I feel all dreamy as I lean on my mom’s kitchen counter, spouting… “Oliver and I are getting along famously. I love his kisses, which he seems to love to give—a lot. He’s quirky, but he’s also sentimental. Did You know he has something from every girl he’s ever dated or crushed on? I mean, how sweet is that?”
My mom laughs. “And this doesn’t make you jealous?”
“Not at all! He keeps the souvenirs in a box in his closet, which he loves to torment me with. He totally won’t let me see it. So.. I just decided to give it a name. I call it the “back burner box” or the “BBB”. It makes it less mysterious, therefore less intimidating.”
My mom’s chopping vegetables. “Tell me more, Katie.”
“Well! If you insist…he absolutely fruitly loves basketball. It’s like his favorite sport to watch and play. It’s the only game he plays on his Xbox. He also loves sports stats.”
“And has he discovered your stats yet?” She raises an eyebrow.
“That’s a negative. I haven’t found a way to tell him yet, but he’s seen my team pictures in my room. You know how I feel about being defined as an athlete.”
“Is it really the worst thing? I mean, some people relocate because they’re hiding from a criminal record or something.”
I take a deep breath. “Anyway…. As I was saying…He’s big on family—very cool. He lives with two younger siblings and his parents. His great grandpa also lives in his house. He’s physically fine, but his memory is going fast, and that’s been hard. Oliver says they’re lucky because his grandpa is still nice, even when he’s confused, but he keeps them on their toes.” My mom chops away. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use the food processor?”
“Well, yes. But I have the time and it’s good for my arms. It’s my gym workout.”
“Makes sense. Mom? Oliver tells me that he’s never ever had a girlfriend who has the conversations that he and I have. I want to believe him. I really do, and I don’t want to think he’s feeding me lines because eventually he’s going to ask for something that I may not be willing to give. I’m just not ready.”
My mom clears her throat. “Well, I’m glad we’re having this conversation, no matter how awkward. I think it’s great that you recognize how you feel beforehand. And I think it’s just as important you listen to your gut feeling. If you’re not ready, that’s okay, no matter how much you care for him.”
“I know. It’s just I hate that I worry so much about these things and that I probably have trust issues. I know it’s irrational to think all boys are like Dad. I know this. But it’s still hard to really know it.”
Mom comes over and hugs me tight. “Katie. I wish I could tell you not to measure every guy by your dad, but I can’t. Just try to remember the good times with him, because there were a lot of them. It doesn’t do any good to stay bitter forever. Besides, haven’t you loved this move? I mean, you’re closer to your best friend and you’ve got a boyfriend! And I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself lately! I mean, if you’d asked me a year ago if I would ever run my own business and be okay on my own, I can’t imagine what I would have said.”
Her words make me happy, but I’m still stuck on the negative. “I get it, mom. I do. It’s just dad makes me so angry! He turned in to a major user who only looks out for number one! And it didn’t matter to him that he hurt me, and he hurt you. I don’t get it. I don’t know how he could do that. And I hate that his stupidity is interfering with my life on so many levels. It’s not fair. Like, I tell myself that if dad were still here, I wouldn’t have the trust issues and I wouldn’t be waiting for Oliver to mess up.”
She stands here, watching me. “Katie. Are you sure this is all about your dad?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you sure you’re not just putting up barriers to avoid getting hurt?”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“If you keep up a wall all the time, even if it’s a small one, then no one can really hurt you.”
“I don’t know. I’ll think about it. I’d better get to work. Esmerelda called me in last minute.” No sooner do I get to work than a hot girl comes in the door, looking a little confused.
“What do you fancy?”
“Excuse me?”
“Would you like a cupcake?”
“Um, no. I’m looking for Israel?”
I run to the base of the stairs, all excited. “Israel! Someone’s here for you!”
He moseys down the stairs. “Quien es?”
He deserves a little teasing. “Trust me, you won’t be
disappointed.”
They meander off to a corner in the room.
I whistle to myself, I can’t help it. I’m excited about Israel’s potential love life.
Five minutes later, another girl pops in. “What do you fancy?”
“Yes. I’m looking for Israel.”
Hmm, it’s probably just a coincidence, but I feel doubt creeping in. I rush off to the side room and poke my head in. “Israel?”
He looks annoyed as he comes over. “Yes, Katie?”
I point toward the front counter. “She’s looking for you, too.”
He starts toward her, but then here comes two more, and I’m guessing they’re here for Israel. I choke a little. He turns around and watches them walk through the door.
He steps up to me and sticks out his hand like a parent.
“Dame su telefono.”
I choke. “Heck to the no, I’m not giving you access to my very personal, artificial appendage.”
“Katie. Give it here.”
I’m feeling scolded. “Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Are you telling me you have no idea why these girls are lining up to see me?”
“Um, no?”
“Really? Are you going to try and play the innocent with me? You have no idea? None at all?”
By this time, Esmerelda is in the room. “What are you two doing? Why aren’t you waiting on our customers?”
Israel spins around. “Mama! These women aren’t customers. They’re here to have their portrait painted for free by me.”
Esmerelda looks at him funny. “And why would you do this thing for free?”
Israel answers, “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her, and while you are at it, ask her how the hell I got on match.com looking for a soulmate.
