Page 17 of Free to Believe
“I’m going to go to Rhode Island School of Design for their apparel design program. You know RISD, right?” she announces proudly.
She would have shocked me less if she hit me with a two-by-four. Fashion? My torn T-shirt and Army-pant-wearing daughter wants to go to school for fashion? What a load of crap. “Like hell you are!” I roar.
“Dad!”
* * *
Jennaand I continue to argue until she storms off. After she hops on her scooter to go to work, I head to the basement of my cousin’s house. I need music therapy right now desperately.
Luckily, when Dani moved in, the old cinema that used to be here was converted to a music space both her fiancé and I could happily spend every waking moment in. Sitting down at the perfectly tuned baby grand piano, I warm up my hands by playing run after run of scales. Up and down the beautiful ivory keys, my fingers fly at a speed indicative of my mood. Sometimes it’s languid and slow, sometimes it’s bouncy and joyful. Today, my fingers are crashing down on the keys like I’m trying to drill them through the handcrafted base that holds them.
Soon, I’m lost in the wonders of Chopin and Schubert. My emotions begin to settle when my phone buzzes on top of the piano indicating a FaceTime call. I slam my hands down in the middle of Chopin’s 12 Etudes, Op. 10: No.12 In C Minor. There’s only one person who persistently wants to FaceTime me.
“What do you want, Danielle? Still having problems convincing your favorite designer to make your latest red-carpet fashion statement for you?” I snap rudely.
“No, but I wouldn’t ask her. She’s having some personal problems. Anyway, did I interrupt you in the middle of playing with your toys in the music room again?” she coos. Most men would be brought to their knees by the sheer beauty of the woman on the other end of the line. To me, supermodel Danielle Madison has been, and always will be, a royal pain in my ass. Then again, when you’re raised next door to each other by fathers who are twins, it’s more like having an annoying younger sister you just can’t get rid of.
“It’s been a day,” I grit out. “Jenna is trying my last nerve, and we still have almost two months before school starts.”
“What happened?” she asks, her brow lowering to a V.
Dani loves Jenna as much as if she were her own, so I know the concern is genuine. I recount our conversation including her latest whim about becoming a fashion designer when she’s never expressed any sort of interest in it before. When I get to that part of the story, Dani’s face goes blank.
“Jake, you know I love to disagree with you just for the sake of it. But…” Her voice trails off.
An unsettled feeling lodges in my stomach. “What is it?”
“She’s been interested in design for a while. I have hundreds of emails from Jenna about the business.”
I gape at her. “She can always talk with me!” I exclaim.
Dani looks at me knowingly. “How did you react to the hair chalk?”
My lips press together.
“Did you know that people at her job have been doing this for months and have been on her case because she hasn’t tried it yet? Did you know she’s petrified to ask you to change anything about how she looks because she’s afraid you only see her as a little girl and won’t let her grow up? I’ve said this before, Jake. She’s maturing. Changing. She has questions. Now she’s coming to me with them.”
That unsettled feeling in my gut just exploded into a rancid nausea threatening my lunch from coming back up. “What do I do, Dani?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t work that out for you. All I can do is be there for both of you the way I am now. The way I always will be.”
I lean my elbows on the keys of the piano and a discordant sound comes out. Resting my eyes in the heels of my hand, I whisper, “Thanks.”
“I wasn’t just calling to say hi though.”
Pulling one hand away, I catch Dani biting her lower lip—a sure tell. “What did you do?”
“That designer with the problems I was telling you about? She needs a place to get away for a little while.” Lord help me. This is the last thing I need right now.
I jump to my feet. “Oh, come on! You promised until Jenna and I worked things out, there would be no renting of the apartment to any strangers.”
“I’m not renting it, and this person isn’t a stranger. She’s a wonderful person. She’s just taken a lot of hard knocks lately.”
“Just like everyone else in the world,” I say bitterly. “So, in addition to a hormonal teenage girl…”
“Young woman,” Dani corrects me irritably.
“Young woman,” I parrot in her higher-pitched voice. Reverting to my own, I continue. “I now need to look out for a woman who’s emotionally unstable?”
