He’s printing out invoices and stuffing them into envelopes.
“Is your friend still here?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I lean against his chair. “He wants to know if he could study with you. He’s doing some directed-study thing for school and he’s got to put in a certain number of hours working under a professional. He’s in the art magnet.”
Dad looks up. His brown eyes are big and round. They look like frying pans. I run my finger over the lids of my own round eyes. Are mine that big?
“Me, a professional?” he asks.
We both laugh. “Yeah, you, Dad.”
“What do you think?” He licks an envelope shut.
My eye catches the Disney photo of us again. Mom’s smiling at me. I think she’d like Graham. At least for his initiative. I feel like she’d be proud of me for helping him.
“I think he’s really excited about it and he seems like a nice guy. He’s a lot different than most guys my age. Definitely more mature.” Okay, so I don’t want to overdo it, to tell Dad that if I sit next to Graham any longer, I’m going to need a bib. The drool factor is that bad.
“Tell him to come by La Reverie on Monday, around three, and to bring his sketchbook. We’ll take it from there.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I wrap my arms around him.
Dad picks up an invoice from the printer and frowns. “I can hardly read this.”
“Change the type size.” I lean over him to grab the mouse, then click on Font in the toolbar and select 14. “Now print again.”
Dad smiles. “What would I do without ma cherie ?”
“You’d still be using one of those wall telephones and washing your dishes by hand.” I shut the door and walk back to Graham. He’s exactly where I left him, playing with a loose thread on the pocket of his pants.
I sit on the arm of the couch and tell him to be at my Dad’s studio with samples of his work on Monday at three.
“Really?” Graham stands up.
“Yup.” I start to smile but stop abruptly when I realize that my next basketball game is scheduled at the very same time.
“Something wrong?” Graham’s eyes move back and forth, surveying my face.
Geez, I’m like an open book. I force my lips to form a smile. “Nothing. I’m sure everything’s going to be great!”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” Graham hugs me.
I hug him back and a tingle rushes through my body. My face rests gently on his shoulder. I push a little closer to his neck and am immediately drawn in by his sensual smell. Wow. I breathe in. I’ll call it vanilla rain. One of the purest smells on earth.
Cassia Hadley. Now that has a good ring to it!
mud and blood
“Hi, I’m Cassia Bernard Hadley. Nice to meet you.” On center court we have Number 11, Cassia Bernard Hadley. Cassia Bernard Hadley breaks the world record for balancing a penny on her nose for seven hours and fifteen minutes!
I have to admit, this Cassia Bernard Hadley gig is working really well for me. It’s perfect. Both Graham and I are tall, sixteen, Floridians, and love my dad. Oh, my dad. I can’t forget that to Graham, there’s no Cassia without Jacques. And there’s going to be no Jacques at my game this afternoon.
Dad probably wouldn’t be happy watching us play the Brown team anyway, and definitely wouldn’t want to see the Gray team on Wednesday. I’ll invite him to the game on Thursday instead, when we play Purple (spirituality, peace, and imagination). They’re much more his color.
Mid-morning, Dad appears from his bedroom with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. His first stop is always the balcony to get his morning fix. That was Mom’s first stop, too, but her reason was to smell the fresh ocean air, not pollute it. For months after she died, I was afraid to go out on the balcony. I don’t know if I was more scared of falling over the railing or actually seeing her ghost standing there in her bathrobe. When Dad would go out, I’d hold my breath (or at least try) until he
“Is your friend still here?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I lean against his chair. “He wants to know if he could study with you. He’s doing some directed-study thing for school and he’s got to put in a certain number of hours working under a professional. He’s in the art magnet.”
Dad looks up. His brown eyes are big and round. They look like frying pans. I run my finger over the lids of my own round eyes. Are mine that big?
“Me, a professional?” he asks.
We both laugh. “Yeah, you, Dad.”
“What do you think?” He licks an envelope shut.
My eye catches the Disney photo of us again. Mom’s smiling at me. I think she’d like Graham. At least for his initiative. I feel like she’d be proud of me for helping him.
“I think he’s really excited about it and he seems like a nice guy. He’s a lot different than most guys my age. Definitely more mature.” Okay, so I don’t want to overdo it, to tell Dad that if I sit next to Graham any longer, I’m going to need a bib. The drool factor is that bad.
“Tell him to come by La Reverie on Monday, around three, and to bring his sketchbook. We’ll take it from there.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I wrap my arms around him.
Dad picks up an invoice from the printer and frowns. “I can hardly read this.”
“Change the type size.” I lean over him to grab the mouse, then click on Font in the toolbar and select 14. “Now print again.”
Dad smiles. “What would I do without ma cherie ?”
“You’d still be using one of those wall telephones and washing your dishes by hand.” I shut the door and walk back to Graham. He’s exactly where I left him, playing with a loose thread on the pocket of his pants.
I sit on the arm of the couch and tell him to be at my Dad’s studio with samples of his work on Monday at three.
“Really?” Graham stands up.
“Yup.” I start to smile but stop abruptly when I realize that my next basketball game is scheduled at the very same time.
“Something wrong?” Graham’s eyes move back and forth, surveying my face.
Geez, I’m like an open book. I force my lips to form a smile. “Nothing. I’m sure everything’s going to be great!”
“Thanks, you’re the best.” Graham hugs me.
I hug him back and a tingle rushes through my body. My face rests gently on his shoulder. I push a little closer to his neck and am immediately drawn in by his sensual smell. Wow. I breathe in. I’ll call it vanilla rain. One of the purest smells on earth.
Cassia Hadley. Now that has a good ring to it!
mud and blood
“Hi, I’m Cassia Bernard Hadley. Nice to meet you.” On center court we have Number 11, Cassia Bernard Hadley. Cassia Bernard Hadley breaks the world record for balancing a penny on her nose for seven hours and fifteen minutes!
I have to admit, this Cassia Bernard Hadley gig is working really well for me. It’s perfect. Both Graham and I are tall, sixteen, Floridians, and love my dad. Oh, my dad. I can’t forget that to Graham, there’s no Cassia without Jacques. And there’s going to be no Jacques at my game this afternoon.
Dad probably wouldn’t be happy watching us play the Brown team anyway, and definitely wouldn’t want to see the Gray team on Wednesday. I’ll invite him to the game on Thursday instead, when we play Purple (spirituality, peace, and imagination). They’re much more his color.
Mid-morning, Dad appears from his bedroom with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. His first stop is always the balcony to get his morning fix. That was Mom’s first stop, too, but her reason was to smell the fresh ocean air, not pollute it. For months after she died, I was afraid to go out on the balcony. I don’t know if I was more scared of falling over the railing or actually seeing her ghost standing there in her bathrobe. When Dad would go out, I’d hold my breath (or at least try) until he
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