Chapter 2B: Attempting amends

I'd never actually been inside A Woman's World before, but it was a clothing store. Obviously, for women. Walking in, it smelled like the lilac-scented candles that my mom liked to burn at home and clothing racks were spread over pink carpeting throughout the wide main floor. The cash registers were towards the back of the store, and that's where I'd found Milo talking to the woman named Brenda, who was wearing a blue two-piece suit over her full-figure curves and a matching barrette in her big blonde hair. She owned the store, and seemed to be under the impression that we were there volunteering to help her sort through the shop's storage because she'd be donating to an upcoming Heywell charity drive.

The storage, was actually a basement that had plenty of water damage. I guessed that the place had been flooded a few times, given its location on lower terrain. But the boxes we were supposed to go through had been on the many shelves throughout the room, which was about the size of my living room. We were supposed to sort everything there by size and bottom, top, or dress. But first, Brenda explained, anything too wrinkled from being in boxes needed to be ironed, and as I started sorting, she showed Milo to the ironing board. He didn't complain about his task, but I got more dirty looks when practically everything I found in the boxes needed to be ironed. Milo wasn't very sociable. I tried to talk to him again a few times, pointing out funny-looking clothes, or asking what he usually did on Saturdays. I was adamantly ignored. I was getting bored, too, feeling alone and isolated because he didn't feel like talking to me. Hell, he didn't even buy my attempt to make him laugh by putting on hot pink dress with yellow polka dots. Far be it for me to be a pessimist, but I was beginning to think that Milo Trust didn't like me.

I got so bored with being trapped in a room with someone who wouldn't talk to me, I found myself flirting with Brenda when she came to check on us, just so she'd stick around longer. This earned me no extra points with Milo, though. In fact, I think he was rather disgusted with me after that. By the time Brenda insisted that we go get something to eat at little taco shop across from her store, I'd completely given up on trying to talk to Milo. He left straight for the restaurant while I followed two minutes later after calling my uncle to make sure we were allowed to take a lunch break. He told me we had thirty minutes.

The small shop had a maximum occupancy of thirty people in the dining room, but that didn't seem to be a problem because it wasn't crowded at all. Which meant that there was really no excuse to sit with Milo, who was already picking apart his taco salad as he sat at one of the orange booths in the corner. I chose a table that had someone else at it. Peter Forest. He was in my year at school, and one of my mother's piano students. He'd been at my party the night before and spent a good fifteen minutes telling me how great it was as I ate my chicken tacos before he had to go back to his summer job at the video store across the street.

After Peter left, I found myself looking around for someone to talk to, but I didn't recognize anyone else, which sucked, because I really hated eating alone. I hated doing anything alone. I saw a few girls at a corner table near the door, one of whom might have gone to my school. I thought about joining them for a minute. They wouldn't have minded. But instead, I found myself looking at Milo again. He was sitting with his elbows on the table, silently staring out the window at traffic slowly passing by, as if he wasn't quite aware of anything else around him. In a moment of determination, I lifted my tray of food and my cherry soda, and promptly placed myself in the booth across from him. It didn't take him long to turn his head and glare at me, almost accusingly, as if I were committing a crime just by sitting there.

"Were they all ruined?" I asked, before he could object to my being there.

Milo gave me a funny look. "What?"

"Your paintings--were they all ruined?" I asked. "I mean I saw them, but..."

"Yeah, they were," he said coldly. He was looking at me accusingly again, but this time I guessed it was for a different reason. I felt like defending myself. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't my fault, but somehow, that didn't quite feel like the right thing to do.

"I'm sorry," I said honestly, but those words only earned me another hostile glare. I frowned. "Do you want it back?" I asked him.

"What back?"

"The painting--the scarecrow," I explained. "The one I got from you yesterday? I don't have it with me. It's still in my bag, I'll have to get it from Caleb. But, if you want it back, I'll give it to you. And, I'll pay you for the other ones. I mean, I probably don't have as much as they're worth, but if you want..."

Milo let out a breath as he lowered his eyes to stare at his hands, long, tan fingers spread out on the table, and I watched as his expression actually softened. Or at least, became more relaxed.

"It's not about the money. Just forget it."

I studied him for a long moment, until he met my eyes.

"Joe shouldn't have been driving," I found myself saying. "None of us should have been out there--look, it was fucked up. We were fucked up and I really am sorry. I know it's not an excuse, I just wanted to say..."

"Is it because of my last name?" he suddenly cut me off.

"What?" I didn't get it.

"My last name. Are you apologizing to me because it's Trust? Because you know my dad's the one who made sure things were kept quiet..."

"No," I said quickly, feeling a little surprised. "I mean, it's a very nice name, but it's not because... look, I wanted to apologize before I knew who you were. I really do like your paintings."

"If I was Jame would you be sitting there apologizing?" he responded, and I frowned at that. What was with this guy?

"No. He wouldn't give me a chance to apologize," I responded reasonably, and then found myself frowning at the suspicious look on his face. "I don't expect you to accept it, okay. Just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. I said it. Now, I'm gonna go iron some dresses." I stood up, taking my tray and drink again. Milo didn't object, but I still paused and looked back at him. "Just let me know if you want the painting back, or if I should pay you for the rest, okay?"

I didn't get a response. Just another glare. Milo Trust was really good at glaring. He just wasn't good at making it look intimidating. Just sexy. Green eyes and dark, thick lashes. I'm sure he didn't get it when all I managed to do was smile at him before I walked away. He kept glaring.

