Page 40 of Colors and Curves

“Daisy mentioned that she doesn’t drink alcohol, and you just said you don’t keep any in the house. Is she a recovering alcoholic?” She munches on her slice.

Once my mouth is empty, I answer, “Sky, we’re all fighting our own demons. Sadly, alcoholism was her way of fighting hers. I don’t think she’d mind you knowing. She’s well on her way to becoming a mentor soon. I’m really proud of how far she’s come.”

“Was she your agent at the time?” she asks, licking the tips of her fingers.

“It was right at the beginning. We weren’t too involved yet. She hid her addiction well, but then things started to fall through—she’d forget things, come home late at night plastered. I didn’t think much of it because I thought that’s what young people do. But one morning, I found her downing vodka straight from the bottle and following it up with some orange juice.”Just like my father.“That’s when I knew.”

She shakes her head. “That must’ve been horrible.”

“I’m not going to lie, Sky. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life that I wish I could unsee. But that? Yeah. She resisted for a while, but I finally got her into a good rehab. She’s been sober ever since. I’m proud of her. But her story is for her to tell you, not me.”

“She has a lot of butterfly tattoos. Is it because your mom likes them?”

“Likedthem.” Suddenly, I’m not hungry and I push my dish away from me. I pick up my napkin and twist it while I talk. “She died when we were teenagers.”

“Oh, Julius. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know. Just trying to be open.” She cocks an eyebrow, and I wink at her.

“Okay,” she says. “Let me change the subject. How about your color blindness? Why don’t you want anyone to know? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Well, it is when your whole childhood is spent hearing what a worthless freak you are. That you’ll never make anything of yourself. I heard it every day from my drunk father until I was sixteen. When you hear it on repeat, you start to believe it. The kids in school bullied me relentlessly because of the sunglasses I had to wear and for other things. I know it’s ridiculous now, but I just don’t want people to know. I don’t want sympathy, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m using it to gain attention for my photographs.”

“Look what you’ve accomplished. You could be an inspiration to others. Give others the hope and encouragement they desperately need to accomplish their dreams.”

“I know what you mean, but what happened in my past should stay in the past. It’s just like an author who uses a pen name—most of them don’t want to be known either. They hide behind their aliases.” I look down to find a pile of shredded napkins in front of me.

She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “How did you get through school? Didn’t your teachers notice when you had to deal with colors or in art class or anything?”

“Oh, they knew. They gave me different assignments when necessary, but with a lot of help from them, I was able to attend school like anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard as hell. College was more difficult. Someone who’s color-blind probably shouldn’t be in an arts program, but my experience, never-ending hard work, and will to never give up, got me through it. I’m still in contact with some of the college professors I had. They’ve contributed to my success. I was very fortunate. They gave me back the sense of self-worth my father worked so hard to destroy.”

That’s enough.I’ve said too much already.

“Wow, that’s great you still talk to them.”

“Yeah.” I gather the napkin shreds into a ball and toss them on my plate. “It’s annoying that I need help when shopping for clothes or anything colorful in general. Daisy always comes with me. I’ll never be able to drive a car. It’s not so bad in New York City, though. I don’t need a car here.”

“Are you from New York?”

“No. We grew up in Delaware. We moved here when Daisy was fourteen and I was sixteen.” I’m being stupid. These are wide open answers that I know will initiate a lot of questions. I fiddle with the boxes on the island. “Are you finished with your pizza?” Chance sits near us and wags his tail. He’s waiting patiently for some crusts to munch on.

“No.” She puts out her hand to keep me from picking up the leftovers. “I’m still hungry. Something gave me a big appetite. Do you know what it was?” She bats her eyelashes.

And just like that, the mood switches to something happier. I’ve never told another person as much as I’ve already told her. What I like is that I didn’t see pity all over her face. She just listened.

“Come here for a second,” Skylar says with her signature smile. I walk over to her, hoping she won’t ask any more questions. When I’m close enough, she grabs my shirt, pulls me close, and wraps her legs around me. “I can see it’s not easy for you to open up. I told you before—everything you tell me will stay with me.”

I lean over and kiss her lightly. “Thanks for not pushing.”

“I want to see the smile you had when we walked through the door or when we christened that rug.” She massages my face. “No more clenching of your jaw tonight unless it’s because I’ve rocked your world again.”

I chuckle. “I couldn’t resist you even if I tried. You wouldn’t be here if I could. Now finish your pizza.”

I’m in the mood for dessert.

Chapter 21

Skylar

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