Page 67 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

“Do you know how much work it takes to sell art? Apply for a spot in some little show? Or set up an Etsy where nobody wants to pay for shipping?” She shrugs. “I just do it for me, anyway.”

We stare at the piece for a few moments. I’ve just noticed what looks like an eyeball from a stuffed animal when she asks, “So, how was the weekend?”

“Oh.” I shrug. “Fine.”

She pokes me with the wooden end of her brush. “Doesn’t sound fine. You seem mad.”

I shake my head. “I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure? You look mad.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not mad.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Okay, I’m forking mad!” I even throw my arms in the air and stamp my foot. “I’m so angry I could eat peas.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the saying?—”

“Am I invisible?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

She blinks rapidly like she’s having a hard time keeping up. “Invisible?”

“That’s why I’m angry. Because a lot of the time, it’s like I’m there until it’s inconvenient and then, poof! I’m gone. They just forget I exist. This happens to me over and over again.”

Daisy side-eyes me as she whacks the brush across her palm a few times. “Who are you asking?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she begins as she straightens up her supplies, dropping brushes in jars and closing tubes of paint. “Are you asking best friend, tough critic Daisy? Or sweet, kooky Daisy?”

“Um…” I hesitate, wondering if it bothers Daisy that we all think she’s a bit eccentric.

She carries jars to the slop sink. As she fills them with water, she shouts over her shoulder, “Like, your zany, circle-casting friend might say, ‘Are you kidding me? You’re the opposite of invisible! You’re neon! The life of the party! Everyone loves you.’”

“Which is part of the truth. But best friend Daisy would tell you the rest of it.” Turning off the water, she holds up a hand. “And don’t worry, I know, I know, I’m not your best friend. Leia is.”

Not knowing what else to say, I argue, “I can have more than one best friend.”

She shakes her head definitively. “I don’t think so. The word best means there’s someone at the top of the list.”

“It’s just that I’ve known Leia since we were toddlers.”

“And I’m not a real Climaxian because I moved here in middle school. And then”—she gasps theatrically—“I left for college and didn’t come right back.”

“Well, I left for college and didn’t come right back.”

Daisy holds up her hands like,I’m just callin’ it like I see it.

Needing to make her feel better, I add, “Anyway, you were in the witchy crowd in high school, so we didn’t really hang out.”

“Wiccans, not witches.”

She waves both hands in the air between us like she’s scrubbing it. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Even if I’m only your second or third best friend, I’ll tell you what I really think. If you want me to.”

I’m not sure if I do or I don’t but I say, “I want to know.”

“Okay, then.” She clears her throat and then pins me with the gaze she uses when students say they don’t like an assignment. It’s a little scary. “People don’t usually notice the doormat unless there’s mud on their shoes. Then they just look long enough to make sure they’ve scraped it off before continuing on their merry way.”

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