by ANDREA SMITH
My dad popped the lid on the trunk of his rental car, and hoisted my suitcases into it, having to do some arranging to fit them all inside. It wasn’t that I had a lot of clothes, I mean, I had enough, but I’d packed a lot of Mama’s stuff, too. After all, I wasn’t sure how long it would be before the landlord evicted us, and once Mama was released from the sanitarium she’d need them.
He slid into the driver’s side and fastened his seatbelt, glancing over at me with a warm smile. “I know these aren’t the best of circumstances, Neely, but it’s good to see you again. How long has it been?”
“Two years, I guess. The last time I was at your house it was the summer I was fifteen.”
“Hey, no more of this ‘your house,’ it’s still our home, sweetie. It always will be. You know that.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe that. It hadn’t felt like home to me since that Christmas when I was fourteen. When everything had hit the fan between Mama and Daddy. When Tiffany Blume had stolen my father’s heart away from us.
“Is she still with you?” I asked. After all, it had been a couple of years. The chances were good that Ms. Blume had moved on to someone else’s husband.
“She is Tiffany,” he replied, pulling away from the curb in front of our house, “and yes, we got married a few months ago. I know she’s not your favorite person, but Neely, I hope you’ll at least be civil to her now that we’ll all be in the same house together. You can’t continue to blame her for what happened between your mother and me.”
I glanced out the window, watching the familiar neighborhood I once called mine disappear from view. “I know that,” I replied. “The blame is half yours too, Daddy.”
“Look, Neely,” he said with a sigh, steering the car onto the interstate, “I know, at your age, you probably see things in black and white, but life is more complicated than that, honey. Relationships are like, well, kind of like some of your abstract paintings. Blended shades and hues of colors, curves, softness, hardness, light, and dark.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I remarked, not wanting to hear anymore of his analogy using my artwork. “But it doesn’t make it any easier for me.”
“I know, and I’m truly sorry for that. But we fell in love, Neely. It just happened.”
“You fell in love with Mama, too. Remember?”
I could see his hands grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he was the one that opened the door for it.
“Of course I did. But things change sometimes. What you want at twenty-five isn’t always what you want at thirty-five. People sometimes outgrow one another. Their dreams and aspirations take different directions.”
“Mama’s never did,” I replied. “She always wanted us to be a family. I thought that’s what you wanted too.”
He sighed, one hand left the steering wheel to run a hand through his hair. I could tell he was using something to cover the gray he used to have around his temples.
“And aren’t you afraid the same thing might happen with Tiffany?” I pressed. “She’s younger than you. How do you know she might decide what she wanted at twenty-five isn’t what she wants at thirty-five?”
“I guess that’s a risk I was willing to take, Neely. Can we please not argue about this? We’ve been through it all before the last time you visited.”
Of course we had. I remembered. But things were different then. I’d had Seth to comfort me; to hold me, and to tell me that everything would work out for the best. He’d promised that, no matter what, he’d always be a constant in my life regardless of the distance.
“Sure. Let’s drop it. I’ll be civil to Tiffany. You don’t have to worry about that. I appreciate the fact you agreed to take me in.”
“Take you in? Dammit! You’re my daughter. You could’ve come to live with me whenever you wanted. In fact, I’m upset you’ve had to go through all of this with your mother. You never said a word about her drinking.”
“What could you have done about it?” I asked, turning my head to gaze over at him. I noticed his cheek was twitching. He was genuinely upset, that much I could see. It puzzled me a little bit. Did he really care about Mama?
“I could’ve done a whole hell of a lot had I known. My God, I would’ve gotten you out of that situation a lot sooner had you told me. You never answered one god damned letter I sent!”
And now it was my turn to get emotional. “What letters?”
“The letters I sent about once a month until I finally figured out you had no use for me. So, I stopped. I couldn’t even get a phone number for you. So please, cut me some slack here, Neely.”
I blinked several times as the ramifications of what he’d just said totally sunk in. “I never got any letters, Dad. And Mama said you had our phone number. She said you were just too busy with your own life now to care about calling me.”
He was silent for a moment. “Oh, honey,” he said, “my God, I had no idea that Nina was still so bitter. I am so, so sorry, Neely. If I’d known, there is no way I would have—”
“I know, Dad,” I interrupted, not comfortable with how all of this was stirring up emotions I didn’t want to deal with. I’d learned how to tuck them away into places I didn’t ever have to visit if I didn’t want to. “It’s water under the bridge now. At least Mama is finally getting some help.”
His hand left the steering wheel momentarily to lightly caress my cheek. “I want nothing more than for her to get better, and I truly mean that. And you? Well, I want you to figure out how to be a seventeen-year-old girl again. Not someone’s caregiver, okay?”
I nodded. “I’ll try my best. I need to finish my senior year. The semester just started. There won’t be a problem in getting me enrolled at Malibu High will there? God, I hope my credits transfer without a problem.”
“Hey, let’s not worry about that, okay? I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it works out. Even if that means a private school or a tutor.”
I rolled my eyes. “A tutor? I was on the honor roll at Bridgestone,” I bragged.