Milo glared at me for the next two and a half weeks. We weren't working together every day. Ray had decided that it was a bad idea to keep Caleb and Jame together the very next morning when they'd disturbed the peace at a retirement home where they were supposed to be helping out. They each had to stay an extra hour that day because of the incident. So, Ray kept Caleb and Jame separated, except for when he had the four of us picking up littler off the highway, or other places around town--mostly places where tourists frequented. He had us doing that a lot. The rest of the time, we were broken up into two, or just by ourselves, helping out around local businesses or charities. A couple times I ended up in someone's barn cleaning up after horses or at the Humane Society getting scratched to hell by cats that needed baths. The chores weren't so bad, I guess. And, it only took me a week to get used to the early schedule. Most days Caleb and I would get there together, Ray would tell us what we were doing, and Officer Trujillo would threaten to shoot us. Most of the time, Milo and Jame simply wouldn't speak to Caleb and me, and we didn't speak to them unless it was required. I tried to be friendly, though. Caleb didn't seem to understand this, but he tolerated it--to a point. One day when it was particularly windy, Milo was faced with a knocked-over trash can near the campground and when I went to help, he'd told me to fuck off. I helped him anyway, when he made no further objection, but Caleb had heard what was said and the next thing I knew he was with us and threatening Milo with all sorts of bodily harm before Trujillo, who was babysitting us that day, told us to knock it off, or he'd shoot us. Caleb's outbursts only earned me more dirty looks from Milo. It was becoming discouraging.

I wouldn't say that I was trying to be friends with Milo Trust. It would have been a futile task to attempt something like friendship. He hung out with Assface. According to Caleb, befriending Assface or anyone who liked Assface would be like a crime against the human race as we knew it. But, I couldn't help being a little drawn to Milo. Caleb had given me my duffle bag back that second night when I dropped him off at his house and I'd hung Milo's painting on my wall, so it was the first thing I saw when I walked into my bedroom. My mom had said that she really liked it. I told her I did, too, but I didn't say that every time I looked at it I thought of the artist, and spent most of the time I usually spent sketching up goofy comics of my friends, sketching images of that night, at least the ones I could remember. But, everything was of Milo. Milo at the beach, selling Haily and I that painting. Milo kneeling down in front of his car to change the tire, Milo over me, ready to rip my head off...

I did a lot of thinking about Milo. As the weeks passed and everyone's parents let up on their punishments, Joe and Haily began to come visit Caleb and me at whatever one of the four bakeries we worked at on the weekends; and as my friends and I were able to schedule more visits with each other, meeting for a short time at someone's house, or even meeting at Hangman Cove after Caleb and I were finished with our community service for the day, things began to feel normal again. But when I was home, and by myself in my room, I was always thinking about Milo. When it came to his painting, I thought about returning it every time I looked at it, but he never asked me to, so it stayed right there on the wall in room, and continued to be the first thing I saw when I walked in. Until four days before our community service was supposed to be over.

Uncle Ray had decided to let the four of us off two days early, giving us a free weekend before school started again. Four days before, on a Tuesday morning, once again I'd found myself picking up littler near the highway as I listened to Caleb bitch about how he wanted to get laid at least one more time before summer ended, preferably at Hangman Cove because this year, he wanted to hang a bra next to the scarecrow. I wasn't to tell Haily this because according to Caleb, she'd slap him. He was likely correct in his assumption.

"So you wanna go to Hangman this weekend?" I asked him.

"Hell, yeah. But Joe's not fucking driving. You think Haily will agree to be designated?"

"I'll do it," I replied.

Caleb gave me a funny look. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem," I insisted.

"Yeah, you guys missed a spot!"

I frowned, wondering why Assface took it upon himself to provoke Caleb. I found myself grabbing my best friend's arm, just in case he decided that he was in a bad mood. But instead he looked at the empty soda can amongst a tangle of tumbleweeds on the side of the road, picked it up, and threw it in Jame's direction. Jame laughed, and I saw Milo smack his arm and tell him to just get back to work. Caleb turned to me, shaking his head.

"I'm so tired of those fuckers," he remarked. "I can't wait 'til this shit is over and we don't have to deal with them anymore."

It was those very words that had me pausing to look towards Milo, and suddenly, our community service being over didn't sound like such a good thing. Summer was almost over. I'd be starting school, at a school that Milo Trust didn't go to. I felt a little sad about that. Maybe we weren't exactly friends, but I was pretty sure that I'd miss seeing him. I'd even miss the way he glared at me, or the way he told me to fuck off when I tried to do something to help him. It was kinda pathetic, actually, this sense of loss I felt. But that night when I went home and looked at Milo's painting, a strange sense of closure came over me as I finally decided that I needed to return it. He'd lost all of his work that night, except this, and since I was partly responsible for destroying the other paintings, I'd convinced myself that I didn't have a right to have this one, no matter how much I'd grown to love it.

Only, returning it was easier said than done. I took it with me to the Police department the next day, but when I tried to return it to Milo, he rolled his green eyes at me and walked away. Now, I understand that a normal person would have figured that he didn't want it back, and likely would have left the situation alone, but I didn't do that. Instead, that afternoon, I looked up the Trust's phone number in the phone book. Of course, it wasn't listed. So, on Thursday, I did something incredibly stalker-ish. I followed Milo Trust home. Actually, first I followed him to Assface's house when he dropped off Jame, and then I followed him home. I was actually really surprised that he didn't see me, even though I tried to stay a block away from him at all times. But even then, I was really surprised that he hadn't heard me, since Caleb was in the car, and adamantly objecting to this behavior.

"Please tell me we're doing this so we can egg their houses later," he'd said.