Color Me Your Color

I kept my back to him and tilted my head to the light gray sky. It looked and smelled like snow.

"I'll pay you." His voice was barely audible over the light winter breeze, but I heard him.

Slowly I peeked over my shoulder. He still stared, probing. Searching. For what? Weakness? Love? Hate?

My body turned before I could tell it to stop. "What are you talking about?"

"To stop seeing him. To stop screwing around with Tate."

He hadn't heard. My father was a good liar, but it was turning out that I was, too. And a good liar can spot another one. He didn't flinch as I stalked up to him until we were almost nose to nose.

"What are you talking about?" I repeated through my teeth.

"I'll give you whatever you want. However much you want. You and your mother." His eyes swept back to the kids whirling around carefree on the playground. "Just stop seeing him."

He was begging. Nothing in his tone suggested it, but I knew it.

Something about it unsettled me. Pissed me off. I swallowed hard and searched for

familiar footing. "Why? Sick of being humiliated? Are they teasing you at work, Dad?"

Dad's eyes came back to mine and narrowed. "No. No one knows, thank God. But that's a different story. I'm trying to do something nice for you. Can't you understand that?"

"Something nice for me," I said flatly. "Offering me money so I stop fucking your coworker?"

He flinched, finally. The F-word did it. "Please, don't be like this."

"Like what?"

He sighed and looked up at the sky. "Your mother is beside herself with worry for you. She can't understand how you got into this situation. Neither can I, especially with Tate."

"I don't need or want anything from you. And I'm not seeing Tate anymore, either, so you don't need to worry about looking like a fool at work. Happy?"

Dad squinted at me. "Happy? No. I probably will never be happy again, and I recognize I deserve it. My children hate me."

"I wish I could say I was sorry."

"I understand."

I fidgeted on my feet, wishing I could comfort him, which was a new one for me. I wish it didn't have to be like that, but our relationship, in my opinion, was broken. I couldn't imagine trying to fix it.

"I have to go."

Dad nodded. "I know."

I had the strange sensation that it might be the last time I'd see him, and a weird impulse came over me. I hugged him hard and whispered that I didn't hate him.

"I want to, though."

"I know," he said again.

He watched me walk to the street and hail a cab. When I turned around before getting inside the car, he was gone.

*****

A month later, I sat in my favorite Starbucks and fiddled with my new camera. I had taken a series of shots of Iggy and my mother that afternoon and wanted to get them uploaded to my laptop. Mom and I had made up, but Dad and I still weren't talking. I felt like we probably never would again, and that was okay. I was in the zone, so I didn't notice I was being stared at, nor did I notice the big, imposing figure standing above me until it was too late to flee.

"Hi," a familiar voice said. I looked up. Tate looked as delicious as always, if a little thinner. He had circles under his eyes, too, which was unusual. He was staring at me so intently that I didn't reply for what was probably a good minute or two.

"Hi."

"May I sit down?"

I could only nod. I watched him closely as he sipped his drink. Then he smiled. "My name is Tate. I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but I think you're beautiful and I wanted to introduce myself. What's your name?"

I laughed until I realized he was waiting for me to answer. "Johanna. Nice to meet you."

Tate took my hand and caressed my palm with his thumb. "Pleasure meeting you, Johanna. You know, you remind me of someone I knew once."

"Oh, yeah?"

He nodded. "I kind of messed up things with her."

"Shameful."

"It was." He played with my fingers and met my eyes.

"Maybe you can start over."

He smiled, and he was beautiful. I wanted to hold him to me, to thank him for coming back to me, to do anything that would allow me to touch him, but I could sense he didn't want that. Not yet. So, I humored him. I kept my other hand to myself.

"That's what I'm doing. Think I'll have any luck?"

I smiled. "Ever see Pretty Woman?"

He laughed harder than I ever heard him laugh. Then he took my other hand. "I think so, a long time ago. Why don't you tell me how it ends?"