Page 13 of Glass & Groundwork
My father folded his hands and leaned closer, his eyes boring holes into me. “What exactly are you asking for…Son?”
“Two years advance. Give me two years, and I will forfeit the next five. Or ten. Whatever you decide is fair if I can just get twoyears up front.” There was nofairin any of this, but I would give it all up in order to make this happen.
My mother waved her hand in the air to get the attention of our server who had been keeping a polite distance. “I’d like a Bloody Mary, please.”
“Of course. Can I get anyone anything else?” The server looked around the table, and took a step back, separating herself from the clear tension.
“No.” My father and I both said in unison. As good as a stiff drink sounded, I wanted to keep as clear a head as possible.
As soon as she left, my mother focused on eating as if I had just asked for twenty dollars and not two-hundred-thousand. She chewed her food slowly and deliberately, drawing out the suspense, and making my chest tighten. When she swallowed, she folded her hands in front of her.
“Now, Jasper,dear…”Dear? Fuck. She only ever brought out the syrupy term of endearment when she was about to lay down the law. “I believe we’ve allowed your whims long enough. Now, enough of thishot shopnonsense. It’s time for you to make an actual contribution to society.”
This time I couldn’t keep a bite out of my voice. “Artisa contribution to society, just ask any of your friends that spend thousands on paintings and statues.”
My mother unfolded and refolded her hands. “They pay for well-known names. You’re being naive if you think you can make a living as an artist, especially if you think you can make the kind of money we’ve generously given you. It’s a hobby, that’s all.”
“Everywell-knownartist had to start somewhere. I’ve trained with some of the top people in glass.”
“Thanks to us,” my mother interjected.
I huffed in frustration. It was rare I spoke back to my parents, but I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Sure,thanks to your support, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have knowledge andskills and the potential to become someone. Even if I don't, even if I never become a successful artist, I won’t stop. This is what I love doing, and I’m not going to change my mind. It’s not awhimor a hobby. It’s what I intend to do for as long as I am physically able to do it.”
My father slapped a hand on the table. “Enough!”
My heart stopped with the outburst, something that almost never occurred. My father was the type who didn’t need to raise his voice. His presence and demeanor often spoke loudly enough to get his point across.
My mother bobbed her head once. “Yes, I quite agree.”
“Agree with what?” I asked carefully, dreading the answer I already suspected.
“You’ll go to work like an adult and leave this foolishness behind.”
I muttered through gritted teeth. “And if I say no?”
“Then you are on your own to pay off the remainder of the construction costs. I will not sign off on an advance and neither will your mother.”
My stomach dropped and my vision blurred. “But I…”
“No. You will figure it out on your own, as you did when you signed the contract.” The finality in my father’s voice hit me like a punch to my soul. It didn’t allow for any kind of response. That was the end of the conversation.
I couldn’t handle sitting across from them any longer. Not when they were able to pull my dreams out from under me in one go. I tossed my napkin on the table and stood, not sure if I could even manage a polite goodbye.
“It was good to see you, Jasper. Do call next time,” my mother said as she stirred the celery around her drink. The two would sit there and continue on as if my entire world hadn’t just come off its axis.
With hot tears burning in the corners of my eyes, I fled the restaurant, fled my parents, fled the black hole that was attempting to swallow me. What was I going to do?
Gio
Iwas packing the truck, getting it ready for Heartcraft in the morning, when I saw a familiar Jeep pull onto the gravel road that led to the farm house. After seeing him leave in a hurry this morning, I didn’t expect him to come back. Of all the days he’d been here, he had yet to stay for dinner. Which was fine, it was an invitation, not an expectation. Maybe I had been a little disappointed, but it was my problem, not his. At the thought of his returning for dinner, my heart kicked up a little, until I watched him approach slowly. Something was off. I wasn’t sure what, but I felt my hackles rise, as I loaded a box of honey into the back of the truck.
Jasper parked but didn't get out. My protectiveness flared and I was seconds away from running to the door and flinging it open, but I didn't have a claim to those kinds of feelings withthis man. I tried to give him whatever time he clearly needed and kept myself busy.
Yahir stuck his head out and yelled back into the house, “Hey, Jasper's here!”
With it being the only home on the private road, there really was no sneaking up on the farmhouse. The crunch of gravel under tires was a sound that couldn't be missed. Yahir took a step out, as if to greet Jasper, but when he met my gaze, his feet stilled.
“Can you give us a minute?” I asked.
