“That’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I snickered. “Graham Cracker, I’m sure.”
He didn’t display any emotion, only one nod. “I’ll set the table.”
His dining room table was ridiculously large, big enough to seat twelve people. He set the plating and silverware at each end of the table, and he motioned for me to take a seat. It was hauntingly quiet as he served the meal, and he took his seat at the other end.
There weren’t many lights in Graham’s home, and oftentimes the shades were drawn, not letting much sunlight through at all. His furniture was dark too, and sparse. In his whole home, I was certain I was the brightest item to exist with my colorful clothing and outrageous, wild blond hair.
“The weather’s nice outside, ya know, for a spring day in Wisconsin,” I said after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. Weather talk was the blandest of bland, but it was all I could think of. In the past, that flavor of small talk had always helped ease any situation.
“Is it?” he muttered, uninterested. “I haven’t been out.”
“Oh. Well, it is.”
He didn’t comment at all, just kept eating his dinner.
Hmph.
“Have you thought about putting a garden outside?” I asked. “It’s the perfect time to start planting stuff, and you have such a beautiful backyard. All it would need is a bit of a trim and you could really brighten the place up.”
“I’m not interested in that. It’s a waste of money.”
“Oh. Well, okay.”
Hmph.
“Ollie seems sweet,” I mentioned, trying one last time. “He’s quite the guy, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine for what he is,” he muttered.
I tilted my head, watching his stare, applying the tip Ollie had shared with me. “You really care for him, don’t you?”
“He was my college professor and now serves as my writing coach—nothing more, nothing less.”
“I heard you laughing with him. You don’t really laugh with a lot of people, but I heard you laughing with him. I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”
“I don’t.”
“Right, of course,” I agreed, knowing he was lying. “But it did seem as if you two were close.”
He didn’t reply, and that was the end of our discussion. We continued dinner in silence, and when the baby monitor alerted us of Talon crying, we both leaped up to go check on her.
“I’ll get her,” we said in unison.
“No, I—” he started, but I shook my head.
“That’s why I’m here, remember? Finish your meal, and thank you for sharing it with me.”
He nodded, and I went to check on Talon. Her eyes were wide and she stopped crying, the tears replaced by a small smile on her face. It was what I imagined Graham’s grin would look like. As I prepared a bottle for her and began feeding her, Graham entered the room and leaned against the doorframe.
“Is she all right?” he asked.
“Just hungry.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Professor Oliver has a loud personality. He’s forward, talkative, and full of nonsense ninety-nine percent of the time. I have no clue how his wife or his daughter put up with his ridiculousness and wild antics. For a man in his eighties, he acts like a child, and oftentimes appears like a well-educated clown.”
“Oh.” Well, at least I knew he disliked everyone equally as much as he seemed to dislike me.
Graham’s head lowered and he stared at his fingers, which he latched together. “And he’s the best man and friend I’ve ever known.”
He turned and walked away without another word, and just like that, for a small fraction of a second, Graham Russell showed me a glimpse of his heart.
Around eleven that night, I finished cleaning up Talon’s room and headed to Graham’s office where he was writing, his focus completely zoomed in on his words.
“Hey, I’m heading home.”
He took a beat, finished typing his sentence, and turned to face me. “Thank you for your time, Lucille.”
“Of course. Oh, and just a heads-up, on Friday I don’t think I can make it. My boyfriend is having an art show, so I’ll have to be there.”
“Oh,” he said, a small twitch finding his bottom lip. “Okay.”
I tossed my purse strap over my shoulder. “You know, if you want, you can bring Talon to the show. It might be nice to get her out and about to places other than the doctor’s office.”
“I can’t. I have to finish these next few chapters by Saturday.”
“Oh, okay…well, have a great night.”
“What time?” he said right as I stepped into the hallway.
“Hmm?”
“What time is the show?”
A lump of hope formed in my gut. “Eight o’clock, at the art museum.”
He nodded once. “I might finish early. Fancy attire?”
I couldn’t even hold the smile to myself. “Black tie.”
“Noted.” He must’ve noticed my excitement because he narrowed his eyes. “It’s not a promise that I’ll make it. I just prefer to be informed in case I do attend.”
“No, of course. I’ll put you on the guest list, just in case.”
“Good night, Lucille.”
“Good night, Graham Cracker.”
As I walked away, I couldn’t help but think about the way the evening had progressed. To the average person, his interactions would’ve seemed normal at best, but I knew for Graham, it had been an extraordinary day.
Sure, he hadn’t given me a guarantee that he’d make it to the show, but there was a small chance. If this was the man he became after a visit from Professor Oliver, I secretly prayed he’d stop by each day.
There were small moments that I sometimes witnessed with Graham as he cared for his daughter. Those moments were what I held onto when he was colder than cold. Oftentimes I’d walk in on him shirtless, lying on the couch with Talon in his arms. Each day he did the kangaroo care, out of fear of not bonding with Talon. But they were bonded more than he could’ve noticed. She adored him, just as he adored her. Once as I rested in the living room, I overheard him on the baby monitor speaking to his daughter as he tried to soothe her crying.
