Page 36 of The Singing Trees
Annalisa painted more than ever, wishing she could leap forward in time to her graduation. She’d been so caught up in the news lately, and in attempting to understand it, that most of her newer ideas came from real life. She captured a group of protesters going up against the police in Boston. Still wrestling with her feelings about the draft, she painted Nixon having his head shaved. She’d seen enough images of soldiers in Vietnam that she painted them, too, imagining their daily lives in a far-off land.
Wishing she had more access to the outside world of art, Annalisa counted the days leading up to the art show in April that Jackie had mentioned, the one run by Sharon Maxwell, the abstract expressionist and teacher at the Portland School of Fine and Applied Art. More than anything, she needed to see and experience some great pieces firsthand. Enough with all the books.
On the third Saturday in February, Annalisa agreed to take the day off so that Thomas could take her skiing. Though she didn’t want to lose the money from skipping a shift, the idea of skiing for the first time won out. Besides, between painting, schoolwork, and afternoon and weekend shifts at Harry’s General Store, she needed a break.
Wearing her heavy jacket, she slipped out the door and shook her head when she saw that the snow had already covered up the walkway that she’d shoveled an hour earlier. What was the point? At least they didn’t have a car, or Nonna would have made her shovel the entire driveway.
Two sets of skis were strapped to the top of his Beetle, and he wore a ski hat and white wool sweater. Jumping inside, she gave him a quick kiss, hoping Nonna wasn’t staring out the window. Her grandmother seemed to be coming around as far as Thomas was concerned—at least she hadn’t said anything discouraging lately—but Annalisa didn’t want to get a lesson about the birds and the bees when she returned that night.
As they left the neighborhood, she said, “I forgot to tell you, my cousin Michael, the one with the low draft number? He enlisted in the navy today.” Men with Thomas’s birthday had been called up three days earlier, so this was a hot topic between them. Thank God, as Thomas had promised her, his deferment had kept him safe.
“I don’t blame him,” Thomas said flatly. “Why wait until his number’s called?”
Everyone knew that enlisting, as opposed to waiting for a draft notice, gave young men a better chance at surviving the war. Draftedmen most often went straight to the front lines in the army, whereas the enlisted men could pick and choose their trajectory, and very often secure a safer path.
“Exactly,” Annalisa agreed, wondering if she detected something off in his tone. She noticed he was driving slower than usual too. “So what’s going on with you? You know, you’re terrible at hiding it when something’s wrong.”
Thomas cast a serious glance her way. “You won’t believe this.”
Her excitement about learning to ski hit the floorboard. “These days, I’ll believe just about anything.”
He didn’t speak until he’d reached a stop sign. “My dad says he’s cutting me off and that I have to be out of the house by the end of the semester if you and I keep seeing each other. He even threatened taking away my inheritance.”
Annalisa’s jaw instantly tightened. “What? Are you kidding me?”
He nodded, not moving on from their position. “He says I have to end it by summer, says if I keep supporting this relationship and choose distraction, then he isn’t going to support me.”
Annalisa threw her hands up into the air as a bitter taste hit her tongue. “How does he even know we’re still together? Has he hired a private investigator?”
“No,” he said with disgust, watching a car pass by them in the other lane. “I told him. I’m tired of keeping us a secret. And you know what? If he doesn’t want to support me, I don’t need it.”
Was she truly such a bad person, a bad match for Thomas, that his father would attempt to destroy his son’s life over it? Screw Mr.Barnes for such judgment. What a small-minded jerk. Could he not see how wonderful a man Thomas was? Couldn’t he trust his son’s decisions?
“I’m so sorry,” Annalisa finally said, wishing life didn’t have to be so cruel.
He side-eyed her and nearly hissed out, “What’s there to be sorry for? That my dad’s an asshole? You have nothing to do with that.”
Annalisa kept quiet and ended up staring at the dashboard until he pulled away, driving them away from town. As much as she was giving to this relationship, doing everything she could to let her walls down, it was moments like this that felt like a huge step backward.
The energy in the car tightened with Thomas’s anger. Was this how it all began? Were they getting in each other’s way?
“What if I transferred to UMPG?” he asked, knocking the wind right out of her. UMPG was the public university in Portland.
“You can’t drop out of Weston,” Annalisa said, thinking about his deferment.
His forearms tensed as he gripped the steering wheel hard. “I absolutely can. Matter of fact, I couldn’t afford it without my parents’ help anyway.”
Trying to soften him, she placed a hand on his leg and asked quietly, “What about a scholarship?”
He calmed down some. “They won’t give me one at Weston, but I can easily get one at UMPG. That’s what I’m saying.”
Her heart sank at the idea that she might be the reason he lost his dream of dental school or of an inheritance. What if they broke up after moving there? He couldn’t change his life because of her. The pressure alone could be like an iceberg poking at the hull of their relationship.
“You’d be foolish to leave one of the best schools in New England—maybe even the country—to move to Portland. And what about your sister?” The trees were getting taller and the buildings sparser.
He pressed down the gas pedal, suddenly racing toward Sugarloaf. “My father thinks I’d be stupid, but from where I’m standing, stupid would be choosing my education and inheritance over you.”
She didn’t know what to say, flattered but afraid at the same time.
