Page 8 of Pete and His Precious

“I think it was an Irish name. One of those Mac names. Macintosh...McKinley!” she shouts, well, not shouts, but you know what I mean.

“Maybe?” I say, even though that does sound familiar.

“I know it is. Pete McKinley. All right. That’s all I needed to know. Thank you so much for your help. And, you are coming to lunch on Sunday, right? After all, it’s the last time you’ll see me until I get back from Paris.”

She said it kind of a singsong voice like I didn’t see her multiple times every week, and, actually, I will miss her. She’s my sister, and while she and I are as different as two people can be, I love her. And that’s the way it is.

“Oh!” she says like she has just remembered something, but I’m thinking that she meant to ask me all along, because she says, “I’m hoping that you’ll help you’ll still help with Bexley?”

“Of course. It’s a lot for my parents to do, and I’m happy to help. Bexley is a sweetheart.

“I know you don’t make a whole lot at your job, so you know I’ll pay you.”

I know she would. But I love hanging with Bexley and don’t want paid. That’s part of the reason I am rushing to try to get done with the book that I’m currently recording. I know I won’t have a whole lot of time if I have Bexley evenings and weekends.

“Wait a second. Where does the security guard fit in?”

“He’ll follow Bexley around wherever she goes when she’s not in school. I mean, I’ll probably let him go home for the night if she safely tucked away at the house, but... I would rather he stay. I’m going to talk to mom about it. I think she’ll let him stay in the guestroom.”

“He can’t be on duty all the time,” I say quickly, and with not a little bit of panic in my voice. After all, this is the man that I have been avoiding for the last year. It’s a small town, and that’s no easy feat. I don’t want to be face-to-face with him every time I see my niece.

“You’re right. I should tell him he can go home as soon as she’s in bed and the doors are locked for the night.”

“He doesn’t have to be here at my apartment. You need a key to get in the door, and then you need a key to get in my apartment. It is perfectly safe here.”

“We both know that you don’t spend any more time than what you have to in your apartment for your job. You couldn’t spend an hour cooped up inside unless someone makes you do it, which I’m not going to attempt to do. So no. He follows you and Bexley wherever you go.”

There isn’t too much she could have said that would make me feel worse. But I try to shake it off. There’s gotta be a way around this. Just like I’m not actually going to be in the dunking booth, or participating in the festival at all. Other than face painting. I really like that.

My sister and I hang up, and I apparently was able to keep my voice modulated and my tone light, and she doesn’t realize how devastated I am with her news.

I see as I’m hanging up I see that I have a message.

I feel a thrill of excitement. Most of the time, messages are because someone has taken me up on my tutoring offers. I offer piano lessons, in the student’s home, since I don’t have a piano. I don’t play very well either, but I do read music and I can teach beginners. Most people quit before they get through the beginner stage, so I’ve never been challenged on this. I also get guitar lessons, same deal, although I do have a guitar, along with tutoring of math, reading, reading as a second language and drawing lessons.

The drawing lessons are what I really love, and that’s what I’m being asked for in this message.

I try not to sound too enthusiastic as I reply.

I like to start someplace neutral. I prefer the library. That way if it truly is a character who’s up to no good, I’m in a public place.

This person messages back immediately, and that makes me feel like they also prefer a neutral place and feel safe with me.

Sounds great. When can I start?

Again, I don’t want to sound like my schedule is completely open. As in wide-open, other than my waitressing job. My narrating job, I can do anytime. My waitressing job is just in the mornings. Usually I’m done by two.

I’m free tomorrow anytime between two and seven PM.

I try not to cross my fingers as I wait for the reply, walking to my living room and sitting down. Once I’m done with this conversation, I need to go to my closet and continue to record.

How about 2:30?

Perfect. I’ll meet you at the library. I’ll be the one sitting at the table in the corner with a box of crayons sideways on the table beside me.

That’s how I always identify myself to drawing customers. That way they don’t have to look around the library and wonder who in the world they should be approaching.

There aren’t too many adults that sit with a box of crayons at their table.

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