Page 94 of Drawing Home
“No, hon. Of course I don’t mind that you spend time with him. It’s just that we’re trying to work out a schedule.”
“So why are you so stressed out?”
Shockingly, her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not,” she said.
“Mom!” Penny leaned across the bed and hugged her mother, who sagged against her like a wilting plant.
“I’m just tired,” her mother said.Lie.
“Come on, Mom. For real.”
Her mother lowered her head and rubbed her brow. “Your father thinks maybe you’d be better off living with him more of the time. Maybe all of the time.”
Penny blinked for a few seconds, absorbing this. “Okay, that’s crazy. He doesn’t even live here.”
“Well, maybe he plans to.”
“I don’t want to live with him. I mean, it’s fun to see him and hang out but…”
“I know it’s unreasonable. But that’s what we’re discussing. So if I seem a little tense, it’s because I’m trying to make him understand that it’s not a good idea.”
Her mom was clearly worked up, and Penny had a sudden and terrible thought.
“This is because of the boat accident, isn’t it? He blames you.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s because of that.”
But Penny knew that this time, she really was lying.
So, all things considered, it was hard for Penny to be excited about the fireworks. Besides, she was okay with the crutches at home or on the Main Street sidewalk, but on the grass surrounded by crowds of people? She’d be lucky to hobble far enough to find a spot to sit down.
She wondered if any of the other kids would be out this year. She’d spoken to Robin once since the night of the accident, and that was enough for her. Every time she thought about Robin and Mindy, it just brought back all her guilt over lying to her mother and getting into trouble. And now, thinking that all of that might be the cause of the problems between her parents, she was even less interested in those girls.
Her mother knocked on the doorway of her bedroom. She had a stuffed bag over her shoulder, a beach blanket poking out.
“I’m not really in the mood for fireworks,” Penny said.
“Neither am I. But we’re going.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s tradition.”
With everyone at the waterfront for the fireworks, Bea decided to make good use of her precious solitude by doing a little snooping.
The curiosity was just killing her. What was the girl drawing, day in and day out? After a lifetime of sniffing out talent, of homing in on art like a fly drawn to honey, Bea couldn’t very well stop herself from looking now.
She crept down the hall slowly, quietly, even though no one was around to hear her.Can’t be too careful,she told herself.
The bedroom door was open.
Penny was surprisingly neat. What had she expected? Clothes strewn everywhere. Candy wrappers. Who knew? She’d never lived with a child before. But the room looked almost the way it had before the Mapsons moved in. The bed was made, the nightstand had only a few personal items on it—some scattered hairbands, a mini-bottle of hand sanitizer, a tube of lip gloss with a pink cap shaped like a cat’s head, and a laptop computer.
Bea sat on the bed. Behind her, on the wall, was some sort of collage, a rainbow of Post-its scrawled with notes likeMade progress on the novel! Mom brought home BuddhaBerry!
Oh, Bea hated being old. But fourteen—well, that hadn’t been a picnic either. The whole world wasalmostopen to you. How dazzling the possibilities; how frustrating the limitations! She would never forget the feeling on the casino lawn the night of the Newport Jazz Festival. She had been just shy of Penny’s age when she’d decided she wanted to move to New York City someday. Funny, Penny expressed the same intense desire to get out of her hometown. Maybe that’s why Bea felt a grudging affinity with the girl. That and, of course, the drawing.
Bea sighed and leaned against the pile of throw pillows. Under the small of her back, she felt something poking her, and she reached behind to find a graphite pencil. Well, the girl wasn’t so meticulous after all. How could she leave a pencil in her white bedding? Very careless.
