Page 50 of Unwanted Vows

“Speaking of clean-up,” Rylie says, “Don’t pour your paint water down the sink, Paul. Put it in a utility bucket and put it down the filtered drain in the courtyard.”

“Okay,” Paul says, already rolling out one of his favorite posters onto the pick-up surface of the projector.

Rylie goes over and helps him position it, and focus the projection onto one of the wall mounted pads of paper. “I’d suggest using a soft graphite to outline the picture,” she says, picking up one out of the art box and demonstrating how to hold it.

With the master artist supervising the junior artist, the rest of us slid out of the room and left them to their work.

“You could not have given him a better gift,” I say to Andrew. “Thank you. All of you. But how did you know?”

“Any kid who collects art catalogs has a real love of making stuff,” Andrew says.

“Rylie used to sneak paints and colors in her room because our mother didn’t approve. She absolutely threw a fit when Rylie won a scholarship and enrolled herself in the New York School of Visual Arts. When Rylie started designing clothes for herself and her friends, Mother had a hard time deciding whether to be horrified or proud of her.”

“Which won out?” I ask.

Andrew shakes his head. “No idea. I went to Africa, then Mom and Dad drowned. But I think she was mostly proud.”

Austin adds, “Rylie is delighted to have another artist to teach. She had such a good time helping Julia. I think she was a little disappointed when Judy-Rudy used her skills to draw anatomy, and then went to med school.”

I have the feeling that I am swimming out of my depth. “I can’t imagine keeping a child from doing something they enjoy so much, especially since it is harmless.”

“Mostly harmless,” Austin says. “Rylie was careful in selecting the paints, but most of them are not intended for use on the human body. She did put in some body paint and some soap crayons – just for fun.”

I laugh. “I won’t ask, but I did notice that the surround in the bath is white.”

Austin grins. “Probably won’t stay that way long. Rylie still loves to decorate the surround – I never know what I’ll find when I go in there.”

As if her name called her, Rylie slipped out of Paul’s room, closing the door behind her. “He’s got the hang of it,” she says. “Now it’s time to let him explore on his own. The rug and spread are both washable, and most of the paints will come out of fabric with regular soap and water.”

“Thank you,” I say. “And not just for that. Paul loves to draw. I could never afford the big art sets, so he’s had to make do with regular school supplies.”

“He seems to be enjoying himself,” Rylie says.

“Don’t worry about damage to the room,” Charles adds. “When the two of you move into your own place, everything will be redone for the next resident. I just hope it is big enough.”

I glance over at Andrew, who is keeping his face impassive. “It will be fine,” I say. “At least I don’t have to worry about a long commute to work.”

“Very true,” Charles says. “Which was the whole idea of setting this up. Secure, safe, and convenient.”

“We should be going,” Austin says. “I have a meeting in thirty minutes. Do you want to ride with me, Rylie?”

“Of course,” she says, smiling warmly at her husband.

“I need to be going, too,” Charles says. “We can let ourselves out.”

The door closed behind them and the movers. We were alone in the apartment except for one absorbed young artist.

Andrew and I look at each other. “Now what?” he asks.

“We have the rest of the day off,” I say.

“Make some lunch then hide in our room?” Andrew asks.

“We could do that,” I say. The thought of an afternoon without interruptions did have its appeal. “But what about Paul?”

“Feed him, give him the remote so he can access all the channels on the TV, and our phone numbers. Then lock the door to our room,” Andrew says. “We’ll be reachable, but not visible.”

I nibble on my thumb cuticle, still not sure. “Is this good parenting?” I ask rhetorically.

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