“You are loved, Talon. I promise to always take care of you. I promise to be better for you.”
He would’ve never showed that side of his heart if he was standing near me. He would’ve never been seen in such a vulnerable state of mind. Yet the fact that he wasn’t afraid to love his daughter so carefully in the quietness of his home, lit me up inside. It turned out the beast wasn’t such a monster after all. He was simply a man who’d been hurt in the past and was slowly opening back up due to the love of his daughter.
I arrived at the museum a little after eight due to a late floral delivery, and when I walked in wearing my sparkly purple dress, I was shocked by the amount of people already there. Richard’s display was in the west end of the museum, and the individuals who’d shown up were dressed as if they were at the Met Gala in New York City.
I’d found my dress on sale at Target.
My eyes darted around the room in search of Richard, and when I spotted him, I hurried over. “Hey.” I smiled, stepping into the conversation he was having with two women about a piece of his artwork. The women were stunning in their red and gold gowns that traveled to the floor. Their hair was pinned up perfectly and their makeup was flawless.
Richard looked up at me and gave me a half smile. “Hey, hey, you made it. Stacy, Erin, this is Lucy.”
The two ladies eyed me up and down as I eased my way closer to Richard and held my hand out to each of them. “His girlfriend.”
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Richie,” Erin said, shaking my hand with a look of distaste on her lips.
“Me neither,” Stacy replied.
“Of five years,” I gritted through my teeth, trying my best to give a fake smile.
“Oh,” they said in
unison, disbelief dripping from the word.
Richard cleared his throat, placed his hand on my lower back, and started to guide me away. “Ladies, go grab yourselves a drink. I’m going to show Lucy around a bit.”
They walked off, and Richard slightly leaned in to me. “What was that about?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to play off the fact that I had not been completely normal in that interaction.
“Your whole, ‘this is my man, back off, bitches’ persona back there.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, standing up straighter. I wasn’t a jealous girl, but the feeling those ladies had given me was so uncomfortable; it was as if they were displeased by my whole existence.
“It’s fine, really,” Richard said, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a pocket cloth. “Your dress is short,” he mentioned, looking around the room.
I spun a bit. “Do you like it?”
“It’s short, that’s all. Plus, your high heels are bright yellow and really tall. You’re taller than me.”
“And that’s an issue?”
“It just makes me feel a bit undermined, is all. When I introduce you, I’ll look like the small guy next to his giant girlfriend.”
“It’s only a few inches.”
“But still, it’s belittling.”
I wasn’t sure how to take his words, and before I could reply, he commented on my hair.
“And there are rose petals in your hair.”
I smiled and patted the flower crown I’d crafted at the floral shop before I came. It was made up of roses, tulips, and baby’s breath, and it sat on top of my hair, which was placed in a big French braid that lay over my left shoulder. “Do you like it?” I asked.
“It just seems a bit childish,” he replied, placing his glasses back on. “I just…I thought I told you how important this event is to me, Lucy. To my career.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I know. Richard, this is all amazing. What you’ve done is amazing.”
“Yeah, but it just looks a bit odd for you to arrive dressed in such a way.”
My lips parted, uncertain what to say, but before I could reply, he excused himself, saying he needed to go say hello to some very important people.
Clearing my throat, I walked off by myself and wandered around the room before eventually making my way to the bar, where a nice gentleman smiled at me. “Hey there, what can I get you?”
“A different dress,” I joked. “And maybe a shorter pair of heels.”
“You look beautiful,” he remarked. “And between you and me, I think you’re the best dressed in the room, but what do I know? I’m just a bartender, not an artist.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I’ll just take a water with a lemon slice for now.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want vodka? This seems like a room that needs serious quantities of vodka.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “While I agree, I think I’m already drawing enough attention to myself. No need to allow the drunken version of myself to escape.” I thanked him for the ice water, and when I turned around, I saw the back of a man standing in front of one of Richard’s paintings. Beside him sat a car seat that held the most beautiful child in the world. A wave of comfort washed through me at seeing them before me. It was hard to explain how seeing those two familiar faces brought me a level of confidence.
“You made it,” I exclaimed, going over to Talon and bending down to lightly kiss her forehead.
Graham turned my way just a bit before looking back at the painting. “We did.” He stood tall in an all-black suit with a deep gray tie and gray cuffs. His shoes were shiny, as if freshly polished for the gala. His hair was slicked back with a bit of gel, and his beard was nicely groomed.
“Does that mean you finished your chapters?”
He shook his head once. “I’ll finish once I get home.”
My chest tightened. He hadn’t even finished his work, but he’d still made time to make an appearance.
“Lucille?”
“Yes?”
“Why am I staring at a twelve-by-twelve-foot painting of your naked boyfriend?”
I giggled to myself, sipping my water. “It’s a self-discovery collection where Richard dived deep to express his inner thoughts, fears, and beliefs through how he sees himself using different mediums, such as clay, charcoal, and pastels.”
