“Yes, naked… Clearly, you don’t need me to be here for a head shot.”

He looked from my shoulder to the canvas and back again. “I don’t need you here while I paint.”

I smiled. “Okay, shall I just model for you now then?” I reached as if to pull my shirt up again—mostly because I wanted to rile him up a bit, but also because I couldn’t get over my sheer awe of his talent. He oozed with it, and I was confused and a little at a loss for how to act.

His brows rose in alarm. “Don’t take your shirt off again. I just got things under control,” he said with a glance at his crotch.

“I’m sorry…I’m just being goofy because I’m uncomfortable.” I sighed, dropping my arms to my sides. “You know, it’s really not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“That you’re handsome, smart and mega-talented. I have no idea why you seem to be of the opinion that you need to prove your worthiness to anyone.”

His eyes lowered, that same troubled look clouding his features. Would he finally talk about it or would he be tight-lipped again? And what did it all have to do with his mom and Disneyland?

I figured this was as good a time as any to spring it on him. “I have an idea…we should go to Disneyland to have fun while working on your crowds issue.”

He stiffened, big hands curling into fists at his sides. “I’m not going to Disneyland.”

“Hey, if you want me to help you, you’ve got to be open to my suggestions. We don’t have to go anywhere near Adventureland or the Jungle Cruise, okay? To be honest, it would be no big loss for me. They tell dorky jokes, and I really don’t need to see the ‘back side of water’ for the zillionth time.” When he didn’t say anything, I pressed it further. “Come on, Wil. It’s the happiest place on earth. You can go with me there, can’t you? We’ll just go for a few hours.”

He took a deep breath, then let it go.

“If you don’t say ‘yes,’ I’m whipping my top off again.”

He held his hand out. “Okay, okay. Yes. I’ll go.”

“Damn,” I harrumphed. “I kind of wanted you to touch them again.”

This time he rewarded me with a deep color on his face. “You like teasing me too much.”

I laughed. “Well, you’re going to have to learn to tease me back.”

His stern expression dissolved into a soft smile that made my stomach flip. “When will we go?”

“I’d say next weekend, but I have to work all day on Saturday. A weekday would be better—and definitely less crowded—but you have to work.”

“I can take a day of leave,” he said. “They wouldn’t say anything because I never take a day off. We can go on Wednesday.”

“So we’d be disrupting your regular schedule and working on crowds. Two birds with one stone. I like that.” Once again his face clouded, so I continued on. “I have to work in the morning at the Refugee Support Center. The group therapy session ends at ten. If you come to get me early, you could sit in, if you want.”

He looked like he was about to say no, so I scooted up to him and—very slowly, so he knew what I was doing—put my arms around his neck. Then I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Please?”

He heaved a great sigh. “I’ll be there. Just give me the address.”

A little while later, he took me home, and after having spent practically the entire weekend with him, it almost felt like I had a William-shaped hole in my life. I was amazed and a little frightened at how much I really was looking forward to next Wednesday.

 

 

Chapter 16

William

As Jenna asked, I’ve arrived at the Refugee Support Center early. When I give my name at the front desk and tell them why I’m there, they are expecting me. Ann, her friend who I already know from the RMRA, comes out to escort me back.

“She’s busy right now. Things got a bit emotional this morning, so while I think she originally wanted you to sit in on the circle, it probably wouldn’t be best right now.”

I have to admit that I’m relieved. I’ve been in a few group counseling sessions when I was a teenager and they did not go well.

When I enter through the door, I’m in a large room set up like a classroom with desks and chairs. There are computers along the wall, as well as groupings of couches and comfortable chairs near bookcases loaded with novels and nonfiction titles. In the back corner is a ring of seats with six people talking quietly.

Nearby, just opposite the support circle, Jenna stands beside a young woman, her head bent. They are talking quietly, and the other girl—a teenager, I think—is dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Ann appears at my shoulder, speaking quietly. “Anchali is having some anxiety from some bad memories that were brought up in the session. Jenna is talking her down. It will be a little while.”

I watch Jenna as she comforts the young lady, touching her on the arm much the way she does with me. I realize these things that I appreciate are things she shares with others, too. And while that might make me feel less special, it doesn’t.

Jenna likes to help others. She’s open-minded and sees things from different perspectives. Yet just last weekend, she told me that she wished she could see the world as I do. That thought elicits a warm feeling in the center of my chest.

As I watch her now, I can see that she likes to help people. And it can’t be easy helping people here, in a refugee center, when she still has such awful memories of the war she lived through. But she listens to others tell their stories and helps them however she can.

Just like she’s helping me. And though I know that it’s in her best interest, I’d like to think that she’d help me anyway, without her tiara on the line.

Ann is speaking to me now. “Can you help me with Raul? Jenna asked him to make a sign, but I need to get the classroom ready for our next session.” She points to a young man with black hair and bronze skin sitting at an art desk.

I’m wary of approaching a stranger so I walk slowly, trying to formulate what to say. What kind of help does he need? He appears to be drawing something. As I get closer, he glances up at me and then looks away.

“Hello. I’m William Drake. Do you need any assistance?”