Page 59 of Possibly Texas

Did my thoughts prove I was an artist since I could see the beauty in the tiny town tucked away at the end of a trail that was becoming slowly overgrown?

If I was an artist, what was my art? I’d never drawn anything in my life that didn’t look like a blob.

I found myself sitting there, wondering how I would capture the scene from my window artistically if I were to make an attempt. Everyone in town—aside from Levi Lee—seemed to understand the artistic part of their soul.

Did Levi Lee masturbate?

I shook my head again as my cheeks grew hot.

As things were, my only choice, that I could see, was to visit The Pueblo. It was one of the few places in Possibly proper I hadn’t let Auggie drag me to visit. Maybe Lilly—or one of the other artists there—would inspire me. Give me some insight into my thoughts and abilities.

I wasn’t sure how the day passed and I never left the window, but the sun finally put itself to rest hours later. I’d had no contact with anyone except Jack all day. I’d only eaten cereal at breakfast. And I found that I was okay with all of it.

When I stripped my shirt off and tossed it to the floor, I checked my phone for old time’s sake.

I miss you, Jordy. One day, we’ll be back together. Promise.

Mom finally remembered me. I didn’t know whether to smile or tap out a response about how angry I was with her. Without strong feelings pushing me either way, I simply locked my phone and slid it back onto my bedside table. Maybe I’d feel like responding the next day. Or the day after that. She had taken her time in texting me; she could wait for my response.

Before climbing into bed, I sat up on my knees in front of the window as the moon cast the town in blues and blacks. My eyes automatically went to the Auggie’s barn. Without a second thought, I pushed my dormer window open and leaned forward, listening carefully as I stared at the dark roof down by the creek. Seconds later, the Possibilian breeze—it was a citizen, too—carried an indiscernible song to my ears. When the lights appeared through the skylight in the roof, I smiled.

A vision of Auggie zipped through my brain. A flash of a white diamond.

I left the window open when I slid under the covers so that the breeze could carry Auggie’s berceuse to me. However, if I was honest, it sounded like a dirge. Though I couldn’t make out the tune or lyrics, it made me think of the windchimes in the clearing in the woods.

Hopefully, Auggie would be at The Pueblo the next day.

As I drifted off to sleep, I could have sworn I heard a door open and close.

That night, I dreamt of a car crash. My mom screaming at me. But it didn’t disturb my sleep.

Lilly, a sturdy woman in a white tank top and bib overalls, was enthusiastic to see me walk into The Pueblo the following day. Of course, other than Wyatt, almost everyone in Possibly had a welcoming attitude towards everyone else. Wyatt was the only one with a revolver and carte blanche to use it, apparently, so that explained that if you thought about it.

By “sturdy,” I don’t mean to say that Lilly was exceptionally large, though she was definitely not a slender woman. Lilly simply looked as though she could sling a bag—or an unruly teenage boy—over her shoulder and throw it or him around. She didn’t take guff. I could see it in her eyes. However, her eyes also told the tale that if you treated her right, she’d treat you better than well.

She didn’t look for trouble, but she wasn’t taking any, either.

“What kind of art do you like?” she asked when I was brought to her attention by one of her students who had set up an easel and canvas in the atrium.

All I could respond with was a shrug of my shoulders and a guttural noise from my throat.

Lilly cackled and slapped at her knee at my response. I liked her immediately. Just like everywhere else in Possibly, AMOR was playing inside The Pueblo during Lilly’s art classes, though at a much lower volume. Probably so it didn’t disturb the students.

Make Someone Happy by Jimmy Durante was the song du jour. It made me smile. Just like Lilly’s reaction to my response.

“I take it you ain’t never done much art?” she asked.

“No ma’am,” I said. “I just…maybe it’s something I need to try?”

She pointed a finger in my face. “You’re a good kid. I like you…?”

“Jordan.”

“I like you, Jordan,” she said.

Lilly and I had seen each other around town, but we’d never been properly introduced. She spent most of her days in The Pueblo and I spent most of my days learning with Auggie. The opportunity had never presented itself. Even with all of the waves and “hellos” we’d shared over the previous weeks, we’d never had an actual conversation.

She reached around and put a hand on my shoulder blade, guiding me away from the student she had been watching when I approached them. With no reason not to, I allowed myself to be guided to the other side of the patch of grass in the middle of the atrium. That golden Possibly sun shone down on us, somehow not turning the room of stone into an oven. The Pueblo was pleasantly cool, full of natural light, perfect for an artist’s work. I imagined.