Just My Type (30 page)
“What happened?”
“I didn’t do it again.”
Angie’s eyes widened. “Didn’t do what?”
Sara shrugged. “Anything without them being involved.”
“Anything?”
“I let them be involved in everything I do.”
Angie just sat looking at her, running her thumb up and down over the edges of the pages of the magazine. Finally she said, “Why?”
“They insist.”
Angie shook her head. “I don’t buy it. You’re smart and sassy enough to not let them get away with that. Unless you like it.”
Sara felt strangely complimented. “It’s not about me liking it.” She waved her hand dismissively.
“You’re not interested in this. I should just shut up.”
“You dragged me this far into this conversation and now I don’t get to hear the rest?” She crossed her arms and sat back. “No way. No computer time until you spill.” Sara smiled. “Okay. It’s not because
I
like it. I involve them in everything because they need that.”
“What… You mean you let them have an opinion about everything for
their
sake?” Sara grinned. “Yeah. It’s so important to them. At first they needed to take care of me just as much as I needed them to. It gave us all an anchor after my dad died. My mom walked out when I was just a baby, so it was always just dad. When he was gone, taking care of me was what kept Jess and Sam grounded, gave them something to
do
, to focus on.”
“How old were you when your dad died?”
“Ten.” Sara took a deep breath and let it out. “He was shot. Interrupting a burglary at Jessica’s apartment.”
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Angie frowned. “My God.”
“It was rough.” Sara truly had been protected from so much. There had to have been financial worries and legal issues for Jessica, and even Sam, to deal with. But Jessica had been there through it all for Sara, acting as a buffer, keeping things as normal as she could. “But after I was pretty much grown up, they still needed to be sure everything was perfect for me, smooth, worry free. It’s what they do.”
“What about now that you’re living here?”
“It’s driving them a little crazy,” Sara said. “But it’s good. It’s…liberating.”
“For you?”
“Yes. And for them. I’m too far away for them to do much for me, they
can’t
see me every day so now they have a chance to pay attention to something else.” She laughed again. “I just realized that’s why I haven’t been more upset about not having a car. Without a car there’s no question of my driving back to see them. There’s no guilt, because there’s no choice. This is just how it is.” Angie shook her head. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“You don’t need manicures or someone to clean your house. You’ve been a princess for them, not because you really are one.”
“I have to clean my own house now?” She pretended to pout. Angie knew good and well that Sara had already been doing that.
“Yep, sorry.” Angie pushed herself up from the chair. “And no more princess treatment around here.” Sara laughed. “The Queen would be appalled if what you’ve been giving me is the royal treatment.” Angie pushed the front door open and stepped through. “Ah, the Queen can bite me.” Sara was still grinning when the door swung shut and Angie disappeared around the corner.
Then she spent the next two hours on the computer researching fibromyalgia.
Sara knew painting the walls in the unfinished building she’d chosen for her massage studio before she’d even started classes—that would take her eighteen months to finish—probably counted as jumping the gun. Still, she saw the rooms, including the colors, she wanted vividly in her mind and once the bank agreed to give her the loan she’d applied for, she’d needed to
buy
something to make it feel real. And paint was the easiest thing. Because it was the only thing she knew she needed for sure and could pick out by herself.
Obviously she needed furniture, flooring, new windows, new doors, a computer, some plants, pens, paper… She didn’t know what she was doing. So she bought paint. A perfect sage green that would look amazing with white wooden trim around the windows and doors and a pale yellow for accent. Cool, peaceful, relaxing.
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She hummed as she spread out the plastic sheets she’d bought at the hardware store. There wasn’t anything specific to cover, but she hadn’t ever painted before and with her luck there was some trick to the whole thing that involved plastic sheets.
She squatted next to the can of paint and started to pry the lid off with the little silver tool the guy had insisted she needed. She also had a stirring stick—which she could figure out—and three brushes in various widths. As she dipped one of the new brushes into the can she felt a little zing of happiness. She was doing this, by herself, without advice or help.
“There you are!”