“I don’t doubt that a bit. Still wanting to pursue a degree in Art?”
“Not sure,” I replied honestly. “I don’t see things the way I used to see them.”
Chapter 7
Christmas 1993
My dad watched as I opened the last of my presents. This one was from him alone. He said that he’d picked it out especially for me on his last business trip. He said the moment he saw it, he knew it would be perfect for me.
I tore the paper off and my breath caught in my throat when I saw it. It was a framed oil painting called ‘Recognition’ and it was a girl, looking in a mirror done in abstract, but I could tell the girl was me. “I don’t understand.” I started, puzzled at where he would’ve found a painting resembling me.
“The girl that painted this was blind, Neely. I saw her at an Art Fair when I was in New York. She was painting these abstracts while people described what they wanted, so I paid her to paint you. She did it all by my verbal description of you. I thought you might think that was kind of cool.”
“Wow,” I said, looking at every bit of detail, the colors, the intensity of her strokes, “this is so awesome. I can’t believe a blind person did this, Daddy. I love it! Thank you!” I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him, giving him a huge hug.
“Had time to go to some art fair when you were there over Thanksgiving, Randy?” my mother asked. Her tone was petulant. “Maybe some time I could go along on one of your business trips. I’d love to do some sightseeing.”
“We can talk about this later, Nina,” he replied, still smiling.
It was so good to have him back home, at least for a couple of weeks anyway. After the disastrous Thanksgiving, it seemed to be just what Mama needed.
That evening, after Seth had walked me home, I hadn’t been prepared for the scene I had walked into. Mama was passed out on the sofa, an empty liquor bottle dangling from her h
and.
She’d cleaned out my father’s closet and dresser drawers and must’ve busied herself all afternoon and evening by cutting each and every article of clothing into pieces. She’d even taken the time to cut out the crotches on each pair of his dress slacks, and then shape the cutouts into hearts.
I hadn’t known what to do. I had no way of reaching my father on his business trip. And what good would that have done anyway? He was two thousand miles away. There was nothing he could’ve done about it.
I walked quietly over to where Mama was sprawled out on the sofa. I felt her neck for a pulse, and made sure I saw the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was breathing.
And then I did what my instincts told me to do. I picked up the phone and called Laura Drake and asked her if she could please come down and help me with my mother. “Please. Don’t say anything to Seth. Just come alone. I don’t know what to do for my Mama.”
For some reason, the thought of Seth coming down here along with his mother terrified me. I didn’t want him to see her like this—to judge her, or worse yet, to pity her or me. This was a family matter. And since there was no family anywhere close, I had to take Laura up on her offer. And true to her word, she came alone and helped me get Mama up, showered, and filled up with as much coffee as we could get down her.
I’d been forever grateful to Laura that night. We hadn’t spoken of it since. And blessedly, she hadn’t mentioned it to Seth because he’d never made mention of it which would’ve been his style. By the time Daddy got home, Mama had gone shopping and presented him with a new wardrobe as an early Christmas present. He was never the wiser.
“So, I guess I did good, huh?” he asked, giving me a kiss on the top of my head, bringing me back to the present.
“I love it,” I repeated, and then seeing Mama sitting stoically on the sofa, I continued. “You and Mama have given me the best Christmas ever. Thank you both so much.”
“It was our pleasure,” Mama said, taking a sip of wine. “Now, how about you pick up all the wrapping paper and bows and clear up the floor before dinner?”
“Sure thing,” I said.
Later, after dinner, I told my parents I was going over to Seth’s for a while. “I got him a Christmas present,” I explained.
“Ah, sounds like there’s a romance in bloom,” my father teased.
“If you were home more often, Randy, you’d see for yourself how crazy that boy is for our girl,” Mama snipped. “It’s a bit worrisome keeping my eye on her by myself.”
“Oh Mama,” I said, grabbing my jacket off of the coat rack in the hall, “We’re friends. Good friends. Don’t embarrass me in front of Daddy.”
“Yeah, Nina. You heard the girl. She’s too young for any of that romance stuff, right Neely?”
I started to reply when Mama butt in.
“She’ll be fifteen in January,” she snapped. “Girls that age get knocked up around these parts.”
“Later,” I said, making a fast exit. I knew by now that Mama was ready to pick yet another fight with my father. It was no wonder he spent more and more time away on business.
Laura answered the door looking festive in a bright red velvet dress trimmed in forest green. “Merry Christmas, Neely!” she greeted. “Come on in. Seth’s been pacing around waiting for you. He’s in his room, you can go on up.”
“Thanks, Laura,” I replied, “and Merry Christmas to you too.”
I went upstairs to Seth’s room. The door was shut so I knocked.
“Yeah?” he called out.
“It’s Santa!” I called back in a deep voice.
“‘Bout damn time. Get in here.”
Seth and I had grown closer since Thanksgiving. It wasn’t anything that we worked on, it just sort’ve happened after that first kiss.
And that first kiss certainly hadn’t been the last one. We perfected the art of kissing every chance we got. That is, when we were sure there were no prying eyes. My mother hadn’t exaggerated one bit when she told my dad about keeping her eyes on us.
