Escaping Parker - F.T. Zele Page 0,53

and don’t have a college diploma to show for the schooling I did, it’s going to be something way out of leftfield. I could try and find a job in the city, but leaving the comfort of my tiny house rattles my nerves.

“I got the gate fixed and installed a motion detector with a floodlight to make sure if anything or anybody comes on your property, you’ll be the first to know,” Rig says as he comes in the door.

“Do you really think that’s necessary? I mean, it’s a pretty small town, and like you said, there hasn’t been anything going with Steven that makes you think he even cares to find me any longer,” I say, cleaning the walls getting them ready for a new coat of paint.

“Yep, I think it’s best. Plus, you are in the country now. What if you got a job where you had to work late and came home when it’s dark out? You’d want to know nothing is around while getting out of your car, right?”

I nod, because I know it makes him feel better that I’m taking the steps to keep safe once I’m on my own.

Since being here, things have really calmed down in my head as reality kicks in. I’ve had to remind myself that nothing is guaranteed, and my wishy washy attitude with Rig isn’t something of which I’m proud. I pushed for this with him, and the second he gave me what I wanted, I pushed him away. I was wrong. Since I have put all that stuff out of my head, we’ve been able to enjoy things together again.

Rig still hasn’t opened up to me, and I know he’s hiding something, like I am, so I don’t push. I hope that in time he’ll tell me what happened for him to think he is so unworthy of being cared for, or loved.

“So I was going to use some of this paint I found out in the garage to put on the walls, try to liven it up a bit in here.” I point to the cans lined in the hallway.

“Yeah, it might be old, though. Who knows how long it has been in the garage. Let me see it.” He walks over and opens it up with an old screwdriver. Shaking it up and stirring it with a small piece of wood, he examines the paint.

“I don’t think this is going to work. It’s really thick and seems pretty old. How about we go grab some new paint, choose something you like? I don’t think you’ll really like this shade of green, either.” He tilts the can to me so I can see inside.

I wrinkle my nose at the mossy color. “I don’t think it’s something really to spend money on, though. I guess I can wait till I get a job and do it the right way.”

“Stop! I want you to feel comfortable here. If new paint is going to help make this transition easy, then new paint it is. Let’s go to the hardware store,” he says, grabbing his keys off the counter.

“If you say so. Let’s go.” I slip on my shoes.

A small mom and pop hardware store sits on the edge of town. I search the paint section for swatches, imagining what might look good.

“I have to grab some things while I’m here. Figure out what color you like and have them mix it up for you.” Rig walks down the aisle.

I eventually come up with this nice teal color, something bright and inviting at the same time, with a pale yellow to go with it. I bring the swatches to a teenager behind the counter. He helps me gather the rest of the supplies.

“Hi, can I help you?” a teenage working the counter asks.

“Yes, I’d like these two colors, please.”

“Sure, how many cans do you need each?” he asks, and I have no clue. I didn’t measure, or even know how far a can would go.

“Um, I think one can of each will do, and two flat white cans also,” I say, hoping it will be enough.

“Ok, let me go get those for you. Do you have brushes or rollers?”

“No, I’ll go pick those out now. Thanks.” I go back to the paint section to grab a couple things I will need.

I bump into Rig, his arms full of items. “I need brushes and rollers. I forgot about those things. Let me help you,” I say trying to grab things from his