Page 17 of The Singing Trees
“What’s your thing then?”
“Isn’t that the question? I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Not that I’m as studied or into art as you,” Thomas admitted, “but I don’t get still lifes either.” In a geeky and nasally voice, he said, “Here’s a painting of a bowl of fruit. Enjoy!”
They laughed together. “Yeah, I know. They can be boring. My mom did have a way with them, though.”
He looked over until she met his eyes. “So you’re a seeker, then, as far as art goes? Trying to find what Annalisa Mancuso is meant to paint.”
How astute of him. “That’s why I want to get out of here, to get a taste of...I don’t know, a wider world.”
He switched lanes to pass another car. “I admire that about you,” he confessed, looking at her a little longer this time. “I don’t know that I’ve ever known an artist before, like one who actually takes it seriously. You’re going to be a big deal one day. I could see your dedication at the museum, and I can hear it in your words now. I dig it.”
As they drew closer to the Mills, she steered the conversation toward him. He told her about hoping to attend the NYU College of Dentistry after Weston, despite his father wanting him to join the family law firm.
“The last thing I want to do is sit in a courtroom all day,” he said, glancing over so much now that she wondered if he might drive off the road. “Or work with my father and grandfather, two of the most difficult men on earth. All they do is argue; I’m sure that’s half the reason my dad comes home being an asshole. Representing criminals all your life starts to consume your morals.”
Unable to resist, she kept sneaking peeks at him, wondering if he was really this good of a guy. “So your sister doesn’t want to join the firm?”
Thomas shook his head so quickly she thought he might hurt himself. “For reasons I don’t want to get into, my father and sister don’t get along, so she wouldn’t join his firm for anything in the world, not that he’d letanywoman join his firm, for that matter. It’s an all-boys club at Barnes and Barnes.”
Annalisa found herself worried about the girl. “What’s going on with her?”
Thomas slowed to a stop at an intersection. Only a few more miles to go. “Ever since she was ten or eleven she’s been pretty down, butsome family stuff made it all worse. And the kids at school are mean to her, which doesn’t help. She can’t seem to get a break.”
“Why are the kids like that?” Annalisa asked. What was it with people? Had it not been for Nino always sticking up for her and including her, she might have been in a similar situation when she’d first moved to the Mills.
He turned left and shifted into a higher gear. “She doesn’t have the whole social interaction thing down and never fails to say the wrong thing. Like, I don’t know. She’s that person that makes a joke and no one laughs. She’s honest to a fault, so no one wants to be friends with her. She literally sits by herself at lunch—not like she eats anyway.”
“That’s so sad,” Annalisa said, knowing exactly what that was like, the not eating, the wanting to be alone. “Being a girl at fourteen isn’t easy.”
“Yeah, I guess it all starts at home with my parents. My dad can be the biggest jerk in Davenport. Can be. Is. One of the two. Depending on the time of day and the quantity of pills or martinis flowing through her veins, my mom bounces somewhere between being his cheerleader and his punching bag—not literally, but you know what I mean.”
Yes, she did know what he meant.
“Anyway, that’s way more than you want to know.”
“We have a lot in common,” she admitted, “especially when it comes to fathers.” Her mother never abused alcohol or drugs—in fact, she would have killed Annalisa for tonight—but Celia Mancuso had certainly played her role as a punching bag for the last part of her life. Clearly Annalisa wasn’t the only one who had it rough.
He was driving much slower than he had been, and she wondered if he was taking his time on purpose. In fact, she didn’t recognize a couple of the roads and wondered if he was extending the drive. She wasn’t exactly bothered.
“Emma’s just always been so up and down,” he said. “Sometimes I think she’s strong enough to take on the world, but then she’ll turn ona dime. My parents don’t know how to handle her, so it’s been up to me lately. That’s why I haven’t moved out yet. She needs me.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” Annalisa couldn’t imagine what she would have done if Nonna hadn’t been there to scoop her up.
“I don’t mean it like that, like I’m some sort of saint. I’ve had no choice, really. We had some things go down in our family, and I’m trying to help her work through it before I move on. I probably should stop there, though. As a lawyer’s son, I’ve just laid out a pretty good case why you should steer clear of me.”
She noticed they were finally back in civilization as they passed another gas station and hardware store. “No judgment here. Who doesn’t have family issues?” More and more, he reminded her of Nino, a man with a kind heart and, perhaps, even good intentions.
When they crossed the bridge into Payton Mills, Annalisa glanced over at the mill, thinking that her father had been a charming guy just like Thomas—but he’d changed.
Sure, Thomas might be nice and handsome and potentially genuine, but she could guess what would happen if she let it go any further. They might date for a minute, even have some fun. Who knows how long they might last? By the end, though, their relationship would end up in a ravine, literally or figuratively, and she’d be holding an empty orange tote with a nonexistent portfolio, wondering how she’d let her dream melt away.
They drove along Main Street through the quaint and quiet downtown. They passed Harry’s General Store, which was wedged between a salon and a casual restaurant called the River Place, with the best fried fish and clams in town. She didn’t mention that she worked at Harry’s. He’d probably show up for a scoop the next day.
Once through town, Annalisa directed him through the neighborhoods toward her house. When they were two houses down, she asked him to stop. “I can get out here. That’s me down there.”
“You don’t want me to walk you in?”
