Page 57 of Switched At Birth


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“Being pushed out of your comfort zone isn’t a bad thing, you know.” It’s meant to be an encouragement, and Devin takes it that way with the easy-going smile on his face.

“So, are we going to paint or are you all going to gab all day long?” Lainey says, finding an easel in the back part of the room.

“You have to watch that girl,” Collin says out of nowhere. “She’s the one I’d call the wild factor.”

Collin is quiet, but when he has something to say, he says it.

Noah stares at each kid, as if he already knows how special they are.

* * *

“Fuck,I’m tired. That was so much fun, but man, kids can wear you out.” He’s holding my hand, taking the steps to the second floor to my apartment. The intermediate class was great. Each kid was in awe of Noah, as he introduced them to acrylic painting.

He’s holding our Chinese food, and I fish through my backpack for my keys. I’ve tried to work on my own insecurities about my living conditions. It clearly doesn’t bother him, having asked to stay at my place a handful of times.

“Thank you for sharing this part of you with me. I can’t wait to see where my man lays his head down each night.”

“You may not be thinking that when we’re both jammed into a full-sized bed.”

“You know how much I love to spoon you, so, don’t worry about me. I’m not hungry yet. Can you show me your room?”

My eyes squint toward his, a questioning look on my face. “Is that code for something? Because…” I take the food from his arms and place it in the small galley kitchen, wrapping my hands around him.

“No, and don’t worry. I’ve not fucked you in three days, but, right now, I want to see more of you, so lead the way,” he demands.

“It’s the door at the end of the hall.” With a wave of my hand, he follows me. My room isn’t much. Four walls, with a bed, but most of the space holds my art desk, an easel, and a bookshelf with a thousand supplies.

“I pay seventy-five dollars more a month to have my own bathroom. Comes in handy with paint and such.”

One wall is completely covered with old paintings of mine. Nothing that is worth much sold, but worth a million dollars because they all hold so many memories. There’s a large cork board with some of my favorite mementos on display. It’s the first thing that catches his eyes. He steps toward it, touching the tassel of my graduation caps, one from high school and the other from college. There’s a small 3-D Kermit the Frog, the last thing my dad gave me.

“We were in the entryway of a small pizza joint, and I begged my dad to get me something from one of those silly machines, where you put in a quarter, you twist it, and whatever you just won comes out in a rounded dome you open. It was that small Kermit the Frog. Three days later, my dad died. I may not remember a lot about him, but I remember that day, and how happy I was with my Dad.” Noah’s hand squeezes my shoulder, dropping a kiss onto my nose.

“Is this a speeding ticket?” he asks. moving from left to right.

“Oh, yeah. A reminder to me never to speed because my insurance went up by a hundred dollars a month. Believe me, it was a painful lesson.”

There’s a postcard my sister sent me from her trip in California when her softball team made it to nationals. Next to it is a picture of my mom when she was twenty-two.

“Is this Tia with blonde hair?”

“No, it’s my mom. Uncanny, isn’t it? Tia has always had red hair, though.”

He nods his head, stopping on one of my favorite memories. “You went to see Pearl Jam this year?” He points to the date on the ticket stub.

“Yeah, I worked so hard for that ticket. I remember it because it was the day after my birthday.”

Noah turns around, a tear in his eye. What did I say?

“My brother and I went too. I remember it because it was our birthday.”

I guess it would be, since we’re just a day apart. “It was so cold. Tia was bundled up in the biggest, ugliest blue puffer jacket, and all I wore was a flannel. I was so fucking cold. But, I mean, we were in Seattle with the best grunge band ever.”

“I can’t argue with you. So funny we were both there at the same time. It’s like we were meant to be.” My heart warms with Noah’s comment. He’s right. I think we werealways meant to be.

He asks me questions about my mementos on the board, and I tell him everything. I won’t keep anything back, and I find that I don’t want to.

21

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