I couldn't help but to appreciate Molly's thoughtfulness. I'd never had a girlfriend before and I supposed I still needed practice in that regard, too. I was so thankful that Molly made it easy. She started pulling some strands loose around my face. "There. Perfection. Put on something that makes you feel pretty and meet me downstairs in a half hour."
"I don't know. I'm kind of just wanting to curl up with my laptop tonight. Plus, Carolyn has that big garden party planned for tomorrow. I think that will be enough social practice right there."
"But they're not your peers, they're your mom's friends. It's not the same." She put her hands on her hips. "And curl up with your laptop?" She frowned. "Now that's just sad. And isn't that what you've been doing all day?" She met my eyes in the mirror. "What do you do on there anyway?" She raised a brow.
"Oh, just, you know, trying to catch up. Everything is so different in the outside world."
Molly studied me, a sympathetic look softening her expression. "I can only imagine. You don't have to navigate it alone though, Eden. I can help."
Warmth filled my chest and I smiled at her. "Thank you, Molly." I walked over to my desk and started organizing the papers I'd printed out earlier that day.
"So then," she continued, "I'm not taking no for an answer about tonight. You need to see the desert spring guy. His paintings are full of so much light! And that's only from the brochure."
I turned toward her, smiling a confused smile and creasing my brow. "Desert spring?" Of course, I had never told her, or anyone, about Calder's and my spring. I tilted my head, slightly jarred by the description after we'd just been talking about Calder recently. "What?" I asked.
Molly nodded. "Yeah. He paints these pictures of this perfect spring with towering rocks on all sides of it. It looks like some sort of paradise, or the Garden of Eden, and this girl—just the back of her, over and over, but," she gazed up dreamily, "they're so real, and so romantic. He's truly gifted, I'm telling you."
An artist . . . an artist?
My blood ran cold and everything inside of me surged forward at once. I heard my own voice as if it was coming from outside of myself. "A girl?" I swallowed heavily. "Tell me more," I demanded.
Molly's smile faltered slightly as she tilted her head and studied me.
"What's his name?" I practically shouted, my lips trembling. It couldn't be. No way. It couldn't be. Stop even thinking this, Eden. The thought alone is going to destroy you. There are lots of artists in this world . . . surely more than a few paint springs. But desert springs? And a girl . . .?
"Eden, what's wrong?" Molly asked, a look of concern coming over her face.
I grabbed her upper arms and shook her slightly. "What's his name?" I demanded again.
Molly's frown deepened. "Storm. He calls himself Storm. Just that. A made-up name I'm sure, and it kind of sounds like a stripper," she laughed nervously, "but I wouldn't mind him taking some of his clothes—"
"Where's the brochure?" I asked. "I need to see the brochure."
"Eden—" Molly frowned.
I breathed out, calming myself. "Please, Molly, just show me the brochure."
"I'm sorry, I don't have it here. I looked at Ava's at school, but I didn't take it with me."
My body jerked and I let go of her and took off the robe I'd been wearing all day. I grabbed some jeans lying at the end of my bed and pulled them on. My whole entire body was shaking and I felt like I was at risk of having a seizure of some sort.
I reached into my closet and grabbed the first shirt I laid eyes on, something navy blue, or black. Dark anyway. It took me a couple tries to get my head through the neck hole and I started crying with the overwhelming emotion, paired with the frustration of trying to get dressed. In the background Molly was saying something and when I finally pulled the shirt over my head, her words registered.
"You're scaring me. What's going on? Is it the guy? Storm? I—"
Pulling the shirt over my head had made my hair fall out of the up-do Molly had just done and so I ran my hands through it quickly, all of it tumbling down my back again. I took several deep breaths, but the shaking continued. "I need you to get me down to that gallery," I said shakily. "I need you to drive me there right this minute."
Molly's face was a study of confusion and worry. "Okay, whatever you need. Let's go."
I nodded jerkily and slipped on some flip-flops. It was far too cool outside for flip-flops, but I hardly cared. Don't think. Just don't think until you get there. You might be crazy. If you are, it's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay.