Credence

I take a breath and continue, glossing up the trim of the c

hest as Kaleb walks to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. I knew it was him, because Jake and Noah would’ve said ‘good morning’.

He stands at the counter, and even though I’m tempted to look up to see if he’s watching me, I don’t. I switch out pencils, my hand hovering over the choices before I finally pick up the violet and light blue ones. Keeping my head nestled on my arm, I shade the left tip of the chest, working diagonally before switching to the blue to continue the design.

He comes over, standing behind me again.

What, Kaleb?

I dig in my brows, my body tense and bracing myself for whatever mean shit he’ll do now, but after a moment, I decide to ignore him.

I continue shading in some blue.

Unfortunately, the same thing happens, and I pause. I want the colors to blend, but the change from lavender to blue is too abrupt. I scribble harder, changing directions, trying to make the colors melt into each other, but he’s standing behind me, and I can’t concentrate. I lift my head, struggling to make it work as I switch from shading in lines to shading in circles.

Still, though…the transition is too sharp. I reach up to tear the sheet off and throw it away.

But his hand comes down on top of mine, stopping me. I’m about to throw him off, but he gently pulls the pencil out of my hand, sets his coffee down, and plants his other hand on the table, leaning over me. I watch as he holds the pencil between his fingers, pinching it all the way down at the tip, and shades in a circular motion along my line and then uses his thumb to rub the colors together, blending it just how I wanted.

He continues, the wind howling outside as a curtain of snow falls beyond the windows, and my shoulders relax a little as he picks up the violet again, bringing streams and drops into the blue, almost like a…

Like a watercolor. I want to smile. It’s exactly what I was seeing in my head.

I pick up the green pencil and start on the final section, shading in circles like he does. He follows, blending in his blue with my sea green, and our hands brush as we rub the colors with our fingers.

Does he draw a lot? I move my head, wanting to look up at him, but I catch myself in time.

I finish the legs and add some fancy handles to the drawers, only faltering for a moment when I see him uncrumple some of my previous drawings. He lays one down on the table, smoothing it out and hands it to me.

I swallow. It’s the teal and black design.

“I liked that one,” I murmur.

But it looks too…I don’t know…Beetlejuice? I thought it was childish.

I stare at the amateur sketch and pick up my pencil and ruler, adding more stripes to the drawers.

“I used to do so many drawings when I was little,” I tell him. “My house with trees and a rainbow. I’d put it on the refrigerator for my parents to see. Display it really pretty and nice and high, so they’d notice it when they got home.”

His hand remains planted on the table at my side, and I pick up the black pencil, shading stripes.

“I was so excited by how dreamy the picture was,” I go on. “There was so much color, I just wanted to jump into it like it was one of the chalk drawings in Mary Poppins.” I laugh a little. “Kind of precious and magical.”

I switch out the pencil, picking up a teal one as a lump forms in my throat.

All I can manage is a whisper. “Hours later, I’d find them hidden in the trash.” I flex my jaw as needles prick my throat. “They didn’t go with the décor.”

Tears rise up from my chest. I’d forgotten about that. But now—years later—it hurts more than ever. Couldn’t they have kept it up for a day? Was it impossible to say one nice thing?

I want to break, to let it go, but he catches me just in time. Suddenly, I feel him. His lips in my hair as he leans over me.

I close my eyes and stop breathing as the silent house surrounds us. He holds me. Barely touching me, he holds me.

Chills spread down my arms as his mouth grazes my hair. He inhales, like he’s drawing in my scent, and I pause in my work as he reaches around and cups my face.

His nose trails down my temple, his hot breath heavy on my cheek.

Like he’s struggling.