Oh crapola. It’s all coming to me now. I can’t help it. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Okay, okay. Yes. I may have done this, but it was with the best of intentions. I just wanted you to be happy, Israel.” Although I know nothing about the painting deal, I’m not giving up JuneBug. I wouldn’t do that to my bestie.
Israel glares at me. “Who else is on this? I bet your little internet friend knows something.”
“Come on, Israel. Lighten up. It was just me. I just wanted you to get over the selfish bi… person you were so hung up on. I thought if you met someone else you could move on and maybe have a little fun.” I throw up my hands. “Honest. And so maybe I got a little anxious and tried to make things happen. I’m really sorry. Let me tell the ladies there’s been a big misunderstanding.”
Israel gives me a glare. I can see in his fiery, macho eyes he’s too proud to admit to Anyone a teenage girl got the best of him. “No. You will do no such thing. Just take down the stupid profile. Ahora. I will hold up your stupid promise. I am a man of my word. I will paint them, even it takes all night.”
“Fine. At least let me do this.” I pull up his profile on my phone and delete it. “There! See, it’s gone!” He turns to his little group of women.
“Senoritas, follow me—venga aqui’” And away his followers go, through his magical trap door, up his beckoning staircase, to the room of dreams of beauty, where faces appear on canvas, as real as if they were standing right next to you. The artist with his wondrous brushes shall gaze upon their effervescent youth and capture their timeless allure with a stroke of his astonishingly talented hand…
“Katie! Katie!”
Dang it, I was really on a roll. “Yes, Esmerelda?”
“Do you really worry about my son and if he’s unhappy?”
“Well, yes. A little. I mean, that last girl really did a number on him.”
Esmerelda pats my arm. “You are young, so I forgive you. But you can’t find happiness with trickery; Israel must learn to be honest with himself before he can be honest with anyone else.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I just nod my head and go pick up the broom and start cleaning. Before I know it, it’s time to go home.
I leave. As I’m driving away, I see in my rearview mirror the lights on up above in the store. He probably will be up all night. Oh well, he’s young. I cannot wait to tell JuneBug what happened! I send her a text. “What in the world did you add to Israel’s profile?” I get no response, so I busy myself.
I study for my test tomorrow over The Grapes of Wrath, which I hated reading. Super boring. I would have much rather read like the Diary of Anne Frank. Now that is a book I could have just climbed into.
..a brilliant, charming, girl in hiding living in dark, hidden spaces. Absolute silence during the day, carefully rationing out her food every day because she doesn’t know how long she will be captive. She’s slowly starving to death, yet helpless to stop it as she hides from the evil German devil spawn who all follow a fascist dictator with serious mommy issues and self-hatred. Freud would have had a friggin’ hay day, probably did, actually..
Nope. Instead, we get to read the incredibly dry, boring, tiresome Grapes of Wrath about family and survival.
It’s getting late, and my eyes cross trying to focus on this stupid story. I think I’ll go see if Israel is home, and if he’s still not talking to me. I leave the house quietly and sneak over to the She-Shed.
Israel’s musica’ is growing on me. I sing some of the words as I walk in. I try to make myself known as I enter his painting studio by knocking on the wall.
I come around the corner to the sight of waves of long black hair, followed by a very curvy, very naked backside of a woman, lying on a blanket on the floor. I’m so distracted by her bare butt that it takes me a minute to see Israel standing off to the side, brush in hand, wearing some little excuse for men’s briefs. I could be wrong, but they may not be men’s.
For the ever-loving state of Minnesota! Someone please make me invisible like five seconds ago. I’m frozen with shock. As much as I want to move my size twelve feet in the opposite direction, I’m incapable. I double over with silent laughter. My shoulders heave as silent giggles take over my entire six-foot frame. Of all the times to become immovable with ridiculous hilarity, this is one of my top ten worst. I’m at the height of my awkwardness, and yet, I can’t seem to stop it. So, here I stand, bent at the waist, giggling uncontrollably, trying to ignore the death-glare I’m getting from Israel.
My feet manage to move toward vacating the premises before I pee my pants. Wow. If I thought Israel was angry with me before, I know for certain that he is now, which is completely unfair considering I had no idea he was painting nudes. I bust out in giggles again from just thinking of the word, nudes.
I’m sure this makes me immature in the art world; but it’s just too perfectly hilarious picturing Israel standing there, in the midst of a dress and heels lying at his feet while he’s standing in front of the big blank canvas, holding a paint palette of a variety of colors, wearing nothing but a pair of girl’s panties; acting all indignant. And then, to top it off, seeing the very curvaceous young backside, naked as the day she was born, sporting an athletic Nike sign on her right butt cheek. Her logo could be changed to “Just Do Me”, and it’d probably be more relevant.
I stand at the She-Shed door in my frozen state of shock when I spy Israel moving like a flash across the room, his paintbrush still in hand. He’s giving me quite the “you’d better hope and pray a cop finds you first because I’m going to kill you and bury you in the backyard” look.
Although part of me wants to stay and take on Israel and his tiny panties, it’s probably not the best idea. So instead, I holler out to him while I’m stumbling over pieces of dust as I step out the door, “Don’t get your panties in a twist!”
Bonus! I totally get a phone pic of him chasing me! An army of African fire ants partially eating me alive couldn’t stop me from sending this picture to JuneBug! I laugh so hard I think I need a ventilator to help me breathe. Israel in those panties is by far the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.