Page 44 of Caleb
Me:Good girl.See you in thirty minutes.
2007
The Bastard’s Epiphany
August 22, 2007
“SOMETHING’S ON YOUR MIND,”I tell Red as we walk up the steps to the front door. She seems spacey. We’re both sweaty from our run, but her slightly freckled skin is blotchy from all the sun. She needs to hydrate. We went out a little later today, so the sun burned brightly above us the entire time. She was tired and had trouble waking up, which is unusual for her. She’s a morning person.
Something’s off.
“No, I’m fine,” she says with a smile, but her brows pull in. She licks her lower lip and is careful to avoid eye contact. She knows that if she meets my gaze, that’s how I get inside her head. And that’s precisely what I’m trying to do, and she knows it.
“Red.” I grab her arm and make her look at me. She does, and a twisted round of hide and seek ensues. One that consists of her trying to hide from me, but I won’t allow it. Not right now. Not when I’m picking up this dense ripple of feelings emanating from her. “What’s wrong?”
She stares down at my hand on her arm with a defiant look on her face, so I release her. She looks so grown up right now. It’s funny how quickly she’s gone from looking like a child to a young woman. And it’s mostly her attitude too. And the fact that she turned eighteen four months ago. I’m happy to see glimpses of the fire inside her wanting to come out and burn everything in her path. She’s fighting it, but it’s there.
Give it time.
“You’re not letting me walk away until I talk, right?” She sighs, and I shake my head slowly. This is what I’m here for. My favorite job in the world—her.
Red’s hand rests on her hip, and she bobs her head as if trying to shake the thoughts away with the movement.
“I don’t know. Summer’s almost over, and I need to start thinking about my plans for university. I wanted to take a sabbatical semester after graduation, but my father refused when I talked to him about it last night on the phone. My plan was to enroll in different photography courses, maybe, and just play around with my camera for a while before deciding what to do.” She lets out a deep breath through her mouth. “It just makes me anxious to choose a career path when I’ve no idea what I want to do. You know what I mean? I need to be sure because my dad won’t allow me to change my mind further down the road. I know him. He’ll want me to commit to whatever it is I choose.”
Relief washes over me. We can talk about this. It’s just normal school stuff. Important stuff, of course. But we can sort this out. I just get worried when I see her like this because I know how sometimes certain things happen, or she listens in on a security briefing, or she has another futile discussion with her father about her mom’s death, and it’s like she goes back a thousand steps on the progress she’s made with feeling safe. And I fucking hate that. I’ve worked so hard these last couple of years to make her feel like it’s okay to come out of her room or meet her friends for things other than dinner once a week and the occasional special event.
We’re still working on the latter.
“Why don’t you study photography?” It seems to me that’s what she likes to do. And I’ve seen her playing around with her camera. She seems to enjoy it a lot, so I don’t get why that’s not a viable option for her to choose as a major.
“My dad doesn’t think it’s a real career,” she starts to explain. “He thinks it’s fine as a hobby, but he’s been encouraging me to think of something else. Something more ‘real.’ He said I should enroll in a photography class on the weekends.”
Typical.
It’s hard enough for people to realize what they like doing only to have someone tell them that it’s not acceptable or real enough. It’s bullshit, of course, and completely ridiculous if you ask me.
Another reason to hate that man’s guts.
“If that’s what you’re feeling inclined to do, then I truly think you should do it,” I say, unable to keep the annoyance at bay. “Investigate your options and show him you’re serious about this. I’m sure there must be great schools for that sort of thing here in Paris.”
“There are actually, and I’ve already done that.”
I’m not surprised in the slightest. Red’s a smart girl, and she knows what she wants. She’s just not used to demanding the things she wants for herself. It’s always up to her father to choose everything for her. Even her fucking future. And I’m so done having to witness that.
“There are two university options I like, but one is my favorite. It’s tougher to get in, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“I’m sure you’d have no trouble getting in. You just need to make it clear to him that that’s what you want. Maybe put an album together of photos you’ve taken or something like that, so he sees you mean business. We could go out this afternoon to take some photos since the weather is nice and you have a free schedule.”
“That’s not a bad idea at all,” she says, a smile appearing on her lips as she looks away in the distance. “There are a few places I’ve been wanting to photograph, but I wonder if it’s—”
“Safe?” I cut her off with a raised brow and finish that sentence for her. She nods, and I detect a mild embarrassment in her gesture. “Come on, Red. Don’t offend me.”
She lets out a nervous laugh.
“Okay, okay.” She walks toward the door, grabs the handle, and looks over her shoulder with a smile. “I’ll see you guys down here at five?”
“You’re the boss, Miss Murphy.”
