Page 33 of #Lovestrong
Declan
It's a good thing Lena finally decided to try out for soccer, otherwise my idea for the parking spot would be somewhat stupid. She's sitting on the grass in front of the parking spots with Candice, and for once, her talking to a female doesn't make me nervous. Candice is the best thing to happen to Jackson. They balance each other out. She can have fun with him and his crazy antics, but she calms him down and keeps him focused.
I set the cans of paint and bag of supplies down behind her as I sink to my knees and then wrap my arms around her, kissing the side of her head and then trailing my lips down her neck. I can tell she's ready for some painting though. She's changed into shredded cut-off shorts and a thick-cut tank top. Her hair’s in a high ponytail and, looking around the parking lot, it confirms I'm the luckiest guy around. She's so beautiful.
Candice gets up to start helping Jackson, so I take her spot next to Lena. "You ready to tackle this thing?"
"I'm actually kinda excited. What do you want to do to it?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked, beautiful lady." I reach behind her and pull my sketch out of the supply bag.
"Oh, Declan," she whispers, covering her mouth as she looks over it. "That's . . . thank you."
Uncovering her mouth, she leans over and kisses me. My parking spot is a heart in the center with our graduation year in it. At the top is going to be a football with my name, and diagonally on the other side of the heart is going to be a soccer ball with Lena's name. At the bottom of the spot will be bold letters reading ‘University of Washington Bound’ and ‘#Lovestrong’ underneath it.
She hasn't decided on college and that's okay, but I don't think it's a coincidence that God put this amazing, loving girl in my life and then made it so we both we're accepted to the same college. To me, that's called a sign.
"I got all the paint, chalk to do the outlines, brushes, and some other stuff. You want to do the outline?"
She laughs loudly and my eyes widen. "Declan, there's a reason I don't willingly take art classes. I can't draw a stick figure. You do the outline and I can paint following your guide. I'm great at coloring . . . not so great at anything else."
I can't help but chuckle at her as I get up and grab the white chalk out of the bag. The best part about the Senior parking lot is since they repave it every year, it's smooth, which makes drawing and painting the spots much easier.
About thirty minutes later, I've got a good outline except for our names. I want those to be unique to how each of us writes. "Okay, I get a break and you can start outlining all this in black."
She happily hops up as I flop onto the grass and start opening the paint and getting everything ready for her. She stands at the edge of the spot, admiring Jackson and Candice's parking spot. We kinda match. They're both planning to go to University of Washington too, if Jackson can get in, so they've done the college symbol with their names and the year they started dating plus #Lovestrong with it. It's sweet, and Candice is the only reason Jackson can be a romantic guy.
They're the real deal.
Sitting back and leaning on my hands, I watch Lena paint. She doesn't seem tense in any way, and she gently sways her head to the music coming from Candice's iPhone. It's good to see her happy. It's weird though. I've seen her at some pretty low spots, and watching her work, my eyes wander to the scars on her inner thigh and inner arm. I'm the only one who knows what they're from, and though she hasn't had an episode in weeks, in the back of my head, I'm always ready to be there for the next one.
She has no idea how proud I am that she's getting counseling. Honestly, my mom is a big advocate for mental health, and her insistence in it is part of what my dad used to shape his campaign to get elected to the Senate. Since then, he's pushed for a lot of reform for mental health in our state and continues to lobby for stronger Federal mandates on making mental healthcare more accessible for people.
"Cheese-and-Rice, Lena, what the hell happened to your side?" Jackson's voice seems almost panicked.
I look up and Lena's lifted the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face. Across her left side is a huge scar that runs from the middle of her stomach, just under her breast, horizontally around her side until I can't see the end of it.
"Accident," she says, quickly putting her shirt down.
"Well, damn, girl. Now I'm starting to think you're a total badass on top of being smart and super hot."
She forces a laugh as Jackson goes back to working, but her hands shake terribly as she pulls on the bottom of her shirt. When she does, the strap moves and that's when I notice a scar on her left shoulder. It’s round with jagged, almost ripped-looking edges and the size of a silver dollar.
What in the living hell happened to my girlfriend?
I stand and silently walk around the wet paint to her side. She's staring at the ground, and when I stop in front of her, she leans her head into my chest and sits her hands on either side of my waist. Softly, I rub her side where the scar is and then trail my hands up to her shoulder and do the same to the other scar. "Lena?"
She shakes her head, never straightening to look at me, but her hands still shake against my hips. "I'm not ready to talk about it, Declan. I'm trying to get there, because you deserve to know, but I'm just not ready."
I kiss her hair and then take her head in my hands and tilt it upward so I can lean down to kiss her lips. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be ready to listen."`