One More Time

Red

"Painting?" Patrick asked, raising an eyebrow at Oliver as they sat on the couch, Patrick staring at the various paintings Oliver did on his wall. "Yeah. It was one of the things that really helped me in rehab," Oliver said, fiddling with his one-year chip between his fingers. "I'm not that good at it, but it's something about the control that gives my brain some relaxation. At least, that's what they say in the group." Said Oliver, snickering to himself.

Patrick nodded, popping his knuckles as he sat back on the couch. "Are you sure that you don't want to come to the cookout?" Patrick asked, looking up at the ceiling. "She won't be there." Oliver just nodded. "I know. But I still don't want to go, and have to explain to mainly strangers that I don't drink and that I don't want to give details about what happened over there." 

The two fell silent after that. The war in Vietnam was still going on, and some of their friends were still overseas, fighting tooth and nail through everything that's thrown towards them. "If you change your mind, you know where Alison and I are." Patrick reminded him, rising to his feet, turning towards Oliver as he did. 

"I missed you, man. Seriously, come over whenever. You can even teach me to paint if you want." Oliver couldn't help but smile at his old friend. "Go on home before Alison calls me all worried." The young man rose to a standing position, taking a moment to have some sense of balance. The two friends gave each other a short but tight hug before Patrick left the house.

Shortly after Patrick left the house, Oliver got dressed in a plain black shirt and pants, before leaving the house, and heading down the street to the nearby arts and crafts store for more supplies. It was part of his Saturday routine, and every Saturday, the same girl would help him find the paints, the canvases, and check him out at the front of the store. 

When he got there, the teenager was already standing there, smiling gleefully at Oliver. "Are you ready?" She asked, looping her arm through his. Oliver smiled and nodded. "Sure, kid." The veteran knew this store like the back of his hand, but it was nice to have the company. The teenager put Oliver's paints into a plastic basket and was walking him towards the canvases when he saw why she had been smiling when he first walked in. 

A beautiful strawberry blonde standing there, dressed in a beautiful full-skirted black dress, with a red rose pinned in her waves.

Oliver was not overreacting when he would say, he was breathless.