She whipped around quickly to see her sister coming through the door.
“Jess!” The brush and paint forgotten for the moment, she ran across the floor and grabbed her sister in a big hug.
“Watch the paint!” Jessica said laughing as she pulled back.
And like someone had flipped a switch, suddenly her quiet little someday-shop was filled with her friends and family, noise, laughter and teasing.
Ben, Danika, Sam, Kevin, Dooley and Mac all crowded through the door. Kevin and Dooley were each carrying a cooler, Mac and Sam each had a big cardboard box and Danika had a tote bag over each shoulder.
“What are you all doing here?” she asked, her eyes wet and her throat tight for some reason.
“Mac said we should come see what you were up to,” Danika said, catching Sara in a hug. “Basically he finally gave us permission to come,” she whispered in Sara’s ear.
Sara laughed and found her husband’s eyes. He’d been at work and she’d had plans for his return home, but the look he gave her over Dani’s head was full of promise for when they were finally alone. He knew how much she’d missed her friends and family. That he’d told them to come meant a lot.
“What happened to your hair?” Sam asked, in that annoying-brother tone of voice he’d long ago perfected.
Sara touched the bandana she’d tied around her head. “Nothing.”
“Why are you covering it up?”
“To keep from getting paint in it.”
“Paint?” Sam asked, standing near her can of paint.
She knew she was beaming when she answered, “Yeah, I’m painting.” Sam turned in a full circle, then asked, “Painting what?”
“The shop.” Sara gestured with her arms wide. “My place.” Sam looked at the can of paint and then at the walls and then at her. “Oh.”
“So this is great timing. We’ll help.” Kevin put his load down and started toward her. “With all of us, this will go fast.”
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“No!” She said it more forcefully and louder than she’d intended, but it did result in him stopping halfway across the floor. “I mean, thanks, but I want to do this myself. All by myself.”
“You’ve never painted anything, Sara,” Sam pointed out.
“So?”
He must have seen something on her face that made him realize an argument would be pointless.
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Go for it.”
Dani grabbed his arm. “Um…”
“She’s going to do it by herself,” Sam said to Dani. “Leave her alone.” Danika looked around the shop a little helplessly. “Ooookay.” Sara didn’t care what they were talking about. She didn’t know what she was doing. So what? She didn’t care if she made some mistakes. That never happened. Which to most would sound like a good thing, to her it was…boring. And a little pathetic. And high maintenance.
“Oh my gosh!” Jessica took one of Sara’s hands. “You cut your fingernails!” Everyone stopped talking.
“Let me see that.” Dooley took her other hand. “Holy crap, Sara. I’ve never seen you without those long sparkly nails.”
“They’ll break off while I’m working,” she said. Truthfully, it had been a bit traumatic to take the polish off and cut the beautiful French tips from her nails. Her hands looked like they should belong to someone else. But it had to be done. She was a working woman now.
“And what’s with your shoes?” Ben asked, frowning at her feet.
Sara looked down at her white tennis shoes. “What?”
“Those don’t have a heel on them.”
“And they’re
bright
,” Dooley added.
She shrugged. “I needed shoes to work in. You can’t climb ladders with heels on.”
“So you bought brand-new tennis shoes to wear as your work shoes?” Ben asked. “Why not just wear an old pair?”
She felt like an idiot as she admitted, “I don’t have an old pair.”
“Well, a not-brand-new pair.”
“These are the only tennis shoes I have,” she said, wiggling one foot.
“You don’t own tennis shoes?” Ben asked.
“What would I have tennis shoes for?” she returned.
“Walking, working out…painting.”
Sara just watched him and waited a few seconds. Then he realized what he’d said. “Right. You don’t work out or…paint.”
“You walk,” Dooley pointed out.
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Just My Type
“Well I don’t
walk
,” she said. “I don’t go any distance that can’t be comfortably covered in heels.”
“What about yoga?” Ben asked.
She shrugged. “You go barefoot during yoga.”
“What about on your way
to
yoga?”
