You Are Here

I attempted to spend all of my time as far away from Keegan as possible, but I had again been delegated as his trainer. He was older than me by three years and it felt beyond silly teaching him how to turn on the washing machine. I walked to the back shed and he was on my heels, he hadn't spoken a word to me since becoming an employee. The silence was almost becoming more annoying than his rude words. I pried open the seldom used doors to the shed that contained the lawn mower and all other large tools that Lance had left behind. I walked into the musty dark to find the light switch and stubbed my toe against something big and bulky. "Jesus fuck."

"You should've worn shoes."

"Fuck you." The pain in my foot had subsided but a new fury boiled beneath my skin. The smug look on his face dared me to lay into him.

"Oliver!" My father shouted over me, my rage quickly fizzled, replaced by an embarrassed flush. "Don't swear." I am 19 and being scolded by my father for using foul language. My hands balled into fists and my knuckles turned white. It was enough for Keegan to have to follow me around, silently judging, it was another for him to watch as I was reprimanded. My father held a paint scraper out in front of me, "I need you to get rid of all the chipping paint from the porch railings and swing, Peaches. Needs a fresh coat of paint for the summer season." He smiled at me in stark contrast to his military voice.

"Why can't Keegan do it? He is the grounds keeper." I could hear the annoyance in my voice and I knew I was being childish. I didn't want to scrape paint, I wanted to read about Chile and Argentina, I wanted to visit Chile and Argentina.

"He can't do it because I'm telling you to. Keegan has a different task." I stuck my hand out and he dropped the paint scraper into my calloused fingers. I walked off through the lawn towards the porch. I could hear my father telling Keegan that he needed to pull the weeds from the flower beds around the porch.

I stood on the front steps of the porch and faced my challenge. I could feel my knuckles turn white from how fiercely I gripped the paint scraper. I had been valedictorian of my class, with numerous honors and opportunities and I was about to scrape all of the paint off of a porch that would see no use. Valedictorians did not scrape paint. Valedictorians went to ivy league schools with tremendous scholarships and they studied abroad.

I began on the side of the railings that face the street, digging the edge of the scraper just beneath the paint and shoving upwards. The long worn paint curled up away from the blade and fell to the ground. I felt less upset after a few minutes, this was a useless task that didn't require focus. I let my mind wander to the rice paddies in Nepal. The lovely women ankle deep in cool water holding baskets of rice for their families.

"Having fun, peaches?" I glanced at Keegan, he wore the smirk I expected. I hated that smirk more than I hated the sound of his voice. It followed me when I would drop a book or struggled to open the lock to a room. I gritted my teeth and returned back to scraping paint.

He stood up from the dead flowers and leaned against the railings I was about to start cleaning. "No, I'm not having fun. Thanks for the concern." I reached behind him to scrape at the railing his back was covering. "Can't you move and do anything else?" The exasperation in my voice only reflected a portion of the exasperation I felt.

He shifted a little so I had a better angle to work with but this put my shoulder almost into the center of his chest. He leaned in close to my face and I could smell the soap he used paired with the sweat that hung on his skin. "It's hot out Peaches and it'd be real nice if you could get me a glass of lemonade."

"You've got legs."

"Yeah I suppose," He pulled a cigarette from his pocked and stuck it between his lips. "But yours look better." He cupped his hand around the edge of the cigarette, his knuckles grazing the side of my face as he did so. My face flushed and he smirked at my loss of words.

"Get bent." My voice wavered and he moved in closer letting my side press up against his chest.

"What was that, Peaches?"

"Get fucking bent!" I shouted this time, my voice firm. "Jesus, just leave me the fuck alone."

He pulled away from me, rolling his eyes, "No need to be a bitch about it."

"I am not a bitch!" I tried to focus on my chore, but black spots of blind rage were filling my vision, tears welled up behind my eyes and I blinked to hold them both back.

"Yes you are. You're a bitter bitch who's been stranded here all her life. You're not going anywhere and you stay pissed about that." His words hurt, cutting deep at my chest.

"Just stop!" I turned to face him, ignoring what my hands were doing.

"Stop what?" As he mocked me I could feel the dirty metal bounce off of the wood. I could feel the paint scraper fly away from the surface and into my free palm. I could feel it cut through my skin and I could feel every drop of blood that rushed out of my hand and down my arm. The pain was instant and I was curled on the ground clutching my wrist. My entire body was shaking with rage and embarrassment. The searing pain in my hand only served to emphasize Keegan's words. I was going to be stuck here and I was angry about it, angry with him and my parents and everyone else whose future wasn't predetermined by some wretched Inn.

"Oliver," Keegan was pressing a ripped piece of cloth into my hand. I had already let the tears spill from my eyes as I willed myself to look at him. He didn't look angry or cruel, he looked real, like a child who finally understood the depth of their actions. The bottom of his shirt was torn and I didn't want to be so angry with him. He wiped the tears from my cheeks, "You are so fucking dumb."

I pulled my hand from his and stood up. I walked away, leaving him kneeling in the dirt. "Fuck off." I didn't mean it. Not even a little.