The Color Project by Sierra Abrams

Author:Sierra Abrams [Abrams, Sierra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Published: 2017-08-17T05:00:00+00:00

Later I find Levi in his room, putting clothes neatly into his dresser. His door is wide open, so I let myself in and sit on his bed.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks. It’s like he senses me, because I haven’t made a sound.

“Hell, no.”

“You have to talk about it eventually.”

“Eventually doesn’t mean today.” I pat the bed beside me until he joins me. He tucks his arms around my middle and lays us backward, his nose pressed to my shoulder. My eyes are level with his wild hair, but I can hardly see it through my tears. So instead I thread my fingers into it, my lips on his forehead, waiting as teardrops silently drip onto his skin.

He only squeezes me tighter.

“He wants you around the house more,” I eventually say, sniffling wetly.

“That’s…possibly the best thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Why?”

“It means your dad likes me more than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I’m the one who had a shitty dad all my life—what was I supposed to expect?”

I shake my head, lips rubbing gently back and forth across his hairline. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to expect from all this stuff, either.”

“What…stuff?”

“Dating.”

He puffs a breath onto my shoulder, leaving chills to crawl their way up and down my spine. It feels altogether too pleasant. (I don’t have the emotional capacity to think about that.)

“Well,” he says, quietly. “I can stop by once a day if that will make him happy.”

“I’m sure he’ll be way too happy for his own good.” (I say it as an act of rebellion; I know there’s no such thing as too happy for someone who’s dying like my father is dying.) “But are you sure you can fit it in?”

“Bee,” he says, in that gentle tone reserved for me. “Of course.”

“Well, do what you can. He’ll be happy either way.”

My ears are hit with a sudden wave of “Forever Your Girl” by Paula Abdul. We sit listening, silent, for a whole minute before we burst into laughter. Levi rolls onto his back so we’re both looking up at the ceiling, our legs dangling off the edge. Once again, his feet touch the ground. Once again, mine do not.

“You’d better not be laughing at me,” Suzie says, entering the room. Her hands are covered in flour.

“Oh,” Levi says, laughing harder. “Not at all.”

“Levi Brenton.” She says it with such severity that we both stop and lift our heads to look at her. Then she grins. “No more tears tonight, Bee. Let me teach you my ways, with the help of a personal favorite.”

I smile. “I’ll be right in there. Thanks, Suzie.”

She leaves us alone, dancing off to the beat of her music. Levi stands up, hands anxiously adjusting his plain gray tee by pulling on the hem. I totally notice the gray accentuating his form, how lean he is, how nicely toned his arms are, and I want to pull him back to me.

I stand instead. “Hey, Levi?” I ask, tentatively.

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