“Why would I buy shoes just to wear on my way to yoga? I wear my work clothes—and shoes—since I go straight from the center.”
Sara grinned at Ben’s and Dooley’s amused and disbelieving expressions. Her brother and sister—and Mac—didn’t seem one bit surprised though.
“But now I’m going to paint. And do other manual labor.” Danika grinned. “Can you define manual labor, sweetie?” Sara knew these people loved her, which was the only reason her feelings weren’t hurt. “I’m going to stain wood, nail things, hang things…” It sounded a little stupid even to her.
“Stain wood?” Danika repeated. She looked around. “What wood?” There was no trim around the windows or doors, or baseboards, or…anything.
“The floor. I want to put hardwood floors in.”
“Um, honey, those come already stained. And the guys who put it in for you…” Dani stopped at the look on Sara’s face. “You’re not seriously telling me that you think you’re going to put the floor in by yourself?”
“I’m sure I can learn.” She wasn’t sure at all, but her pride insisted she say it.
“I’m sure you can too, but why?” Dani asked. “I wouldn’t even do a wood floor by myself…even though I
could
.” Danika was a self-taught miss fix-it. She knew how to do
everything
. More than Sam did.
Which was a constant source of amusement for all of them.
“I just…” Sara puffed out a frustrated breath. “I just want to do something by myself for a change.
So—” she squared her shoulders, “—I’m going to paint. You’re all excused.” She figured they were staying for dinner and maybe beyond. But she had her painting clothes on, her can open, her paint stirred and her brush dipped so she was going to paint. Dammit.
“You have one can of paint?” Kevin asked.
Sam nudged him. “Leave her alone.”
“You’re using a
brush
?” Dooley added as she dipped her brush again.
“Shut up,” Sam muttered. “Just let her do it.”
“The windows aren’t even done yet…”
“Dani,” Sam said warningly.
“So we’re not going to tell her she should put the windows in before she paints?”
“Nope.”
Danika sighed. “And we’ll just come back and put the windows in and then help re-paint.”
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“Right.”
“Okay, but this is—” Danika stopped talking mid-sentence but Sara didn’t turn to see how Sam had shut her up.
It was nice Sam was the one listening to her and keeping the others from giving her a hard time. Of course she knew she didn’t know what she was doing in turning this empty, somewhat-run-down building into a cute, comfortable massage business. But they didn’t have to be pointing it out so readily.
Sara crossed to the closest wall and painted one wide sage green stripe down the center of the brown, non-dry-walled wall. The moment she did it, she realized a few things. One, she really did like the color.
Two, the green would be a lot prettier on a finished wall. Three, this was going to take
forever
with one brush. Four, she didn’t want to do this by herself anyway.
She sighed and turned. The conversation behind her hadn’t stopped, it had simply switched focus.
They were all sitting around on the floor or on the coolers, passing around food and drinks and talking about the Oscar Wildcats’ chance of making it to a state playoff in football.
They were eating pizza from Zio’s. Her favorite pizza. The best in the world.
They were also eating cheesecake from Maria’s. Her favorite dessert. The best in the world.
It was not a coincidence.
“Okay, fine. You can help.”
They stopped chewing and talking, and one by one they started to grin. “I thought you’d never ask,” Danika said from her place on the floor leaning against Sam’s left arm. “This place is going to look amazing.”
They started jabbering about the supplies they’d need and everyone’s schedule and when they could get back to Oscar to start.
And just like that Sara was crying.
Mac was, of course, the first to notice. He was on his feet, across the room and had his arms wrapped around her within ten seconds.
“It’s fine. We’re all proud of you. This doesn’t mean you’re lazy or superficial or dumb,” he said into the top of her head.
Sara tried to giggle in the midst of crying and it turned into hiccups. She hiccupped in his arms for a while, just loving the feel and smell of him. Eventually she held her breath, quieted the hiccups and then pulled back.
“I’m crying because I just realized I’m damned lucky to not know the first thing about painting or milking cows or cutting hair. Because I’m lucky to have all of you who have been taking care of me for so long.”
