Paint Me a River

Story Sent in by Henrietta:

I was a senior in high school when Ian and I had arranged to meet at a library for our first date. Not because we were planning to read books, but because it was centrally located.

Not long after I arrived there, he called me up and said, "Hey, I'm going to be an hour or so late. Unless you want to stop by here and help me with something. It'll go faster, that way."

I offered, "What do you need help with?"

He replied, "Uh… a fun project I'm working on for you."

Young, dumb, and naive, I drove to his place, parked my car, and rang his doorbell.

He opened it, wearing a painter's jumpsuit and positively spattered with paint, from head to toe.

He said, "We're painting my mother's room."

I replied, "How is that a surprise for me?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "It isn't. Here," and he thrust a tiny paintbrush in my direction, "You do the detail work."

"No," I said.

He frowned, then slammed the door in my face. I waited around for a minute to give him way more of a chance than I should have, and when he didn't come back, I left.

He texted over an hour later, "So where r u?"

I didn't reply. He later followed it up with, "Mom's bedroom came out great even without ur help."

I replied, "She must be very proud of her little boy."

He wrote back, "wtf i'm not little. am moms big son."

I took his word for it. She must have been very proud.