Reclaiming the Sand
Page 60

This had been an ongoing discussion. Flynn had latched onto my applying for school like Murphy with his squeaky toy. He was emphatic that I should do it.
That it would make me happy.
Everything always came back to that. What made me happy. And to Flynn that was the most important thing.
I was terrified to commit to something like that. I didn’t know if I was ready for that significant of a step.
But the longer I stayed in Wellsburg, the harder it was to pretend I was content with where my life was headed.
I was happy with Flynn. I was happy with taking a few college courses. But both had opened my eyes to what else I could do. What else I could be. And that was a tempting image.
I would never have been able to dream of it without Flynn. He had been to college. He had left Wellsburg. For someone so isolated and disconnected, he had experienced more than I ever had.
My eyes fell to the guitar case propped up against the wall in the corner of Flynn’s bedroom. I kept it here because he liked me to play for him. I had purchased a few second hand music books at the consignment shop in town and was attempting to teach myself a few new chords. No matter how horrible I sounded, Flynn always clapped. Even if he was brutally honest and would tell me if I sucked.
That was what being in a healthy relationship was. Cheering someone on even when their efforts blew huge monkey balls.
And that’s what he was doing now. He’d tell me if I f**ked up. But he’d encourage me anyway.
“I have a meeting with the head of the Continued Education Planning Department. She’s going to help me do some applications online and see where that goes. You know if I’m doing this, you should see if Professor Channing is around. Maybe talk with him about doing some more workshops,” I suggested.
Flynn’s jaw started to tick and his teeth captured his bottom lip again. I knew my words had him stressed.
Professor Channing, the art teacher who had coordinated Flynn’s earlier workshop, had approached him about accepting a part-time teaching position at the school. When I had agreed with the professor, saying it was a good idea, Flynn had gotten almost violently angry. He had thrown things and screamed at me.
And it wasn’t until he calmed down and called Kevin, his therapist in Greensboro, that he was able to say he couldn’t do it. That he hated people staring at him.
“But they think you’re awesome, Flynn!” I had argued. But that didn’t matter. He didn’t want people staring at him all the time. It made him feel anxious.
But that didn’t stop me from delicately pushing the topic whenever I felt it safe to do so. The conversations hadn’t gone too well but he was encouraging me to take some pretty huge leaps of faith in my life. I felt it only right to return the favor.
“Maybe,” Flynn mumbled and I tilted my head, angling my ear closer.
“What was that? Did I just hear a maybe?” I asked, smiling.
Flynn didn’t grin like I would have liked him too. His face remained solemn.
“Yes. I said maybe,” he replied, turning away from me. I wanted to jump up and down and clap my hands with glee. Well if I was the jumping up and down and clapping my hands sort of person.
“I can live with a maybe,” I said, kissing him again before going back to get ready.
Murphy came padding into the bedroom and nudged my hand with his head. I laughed and scratched behind his ears, feeling happy despite my impending hearing. It was unbelievable how a word like maybe could make me ready to take on anything.
“Not now, boy, I’ve got somewhere to be. Maybe Flynn will play catch with you while I’m out,” I said pointedly. Flynn’s head was still hung low but I saw him visibly relax when Murphy decided to turn his attention to his owner. Flynn’s entire face would light up when Murphy was around. The connection between the two was awesome to see.
I finished my hair, opting to tie it back in a low, no nonsense ponytail. Experience had taught me that the judge looked on you more favorably if you were dressed nicely.
I could have cringed when I remembered my behavior the first time I had appeared before a judge when I was sixteen. Julie had brought me a nice pair of pants and a pretty pink blouse but I had refused to wear it.
I had been hurting and angry. I didn’t understand at the time that my guilt had been disguised as rage. I had been belligerent and rude, so it was no wonder the judge had been harsh in doling out my punishment.
It was a good thing I had learned at least one lesson from that horrible situation.
I smoothed down my black trousers, tucking in my sky blue top. It wasn’t a particularly cute outfit. I had picked it up on clearance from JCPennys. But it looked a hell of a lot better than the hoochie shorts and halter top that I had been wearing the first time I had been hauled into court.
“You look pretty, Ellie,” Flynn said.
“Thank you, Flynn,” I responded, turning around to find him rubbing Murphy.
I picked up my crappy, WalMart special purse and slung it over my shoulder. I crossed the room back to where Flynn was standing, looking adorably miserable.
“Stop looking like that, baby. You don’t want to go sit in a stuffy courtroom while a judge scolds me like a two year old,” I reasoned.
Flynn started grinning. His eyes sparkled and I couldn’t understand what brought on this sudden change in mood.
“What?”
Flynn’s eyes met mine timidly. “You called me baby. I liked it.”
Oh.
“Can I touch you?” I asked him.