Page 72 of Ten Rules for Faking It
Everly thanked her before shutting down the computer. Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she thought about the interaction, about the podcast she still wanted to push. Mari had seemed on edge about Everly getting another spotlight. It wasn’t what she was after, though. She just wanted to create something that would resonate with people. Ideas started to simmer. She didn’t have to be sole producer of the podcast. Everly had never wantedorneeded the spotlight. She just wanted to be good at her job.
A small smile played on her lips as she thought of ideas to bounce off Mari and Stacey. The five words on her screen pulled her heart back into her stomach.
MOM:Come visit at my office?
Everly sighed and closed her laptop, getting up from the table. She took her phone with her as she walked toward her bedroom to grab a light sweater. As she went, she typed the response her mother was no doubt expecting because this was so far from the first time, she couldn’t even remember.
EVERLY:On my way.
Her mom’s office was actually a converted home. They owned the entire home, but she ran her massage practice out of the bottom. The top unit was shared by a chiropractor and a physical therapist. The entrance and living area had been transformedinto a waiting area, the former kitchen was now a staff break room, and two of the three bedrooms were massage rooms. The third bedroom was an office for her mom, complete with pullout couch and television. It was a pretty sweet setup.
Everly knocked, ignoring the knots growing in her stomach. Her mother opened on the second knock.
“Hi, sweet girl.” She pulled her into a tight hug.
“Hi, Mom,” Everly said, her voice muffled by her mother’s embrace.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said, stepping back and waving Everly in.
Uh-huh. And if she hadn’t, she’d never hear the end of it. The sound of a game show came from down the hall, along with the scent of lavender. What had been the catalyst this time?
“Did you have dinner?”
Everly slipped off her shoes and walked toward the office. “No. I went to the gym and was going to eat after,” she said. She hadn’t been hungry after the gym. Simon tended to ruin her appetite.
“The gym? Good for you. I’ll order Chinese.”
“I’m not hungry, Mom. What are you guys fighting about?” Why did they have to do this dance? Why couldn’t they remember she was their kid, not their friend, not their counselor?Uh, because you never say anything?
When she walked into the office, she stopped abruptly. “What is that?”
“Do you like it?” Her mom came up behind her, poked her head over Everly’s shoulder. “It’s my new hobby. Life portraits of the male form. And if you must know,that’swhat we fought about.”
Everly tried to look somewhere else—at the television, the couch, the floor—but it was impossible not to stare at the life-size canvas she’d set up against the wall. Where had she even gotten a canvas that big?
Her mom moved around her and walked over, gesturing to the painting—if it could actually be called that—with wild, fluttery hands and a smile.
“I’ve been taking a course here and there at the college. Your father was all offended when he found my drawings around the house. But look at this, Evs. This is the human body in all its glory.”
Everly choked and nodded at the same time. It looked more like stretched beige cloth with a tennis ball shoved into the top of it and strange limb-like things—Please let that one be a leg and not something else—sprouting out from different areas.
“Is it… um, abstract?”
Her mother’s smile flatlined. “No. Oh, honey, you don’t have an artist’s eye. Plus, it’s not finished. This is just the beginning.”
Everly absolutely did not want to know what it was the beginning of. And she hoped never to see the end.Oh God, what if she gives it to me as a gift?There was no hiding that thing at the back of a closet. It was bigger than her closet.
She sank down on the couch, oddly unsettled as if there were a third, faceless, well-endowed presence in the room.
“Dad didn’t like the drawings?”
Her mother sank down beside her. “No. Men can appreciate—a.k.a. drool—all over women’s bodies and talk about their great butts and boobs and everything else, but I can’t comment when I see a well-shaped man? I mean, excuse me for noticing a really tight, firm—”
“Mom.” The word snapped out of her mouth like a shot. She held up a hand. “Got it. Appreciation is one thing, but would you like it if Dad were drawing the female form?”
Her mother’s eyes widened and filled with tears. “I asked him to take the course with me. I’m sure they’ll get some female models soon.”
Everly’s jaw dropped. “You looked at a real person for this?”
