The Squared Circle by JAMES W. BENNETT

this?” he asked Sissy.
    â€œYou’re probably strong as an ox, aren’t you?” she asked. When she said “Okay,” Sonny put his hands back in his lap. She wanted to know if he’d ever done any carpentry.
    â€œSome, at Uncle Seth’s. I always got A’s in shop. So what’s the point of these questions, anyway?”
    â€œThe point is, I may actually have something, unlikely as it seems.”
    â€œHave what?” Sonny asked eagerly.
    Sissy was rubbing her closed eyes. He noted the long fingers with the irregular nails. Other than the gray in her hair, and the well-defined crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes, she didn’t really look her age.
    â€œHave what?” he asked again.
    â€œDo you know anything about art?” she asked.
    Even if he needed a favor, Sonny wasn’t prepared to lie. “Not actually. I always took shop instead of art.”
    â€œI need some help with a restoration project,” she said. “I have to get some fresco panels taken down and transported from Pyramid State Park. I’m working on a grant from the National Endowment.”
    Words like fresco panels and national endowment didn’t mean much to Sonny. “And you could give me credit for helping you?”
    â€œI could give you an hour of independent study. The panels have to be transported safely by second semester. I have a seminar that’s going to work on restoring them. It will be hard work getting them here, worth an hour’s credit at least.”
    â€œDon’t forget, I only need one hour.”
    â€œI’m not forgetting. I had an art major picked out for this, but he dropped out of school.”
    â€œSo let me do it,” said Sonny.
    Sissy searched his eyes for several moments before she answered. “You’re so young, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’ll be nineteen at the end of next month. You know how old I am.”
    â€œHow’s your mother?”
    â€œShe’s the same, I suppose.” Why is she changing the subject with a question like this? “I see her about once a month, but I don’t think she recognizes me. She’s been catatonic. This is off the subject, isn’t it?”
    â€œMaybe and maybe not.” Sissy was smiling, but it wasn’t teasing. It seemed like a patient and fond smile. “Actually, it might work out nicely. You’re strong and you have some experience with tools and materials.”
    Where she was headed seemed promising, so Sonny didn’t say anything. Sissy added, “It would take us clear through December, I imagine, which is well past the end of the semester.”
    â€œI don’t think that would be a problem. I’d have the team, but no classes; there should be enough free time.” In spite of himself, he was starting to breathe a sigh of relief. He waited a moment before he added, “It seems perfect to me, Sissy. You’d have your project ready to go and I’d be eligible. I know you’re eligible if you’re carrying twelve hours.”
    â€œIt’s perfectly political , that’s for sure,” she replied. “I have no interest in basketball, and you have no interest in art. What could be better?”
    It wasn’t the first time in his life he’d observed her sarcasm, which could just about blow you away. “It just seems to me like we’d be helping each other out,” he said quietly.
    â€œAnd it seems to me we’d be using each other. Would it bother you at all to earn credit if you have no real interest in the subject matter?”
    â€œNo,” he said without hesitation. “That’s what I do every day. What would bother me is going ineligible. Basketball is my whole life.”
    She reached upon the table to touch his hand, which was wrapped around his Coke. She gave a long sigh. “Cousin, Cousin. I’m going to need a little time to think about this. There are art