Page 41 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“Would you like to draw?” I asked and watched his eyes gleam.

“Come with me.”

He looked at his mom.

“It’s alright, Bryson.”

“Catch your breath,” I said to Amanda.

With a huff, she flopped down on the couch.

Bryson held my hand and followed me to a table by a large window. Propping him up on a chair, I pulled out paper, pencils, and oil pastels from my bag. Beautiful city lights twinkled outside. The Bank of America Plaza was lit up tall and proud, and the Fountain Place stood out in its distinctive shape. The Reunion Tower was slightly hidden from this vantage point, but its glory remained unfettered.

I had loved my job as an art tutor in India and had continued to volunteer at my local public libraries. There was nothing more beautiful than seeing the world through the art of a child. “What do you want to draw, Bryson?”

“I wan draw circle,” he said confidently.

“That’s good! Here, take this pencil and draw a circle. Let me know if you need help, okay?”

He nodded and gripped the pencil in his fist, making curves on the paper.

“That’s good. Can you draw another?”

He threw in more curves, squiggly lines, and a partially decent circle. Then we filled the shapes with color as the party moved along. Mihir joined us, and Bryson pointed to several drawings and shared their stories. I understood about half of what he said. The baby talk garbled the rest. When Bryson was tired, Mihir helped me clean up, and we moved back to the living area. But the kid refused to leave my side, resisting his mother’s attempts to take him to bed. I settled down beside Amanda, and he slipped between us. As he began to recline against me, I caressed his light-colored tresses with faint shhh sounds. In about two minutes, he was fast asleep with his head in my lap.

“You’re very good with kids,” Amanda whispered, gushing with gratitude.

“I have a lot of friends with kids.” I smiled back at her, and then my eyes caught Sameer, watching me intently from across the room.

“We’ll put him inside,” Amanda said, nodding at Ben to take him.

“I can take him, if you don’t mind,” I offered.

With the slight boy cradled in my arms, I followed Sameer down the hall to the guest room, where he turned on a quiet lamp. I walked around him to the bed, laid the boy down, and tucked him under a light blanket. He wriggled but didn’t wake up. As I turned around, Sameer blocked my way, standing so close I could see the individual hairs in his stubble. His eyes glowed like fire in the soft light. I clutched my dress for a small second.

“What’s this new game, Tara?” he growled in my face.

“Game? What game? Showing affection to a little kid is a game for you rich folks?”

His eyes continued to burn amber. I turned my head to look at the child, cozy in sweet slumber. “Or are you embarrassed that I look like a dark-skinned nanny to a rich, white kid?”

His mouth dropped.

“Oh, is that what’s really bothering you? You’re ashamed of how your rich friends might perceive me?” I stepped toward him. “I’m not of your world, Sameer. I don’t share your values, I don’t have to play by your rules.”

“Dammit, Tara, stop trying to pick a fight every time we talk.” He blew out an angry breath.

I smirked. “See you around, Sameer.”

“Tara.” I heard his soft voice when I reached the door.

“Let it go.”

“What the hell are you doing with Mihir? Enough with these ridiculous games. If you want me, just come out and say it.”

I turned around and whispered, “I did, and you flew out of my arms to rush back to Aarti.”

“Don’t do this, Tara. You know—”

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