Page 18 of Here With Me (Paloma's Edge 2)

“Dad, I’ve been saving up my money,” I lied, because I wasn’t going to get Mother in trouble. She’d never made me feel like I wasn’t a good son, or a punk because I liked to draw. The only thing Chase and I both did together was swim, and those days were few and far between, now that he’d attended football camp for the past two summers and was on the youth football league. Chase wasn’t around, like he used to be. He’d watch me draw, or I’d practice catching a football with him on occasion. “I stopped for days and I couldn’t focus. I do the chores I am told to do. I do my homework.”

Dad ripped the rest of my drawings to little pieces on my floor. He bristled. “I’ve specifically told you to quit with that pansy shit. You’re not a kid anymore. If you spent more time reviewing how the different branches of government exerts their power, you wouldn’t have gotten a seventy on your exam at your Law Youth program.”

“I don’t wanna be a lawyer,” I told him in a low tone, when I really wanted to say that I hadn’t ever wanted to be one; I’d wanted to stay in his office with him while he went through tons of papers at his desk, because he’d looked so cool and important. Aside from those times I’d been with him in his office, I’d rarely seen him. Mom was either in her room or gardening.

“You think you’re going to make a living by sketching chicken scratch? Well, I’ve got news for you—in ten years, you’ll be flipping burgers if you don’t get out of that dreamer mentality,” he yelled, his voice echoing down the hallway.

A second later, Mother was by the other side of the door in her silk nightgown. Loose auburn waves were like curtains on either side of her symmetrical pale face. Her golden brown eyes grew larger as she gazed at little pieces of paper on the floor. She hadn’t purchased cheap sketch paper either. It took a lot to easily tear it into little pieces like that.

“Gerald,” Mom addressed him with a crack in her voice, “Hunter spent weeks doing those sketches. You’re such a bully!” She bent down and slowly began gathering the pieces of paper in her hands, her eyes filled with tears.

“So, you’re the one who bought all this junk.”

“I am the one who bought the easel in his tree house, the charcoal, and the pencils for his sketching,” Nana said as Mom dropped the papers into my trashcan and then stood up. “So, you owe me money back, because that’s my money in the garbage. You know I’ve got a fixed income at my age. Charlotte told me what my grandbaby likes when we were at the art supply store and I saw to it that I got it for him. Must you spoil everything?” She turned her back to him and by the time she was by my side, she was rubbing my back in soothing circles. My breathing was erratic and I tried to calm down.

“Mom, you’re spoiling his future by encouraging these fantasies of his. The only artists who earn anything substantial are the dead ones—”

Nana made a dismissive gesture at Dad and said, “He’s having a tantrum just like his father had.”

Dad told Mother. “If you told my Mom my stance—”

“You barked orders at me to not get him anything for his drawing or to speak about it, but he’ll go on doing it. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” Swallowing hard, Mother’s gaze darted over to me and she moved her head a fraction of an inch. “Get some sleep, Hunter.” Her tone was soft, yet sad. Dad strode behind her out of my room.

***

SOMETIME AFTER NANA HAD tucked me into bed, I went downstairs to the kitchen and had some cold milk with chocolate cookies. I’d checked to see if Chase had been awake, but he’d been sleeping. Chase and I had had our own rooms since pre-school. Dad had told us when we started school this year that we had come into this world together, but we had to strike out on our own. Chase was great in every position he’d tried on the football team.

“Can’t sleep?” Nana snuck up behind me, laughing. I blinked twice at the white face mask she had on her face and I wiped the milk from my mouth and nodded. I knew that she did a lot to maintain her fit skin, but she scared me. She hadn’t stepped out of her room before without her hair curled and her face made.

I shook my head as she leaned over the counter. I pushed the plate of cookies toward her, but she declined. “You won’t stop drawing because your Dad is pigheaded about it, right?”

“No, Nana,” I answered and she flashed me a grin. “I don’t hear him telling Chase to stop with football.”

She cleared her throat. “Now, I know you might not know what I mean at nine years old, but my Paps had told me when I was a little younger than you that a man who stands for nothing, will fall for anything. You’ve g

ot to believe in yourself, even when everyone wants to steer you in all these directions. Because if you don’t, you may wake up one morning and realize that it is too late to do some things. You might have too much going on and you can’t draw when inspiration strikes, or when you really need to so you can unload from your workday.” Nana cupped my chin and a low chuckle vibrated from her chest. “You’ll be my age faster than you think and there’s so much beauty out there to be captured. Don’t let your Dad knock you down. Go put them cookies away and come sleep with me.”

“I’m nine,” I said. “I am not a little boy.”

“I am seventy-two years young and I want one more memory to take with me when I go to my house tomorrow.”

***

THE NEXT MORNING, I reached my hand out for Nana’s rollers, like I used to do on purpose to see if she’d swat my hand or make Freddie Krueger noises. I moved on my side and she was sleeping. Past ten in the morning. I knew it was Saturday and we’d talked a little before we fell asleep. I touched her face and it was ice cold. Since she had on thick wool pajamas and was under the covers, my heart began to race.

“Nana!” I screamed, putting my hand underneath her nostrils and I felt nothing. Then I put my hand to her breastbone and her body was frozen. Mother and Dad were in the room by the time I shouted her name for the hundredth or so time. Vision blurred, tears flowed down my face and trickled onto her neck. I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted her to be normal again. I needed her to wake up and have breakfast with us before she went home.

“Nana’s in heaven right now,” Mother said, with panic in her voice as she tugged on my arm. “The ambulance will be here any minute.”

“Does Chase know?” I asked her when we were in the hallway sometime afterward.

“He’s in the room with Nana now, telling her goodbye,” she replied.

When we reached the stairs, Dad was coming up with the paramedics, his expression impassive. He didn’t cast a glance at Mother or I.

***

DAD AND MOTHER SENT Chase and I to school, even though we’d wanted to stay home with them while they made arrangements for Nana. It still wasn’t real to me that Nana wouldn’t visit us again.

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