Page 70 of Wish I Were Here
Of course, Dad’s only saying that because he doesn’t know how close Uncle Vito came to detaching him from his limbs.
“I had no idea there were so many different types of carnival performers in Pittsburgh,” Luca muses.
“There’s a pretty big community, actually. Tight-knit.” Dad looks around the room. “Most of us regularly hang out at ArtSpace, and we all support each other.”
“What’s ArtSpace?”
“Catherine didn’t tell you?”
Luca raises an eyebrow. “No?”
Dad’s face lights up. “It’s a collaborative space for artists to come together to share their work with each other and thecommunity. Anyone is welcome—performing artists, visual artists, whatever floats your boat. The circus community gets together a few times a week to practice our craft and design our acts, and we do occasional performances for the community.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Dad reaches out and gives Luca’s shoulder a squeeze. “You ought to come down sometime. Everyone is welcome, and I’m happy to show you the ropes.”
Luca grins. “I see what you did there.”
“Yep, there are literal ropes hanging from the ceiling,” I say. There’s also an art gallery. I peeked in when I was there the other day and noticed they’re between exhibits.
“If you’re interested in aerials or acrobatics, it’s the best place to learn,” Dad adds.
“I’m more of a visual artist, but I’m willing to give it a try,” Luca says, up for anything, as usual.
“Really?” A smile stretches across Dad’s face. There’s nothing he loves more than encountering a fellow artist. “What’s your medium?”
“I do illustration, mostly.”
“Is any of this yours?” Dad waves a hand at the ink on Luca’s arm.
“Most of it, yeah.”
“Beautiful. You have a lot of talent, but I’m sure you already know that.”
“I mostly do it for fun.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Dad says. “ArtSpace supports artists of all levels. Let me know if you ever want to check it out.”
“Thanks, Andy. It sounds great. Maybe Catherine can take me over there, and I’ll finally convince her to show me a few of her circus tricks.” He looks at me. “The unicycle?”
“Nope.” I shake my head.
“Acrobatics?”
“Uh-uh.”
Luca sighs. “Fine. At least show me how you can juggle.”
“That is never, ever happening,” I say sweetly. But maybe Iwilltake him to ArtSpace. I’d love to show him the gallery. Just in case he ever wants to get those drawings out of his mom’s attic.
Mrs. Goodwin shimmies over, doing a two-step to the music playing through the speakers. “Helloooo,” she trills. And though she stops in front of us, her shoulders keep bopping. “Now, who is this gentleman?” She looks Dad up and down.
“Andy Lipton, at your service,” Dad says with a bow. “Father of the brilliant Catherine. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you.” From anyone else, it would be a corny line, but Dad sincerely means everything he says, and Mrs. Goodwin beams.
“Catherine, you didn’t tell me your father was so charming.” Two pink spots bloom on her cheeks. “Or so handsome.”
Dad is only forty-eight, tall, and fit from all the juggling and pedaling and balancing on thin lines of webbing. But it’s his charisma that draws people in. He has a way of making everyone want to move in his orbit, and of welcoming them all in. My gaze slides to Luca.
