel of being in this space, and it’s nothing but inspiring.

  Thoughtfully, he programmed the coffeepot to brew up a strong Sumatra blend, so I don’t have to do much after I get up besides add in milk and sugar to our mugs. Before I bring him a cup, I again admire the bright tiles he did in there. This kitchen sets such a homey, comforting tone, one I hope I’ll have in mine.

  When I get back to the bedroom, Danny is starting to rouse, his eyes half-open as he stretches. “I feel a hunger …”

  I laugh as he continues quoting lyrics from last night. “For coffee?”

  “Nope, not at all. But I’ll take it. Thank you.” He scoots himself up to a sitting position and takes a sip. “You ready for today?”

  “I am. Very ready. And I was going to ask if I could help.”

  “With the demo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to smash some shit?” he asks as he adjusts his position against the pillow.

  “Yes, but don’t look worried. This isn’t like my mantel and bathroom. I want to smash some shit for the right reasons.”

  “Then, you will.”

  “I’m gonna look sexy in those protective glasses, right?”

  “Oh, yes, you are, babe!” As he throws his legs off the bed, he pauses. “One thing? Your old furniture is getting picked up today. It’ll be donated, which is good. And it’s also good that Paul helped reschedule the delivery of your new furniture for after the rest of the house is done.”

  “Thank God. I’m glad he was on top of that because I might have jumped the gun when I ordered, but trying to manage the timing of all of this stuff is not easy.”

  “You’re fine. We got you.”

  After we’re fully caffeinated, we head to my place with Shallots hanging his head out the window, per usual.

  It is cathartic when we trash the cabinets in my kitchen, haul out appliances, break up the floor, and demolish the windows. We are making room for much more.

  While there is part of me that feels a degree of sadness about breaking apart what was here—the history of this house—mostly, I feel great joy about creating an even better space. And I think that my grandparents would have approved. There is nothing wrong with change, and I know that my grandmother in particular would have appreciated my desire to have a lovely kitchen from which I could cook and host brunches.

  There is a big piece of me that pours anger on Danny’s behalf into this process. While he might not admit it or be fully aware of it, the pain Danny carries because of his mother is real, and it is significant. And one day, it’s going to become too much.

  I hate that for him.

  Hours later, when there is nothing left of this kitchen but the bare bones, Danny wants to drive me home, but he gets that I need to literally walk off this day. It’s not far to his place, but I promise to text him when I’m back there with Shallots. Before I leave, I do have to take a few minutes to watch Matteo and Slowski as they start the process of painting the living room. Not only are they in full head-to-toe covering, but they’re also up on crazy, ladderlike stilts, spraying the walls from canisters. Paul has removed the railing from the stairs, and I laugh, thinking that he’s probably happy to have a traumatic memory gone from this house.

  Danny hands me Shallots’s leash and kisses me. “I’m going to sweep out the kitchen a bit more and help Paul, but I’ll see you in a bit.”

  The walk back to his place is exactly what I needed. Today was intense, and although it was in a wonderful way, I need some quiet. We round the turn into his house, and I instinctively lead us back to the greenhouse, the one filled with his mom’s glasswork. It’s like being in a fairy tale of some sort with all of these otherworldly, spellbinding bulbs floating above me. While I’m blasted by countless colors, it’s ultimately soothing. Somehow, all of these colored orbs come together in perfection, and I find myself gently dropping to the floor an
d lying back. Shallots moves beside me and sets his head on my chest.

  “That’s some view, isn’t it, you sweet pup?”

  I lie there for over an hour, taking in the creativity, the drive, and the care that Danny’s mother must have put into each of these to produce such beautiful art. She’s a genius.

  And a monster.

  The truth of her neglect almost punches me in the gut. I think of how she could give so much of herself to her work and seemingly none of herself to Danny. Her son deserved the world, and she gave him nothing. He’s never going to get anything close to the kind of love he should have from his mother.

  Who in the hell would abandon their kid as she did?

  With great sadness, I leave and walk back to Danny’s.

