The Quiet of Compazine

“What are you painting?” He asked curiously as he leaned over my paper, casting a shadow over it as well. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon, a good three weeks after homecoming, and my life had gone back to normal…with a few minor changes, of course.

I didn’t even glance up to look at him. I needed to focus. “A painting.”

John sat down next to me. “Something abstract?”

“I don’t know yet,” I muttered, sprinkling salt onto the paper before setting it aside. “What are you doing here today?” I asked with a quiet sigh. None of this felt real – the way John spent time with me, stole kisses when he thought no one was looking, pampered me every chance he got…

“You’re always busy with school or work or whatever and you never let me take you out on proper dates,” John whined, playfully nipping at my ear. “So, fine. I’m taking the date to you.”

“What?” John took my hand and dragged me over to the tree on our yard, where he had spread out a blanket and a picnic basket was waiting for us. “John,” I practically whimpered his name, instinctively biting my nails at how cute he was being.

On Sundays, I didn’t have work, so I caught up on school work and relaxed. Right now, I was doing both – sitting out on the driveway painting a watercolor assignment for art class was both relaxing and schoolwork.

John tried to drop by as often as possible, mostly at work and occasionally school, but I didn’t like it when he dropped by the house. It made me nervous. Dad wouldn’t take kindly to boys I dated…I think. I didn’t really have any past relationships to go on.

“Sit down, would you?” he laughed almost nervously, opening up the picnic basket. He handed me a mucho mango Arizona and a bag of Cheetos – my favorites, he knew – before pulling out the most adorable sandwiches I’d ever seen. “I don’t really know how to cook, so, uh…”

“Is that Goldfish bread?” I asked incredulously, taking the sandwich from him.

“Yeah…It’s just ham and cheese…”

“John, all food is good food,” I assured him, although I did take the cheese out of my sandwiches. I could only eat cheese in grilled cheese and on burgers. In other words, the cheese had to be melted. John took my cheese and just put it in his sandwich, too, though. “How can you eat that? It’s like seventy five percent cheese…”

“What’s wrong with it?” John looked so offended I almost choked on my sandwich. “You like ham…”

“Nothing’s wrong with it, John, forget I said anything,” I said as I patted his knee with the hand that wasn’t dusted with Cheeto cheese. We talked about stuff in-between bites of food and when we were done I tried to get back to painting, but John wouldn’t let me.

“No, come cuddle,” John demanded, hugging me and pulling me with him until we were both laying down. “Why do I feel like you’re always afraid just to touch me? I’m not the stereotypical lead singer of a band, you know. You’re the only girl for me, Porter,” John promised, winding our fingers together.

I laughed and kissed John’s bare bicep. “I know. I'm not afraid…of you, at least.”

“What are you afraid of, Porter?”

I swallowed hard and stared up at the sky through the branches and leaves of the tree. The sky was a heavenly shade of blue and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Do you remember when you came to my car and read me your favorite Sylvia Plath poem?” I could see John nod in my peripheral vision. “That day… you called me your favorite girl. You have no idea how mad that made me.”

“Why would that make you mad? You’re my favorite!”

“Yeah, but favorite doesn’t always mean only.”

“…Oh,” John said after a few minutes. I had to roll my eyes and laugh at that. “Well…you never answered my question, Porter.” Shit, I was kind of hoping he’d forgotten. “What is it, Porter? What are you afraid of?” I felt him encouragingly stroking my knuckles with his thumb.

I had to think hard about that. There were so many things I was afraid of – spiders, clowns, the future and whatever it holds…but compared to this, all other things paled in significance. “The…The complacency, I think,” I said aloud after much thought.

“Complacency?” John repeated, obviously confused. “Elaborate, please.”

“Well, I mean –“ My phone alarm went off and I instantly sat up. When I looked at it, I swore. I had fifteen minutes to get to Dr. Coleman’s office. “John, the picnic was so sweet, but I’ve got an appointment, so…” I trailed off, scrambling to clean up all my art materials.

John balled everything up in the blanket and tossed it into his trunk. “Let me take you there.”

I absolutely panicked when he offered. “No, I can drive.”

“Porter, get in my car,” John laughed, already holding my door open for me. I reluctantly got in. John would think I’m a freak, I knew it. He wouldn’t want a mental freak for a girlfriend. I hated this. So many bad things had happened to me, but John wasn’t one of them. I guess I’m just not allowed to have nice things. “Where am I taking you, girl?” he asked, handing me his GPS.

I programmed in the address and John definitely speeded us there. I trusted his driving. He drove so well. He just drove so fast, too. It didn’t feel like it, though. He was hesitant to pull into the parking lot, though, that much was obvious. He read the sign and confusion hit his face. “Porter, are we in the right place?”

“Yes,” I sighed, unbuckling and self consciously adjusting my hair. John opened his mouth to ask more questions, but I leaned over the console and kissed him hard. “One hour, and I’m done. Ok, John?”

“O-Ok,” he stuttered, shocked that I had initiated a kiss. I took advantage of his shock to get out of the car and speed walk to Dr. Coleman’s office.

“Sorry I’m late,” I muttered more out of courtesy than actual remorse as I signed in and walked with her to her office.

“May I inquire as to why you are late, Porter?”

I flopped onto the hard black leather couch, kind of grateful for the chance to rest for once. “I was just busy today and I lost track of time,” I informed her, trying to be as vague as possible.

“I’m sure the young man on the black car has nothing to do with your tardiness,” Dr. Coleman practically teased, chuckling at something she saw out her window. Sure enough, John was sitting on the trunk of his car, sipping on an Arizona Green Tea and nodding along to whatever song was playing on his iPod.

I just looked down at my paint stained hands, trying not to look at John too hard because that usually resulted in swooning and longing sighs. “No, John drove me here pretty fast, actually.”

“Oh, so this is the young, but older man that you claimed to be in 'like' with some time ago, yes?” Dr. Coleman asked, pen at the ready, obviously interested now.

I quietly groaned as I covered my face, feeling a blush already rising in my cheeks.

I just wanted to get the fuck out.