I do know, actually. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel this way—so happy, glowing, lighter than air. Maybe everything is finally turning around. Maybe things are only going to get better from here on out. I mean, I have people now—Sam and Asha and Lou and Dex, and Andy, too, maybe. I have the diner. I have a life. A different one than before, but maybe this one is better, because it’s totally and completely mine.
And the art project, due tomorrow, has turned out kickass, too. I’m pretty proud of the result. Charles Schulz would be giving us some major props, for sure.
“Hey, didn’t they teach you in kindergarten how to stay inside the lines?” Sam teases when I accidentally get a little red outside of Snoopy’s doghouse.
I respond by sweeping my paintbrush over the bridge of his nose so it leaves a smear of red.
“Oh, no you didn’t,” he says with a mock gasp, and retaliates by painting my cheek yellow. I scream and roll away, shrieking with laughter, and when I see Sam laughing, too, all I can think is that it would be so, so easy to tell him everything on my mind.
I can’t believe someone as good as you exists. I can’t believe you even want to be around me. I can’t believe how lucky I am when just weeks ago I thought my life was over.
The words are bubbling up in my chest, I swear I can feel them, ready to spill over, but then…they don’t. And the moment is over.
Sam doesn’t notice, of course. He wipes his palms on his jeans and offers a hand to help me sit up.
“You look ridiculous,” he says, his thumb brushing the splotch of yellow he streaked under one of my eyes.
I could tell him everything, but I don’t. And I don’t know why. What is my vow accomplishing anymore? Why can’t I just speak, say what I’m dying to say?
I don’t know what I’m waiting for.
* * *
“I’m telling you. Purple. It’s the way to go.”
“If you paint this place purple, I’m quitting. Swear to freakin’ God.”