  While Shallots and I are snuggled up on his couch, I have to distract myself, so I Google all that I need to make Slowski’s requested agedashi tofu dish. While I’m not convinced I can pull it off, I order what I need. The dashi broth is key, and I buy kombu kelp and bonito flakes online. I need a deep fryer, but I figure I’ll use that more than just for this. Not sure where I’ll find fresh daikon around here, so I’ll probably have to skip that garnish.

  It’s hard, not being at my house, and it gets harder when days later, the boys all ban me from coming back because they want the kitchen and the whole interior to be a surprise. I’m entirely annoyed and frustrated with them, but Danny is happy to let me take my frustrations out on him.

  So, I cook more, play with new recipes, test out the tofu dish for Slow. It takes a few tries before I’m happy with it, and his smile when he savors it makes it worth the work. Even Danny agrees to give it a taste and is forced to admit how good it is. Tofu isn’t usually my thing, and I haven’t tried to cook much Asian cuisine yet, but by day ten in my forced “lockdown”—as I’ve been calling it—I’ve toyed around with a number of new Asian recipes, including an incredible Korean spicy soft-tofu stew.

  When I bring a pot over to my house, I do my best to sneak a peek inside the windows, but I’m totally busted by the guys and banished. Still, they take the stew, and later, my phone blows up with fire emojis because it’s fiercely and wonderfully spicy, and I smile at the countless thumbs-ups. And requests to make this again and again. It’s a victory that I didn’t expect but one I accept with great joy.

  Later that night, after we’re in bed, Danny pulls me on top of him and strokes his hands up and down my back for what feels like too long. “I have to tell you something, Callie.” He avoids looking at me. “I don’t know how to say this, but I have to.”

  His serious tone makes me nervous, and I feel my breath catch and my stomach become nothing but knots. But whatever he has to say, I need to hear it.

  “Okay.”

  He puts his hands on my face and makes me look at him. “I hate you for making me sincerely, really, deeply like tofu.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I say, laughing with relief as I drop my head into the crook of his neck and fight back emotion. “Such an asshole. You really had me worried there for a second.”

  While I try to play it off as embarrassment, he doesn’t buy it.

  “Hey, hey … what’s going on?” He lifts his mouth to my ear. “Why are you shaking? I was just teasing. Were you legitimately worried?”

  It takes too long for me to say, “Nothing. I didn’t mean it.”

  “No. You meant it. What are you worried about?” he asks again. “Tell me.”

  “I’m waiting for the bomb to drop,” I whisper. Something that I didn’t realize myself until now.

  “What bomb?” His hands move to my shoulders, and he pushes me up, trying to make me look at him directly.

  But I can’t face him, so I turn my head. “The one that eradicates this new life I have. The one that makes me lose you. Lose us.” It’s not a truth that I love voicing, and it makes my heart literally race, but it is my truth. “I’ve never had anything close to this in my life. Whatever is going on between us? Fuck, I never even knew this could exist. Everything is too right. Of course, I’m afraid it will all go way.”

  “You won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He glides a hand into my hair, and he speaks so gently and so sincerely. So honestly. “Because I want to know what it feels like to fall so deeply in love that I can never come out of it. Because I want to be so engulfed and so intrinsically tied to another person.” My heart is pounding again when he tells me, “I want that with you. And that is not something I could tolerate losing.”

  The relief I feel makes me quiet in my response but only because I’m floored and shaken in such marvelous ways. “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Besides,” he says with a grin that I still see under the hint of moonlight that pushes into the room, “I made you a super-sexy kitchen, and I need to be part of my life forever.”

  Because he’s put me at much ease, I’m able to laugh. “Oh, did you?”

  “It’s really damn hot.” He flips me onto my back and lifts my hands above my head.

  “All the ideas were mine,” I remind him.

  He scoops my lower back and raises my hips. “And all the ideas for what’s going to happen next are mine.”

  Not surprisingly, he’s got exceptional ideas.

  On a Thursday evening, after about two weeks since my banishment, I am finally given an escort back to my house. Matteo, Slowski, and Paul stand outside as Danny walks me inside. It’s a miracle that my knees don’t buckle when he swings open the front door.

  Simple white has taken over dark walls, and I love how the basic paint is now illuminating my living room, just as I hoped. While the main floor of my house looks incredibly different, it looks exactly as I envisioned. And then I gasp and clap and jump up and down because the furniture I picked out works perfectly for the space.

  They walk me through the details, but I can barely hear what anyone is saying because my mind is totally blown by how perfect this space is. How light and comforting it is, how much roomier it feels. The fireplace that I wrecked and rebuilt now shines, mostly because of the framed pictures on the mantel. A number of old ones of me, my parents, and sister but also new ones from this summer. Shots of the brunches, one of Danny kissing my cheek, me and Mary Ann raising baskets of veggies that we picked from her farm, one of me and Paul with his arm over my shoulders, in which he is actually smiling and looking less severe than usual.

  “You guys …” I stammer for words.

  “And look. There are more,” Slowski says as he gestures to both sides of the fireplace. “Mary Ann got large black-and-white prints of your house. Before, during, and after.”

  Slowly, I walk and take in everything. The photos are astonishingly gorgeous, and it means so much to have these visuals. Each photo is special. My friends working on the roof and installing windows, laboriously painting the outside and inside of this house. Danny staining the porch, Paul measuring the stairs.

  Oh, the stairs! I almost forgot to look, and I whip around to take in the renovation.

  “Paul.” I look to him.

  “I know. The iron railing is perfect,” he says with a wink.

  I smile. “It is. Even more so than I envisioned.”

  “No. Take a second and look to see how perfect it really is.” Danny pivots me back to the stairs until I notice something else.

  I almost laugh when I see it. “It’s missing a banister,” I whisper. “Our banister.”

  “I think this is Paul giving us his blessing,” he whispers back. “Now, look up a bit more,” he coaxes.

  What I see makes me catch my breath. What hangs on the large wall beside the stairs is the framed parchment from the night he painted my body, the night he lifted me from such intense self-doubt and such melancholy. As I lean against his chest and take a minute to absorb what this art represents, how it shows how far I’ve come, how I am not the same person who I was just months ago, relief takes over, almost crushes me so
wonderfully.

  “I’m so grateful for that night. And for you.” Then, I do laugh a bit. “God, that’s a lot of wall. I’ll have to find something else to hang there.”

  “I’ll help you,” he promises.

  “Show her the rest.” My surrogate father-slash-contractor breaks up the moment. I know he doesn’t want me to get all huggy and emotional. Because then he might.

  The tour continues.

  “Wait, what?” I nearly shout. “The dining room table isn’t squashed against the stairs anymore. There’s so much room now.”

  Danny steps beside me and puts his arm around my waist. “Yep. Once the old furniture was gone and your new stuff was moved in, we realized that we could make a cozy space around the fireplace and make more room for an actual dining spot.”

  “Like, I could maybe fit in another table?”

  “Okay, let’s not get carried away,” Paul says rather sternly. “You have enough people to feed every Sunday. There’s got to be a limit.”

  I do love how he watches out for me.

  “Fine.” And now, I cannot wait any longer. “The kitchen? Please?”

  “It’s so beyond sexy,” Danny promises. “I gotcha.”

  He takes my hand and walks me ahead, and I notice that Paul waves a hand to Matteo and Slow, silently telling them to let us go in alone.

  It’s everything I wanted. More really. I could never have pictured exactly how it would turn out based on what I asked for, and I’m totally blown away. The varying shades of green on the walls and the cabinets, the perfect butcher block counters and island, the stupendous greenhouse window? Even more spectacular than I had hoped for. I spend a decent amount of time drooling over my vintage-looking appliances, and I already cannot wait to fire up the gas burners on the stove.

  My knees nearly buckle, and I grab on to Danny. “There has never been a more beautiful kitchen.” I let go only because I want to run my hands over every tile, every cabinet, every countertop. To touch the floating wood shelves and feel the texture of the backsplash. “I’m going to cook all the things for all of you.”