Graham glanced around the room at the rest of Richard’s self-portraits and clay creations. “Is that a six-foot-tall statue of his penis?” he asked.
I nodded uncomfortably. “That is indeed a six-foot-tall statue of his penis.”
“Hmph. He’s quite confident in his”—he tilted his head slightly and cleared his throat—“manhood.”
“I like to believe confidence is my middle name,” Richard joked, walking up to our conversation. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Oh yes, right, sorry. Richard, this is Graham. Graham, this is Richard.”
“Lucy’s boyfriend,” Richard said with a bit of bite to his words as he reached out to shake Graham’s hand. “So you’re the one who’s been stealing my girlfriend’s time day and night, huh?”
“More so Talon than myself,” he replied, dry as ever.
“And you’re an author?” Richard asked, knowing very well that Graham was indeed G.M. Russell. “I’m sorry, I’m not exactly sure I’ve heard of your novels. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything you’ve published.” He was being oddly aggressive, making the whole situation uncomfortable.
“That’s fine,” Graham responded. “Enough other people have, so your lack of awareness doesn’t inflict any damage on my success.”
Richard laughed obnoxiously loud and slugged Graham in the shoulder. “That’s funny.” He chuckled awkwardly then slid his hands into his pockets. Richard’s eyes traveled to the glass in my hand and he raised an eyebrow. “Vodka?”
I shook my head. “Water.”
“Good, good. It’s probably best for you to not drink tonight, right, sweetheart?”
I gave him a tight smile, but didn’t reply.
Graham grimaced. “Why’s that?” he asked.
“Oh, well, when Lucy drinks, she becomes a bit…goofy. Very talkative, if you can believe it. It’s like it heightens all of her quirks, and it can be a lot to handle at times.”
“She seems grown-up enough to make her own choices,” Graham countered.
“And her choice was not to drink tonight,” Richard replied, smiling.
“I’m sure she can speak for herself,” Graham said, his voice cold. “After all, she was given her own vocal cords.”
“Yes, but she would’ve just said exactly what I have stated.”
Graham gave a forced, tight grin. It was the unhappiest smile I’d ever witnessed in my lifetime. “Please excuse me, I must go someplace other than right here,” Graham coldly stated, lifting the car seat and walking off.
“Wow.” Richard whistled low. “What an asshole.”
I lightly pushed his shoulder. “What was that? You were a bit aggressive, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’m sorry. I just don’t know how comfortable I am with you being at his place all the time.”
“I’m there helping taking care of Talon, who is my niece, my family. You know this.”
“Yeah, but you seem to have left out the fact that he looks like a freaking Greek god, Lucy. I mean, Jesus Christ, what kind of author has arms the size of the Titanic?” Richard exclaimed, his jealousy loud and clear.
“He works out when he has writer’s block.”
“There must be a lot blocking that writer. Anyway, come over here. There are some people I need you to meet.” He took my arm and started pulling me forward. When I turned around to check on Graham, he was sitting on a bench, holding Talon and staring my way. His stare was intense, as if his mind was running with a million thoughts.
Richard took me around the room, introducing me to a bunch of people who were
dressed much fancier than me. Every time, he’d speak about my outfit, mentioning how it was quirky, like my heart. He said it with a smile, but I could sense the frown underneath it.
“Can I take a break?” I asked after speaking to a woman who looked at me as if I were trash.
“Just two more people. This is important—they are the couple to talk to tonight.”
Apparently my break would have to wait.
“Mr. and Mrs. Peterson,” Richard said, reaching his hand out for handshakes. “I’m so happy you could make it.”
“Please, don’t be so formal, Richard. Just call us Warren and Catherine,” the gentleman said as they both greeted us with warm smiles.
“Right, of course. Again, I’m so happy you’re here.”
Catherine wore a fur shawl around her shoulders, and her body was decked out in expensive jewelry, making her smile shine even more. Her lips were painted fuchsia, and she carried herself as if she were royalty.
“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Richard. And you must be Lucy.” She grinned and took my hand in hers. “I’ve been asking a lot about the lady in this talented man’s life.”
“That’s me.” I laughed unenthusiastically, tugging on the bottom of my dress with my free hand, hoping Richard wouldn’t comment on it. “I’m sorry, how do you both know—”
“Mr. Pet—Warren is one of the greatest artists in the world, and he’s from Milwaukee, Lucy,” Richard explained. “I’ve told you about him many times.”
“No,” I said softly. “I’m not sure you have.”
“Yes, I have. I’m sure you’ve just forgotten.”
Warren chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Lucy. My own wife forgets me about fifty times a day—isn’t that right, Catherine?”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Catherine joked, winking at her husband. While they were nothing but pleasant, I could tell Richard was somewhat annoyed with me, though I was certain I’d never heard of them.
“So, Richard, what’s the next step in your career?” Warren asked.
“Well, I was invited to a showcase in New York City by a friend of mine,” he stated.
“Oh?” I asked, surprised to just be hearing about it right then. “I had no clue.”
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