He was sitting cross legged on his bed, and had been listening to his stereo with his headset.
“How was your Christmas?” he asked.
I placed his gift on the desk while I tugged my jacket off, and tossed it on a chair in the corner. Then I picked it back up and placed it next to me as I took a seat on the bed beside him.”It was good. You should see the oil painting my dad got me. It was actually painted by a blind girl. It’s an abstract of me!”
“No shit? Sounds cool. I’ll have to check it out. What else?”
I shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Clothes, CDs, perfume, that kind of stuff.”
“No jewelry?” he asked, cocking a brow devilishly.
“Nope. But then I didn’t ask for any.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem right,” he replied, pulling a wrapped box out from under his bed pillow. “Here. From me.”
I tore off the paper and opened the small, velvet-covered box. I gasped when I saw the beautiful silver ring inside. It had two small diamonds on each side of a marquis-shaped pink stone. “It’s beautiful, Seth,” I breathed, taking it out of the box and placing it on my ring finger. “But garnet is my birthstone. It’s red. I’m not sure what month pink is.”
He was chuckling and rolling his eyes so I quickly shut up. “It’s a pink diamond, Neely. This is a promise ring.”
“A promise ring? Well, what is it I’m supposed to promise?” I asked, crinkling up my nose.
He reached over and took my hand in his larger one, gazing at the ring. “Promise me that I’m the only one you’ll be kissing, how’s that?”
When he said stuff like that to me my belly did somersaults. Right now they were in turbo mode. I felt my cheeks warm.
“I promise, Seth,” I replied softly, my eyes locked with his.
“Let’s seal it with a kiss then, shall we, Tennessee?”
His lips found mine, and his arms closed around my shoulders as we kissed deeply. My hands tangled in is hair and I felt tingly all over, just like I did with our first kiss. I wondered if it would always be that way.
I finally pulled back to admire my hand again. “I love silver, too. I have necklaces and earrings that will go perfectly with this.”
“That’s white gold, babe,” he said. “And you can wear it with anything and everything. The point is, you’re supposed to wear it all the time.”
“Well, I know that,” I mumbled, even though I hadn’t known it at all. I admittedly was as green as a watermelon rind when it came to lovey-dovey stuff. But Seth sure knew a lot about romance things for a guy. I was impressed.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s in the box there?”
“Oh,” I laughed, “I got so caught up with my ring, I forgot to give you your present. I hope you love it as much as I love this,” I finished softly.
I’d been working on it since Thanksgiving. I had wanted to give Seth something that was part of me. My painting was something that came from my heart and my soul. This particular piece, more than others. Because it was of him. It was painted with how he looked in my mind and in my dreams at night.
He tore off the Christmas paper and lifted the top off of the large coat box I’d found to put it in. I watched his face as he lifted the framed painting from the tissue paper I’d put around it.
I had been pleased with how it had turned out. The eyes captured the sparkle in his, and the smile was just a bit crooked, with his dimple showing. When Seth smiled, the sun had competition. His face was so handsome and his features so idyllic it was easy to understand why he would definitely have a future in modeling or show business if he so chose to follow that path. Which, up to this point, was still his plan.
“Oh Neely, damn,” he murmured, “you did this?”
“Of course.”
“It’s like…well, it’s like I sat and posed for it, but I know that’s not possible. You did this from
memory?”
“Yep. Sure did. I don’t have to have you in front of me to remember how you look.”
“Well, yeah. I get that. I picture you in my mind all the time. But to sit down and draw you, or even harder yet, to paint you with brush strokes, there’s just no way I could ever do that! I love it.”
“I’m glad,” I replied. “I guess we each have our own talents. I know I could never do the whole performing arts thing like you’re doing.”
He got to his feet and took the picture with him. I watched as he removed the autographed picture of his hero, Wayne Gretzky from the wall over his bed, replacing it with my painting.
“I bet as soon as I leave you’ll be putting Wayne back up there,” I teased, giving him a playful swat on the behind.
He adjusted the painting so that it hung perfectly straight and then turned to me. “No I won’t,” he said solemnly. “This is so much better.”
I felt myself blush, but he didn’t stop staring at me.
“You’re so damn pretty, Neilah Grace. No, that’s inaccurate. You’re so damn beautiful, you make my heart hurt.”
“Sethhh,” I whispered, drawing out his name, “you’re embarrassing me here.”
“I don’t care. It needed to be said.”
And then he pulled me up against him and we kissed for a long, long time.
On the way home later, I placed my fingers to my lips. They were chapped. I’d actually OD’d on kissing. We’d made out for like an hour. I knew I’d have to avoid Mama until I got to my room and put some ChapStick on them.
Tomorrow, Laura was taking us to the art museum in La Jolla just as she’d promised at Thanksgiving. And then on Friday, Seth would turn sixteen. She’d invited me over for dinner. I’d already been working on his birthday gift.
I’d started pottery lessons with my mother. We went every Wednesday evening. I’d kept it a secret from Seth because I wanted him to be totally surprised when I presented him with the special creation I’d been working on.
It had already been through the kiln twice. All that was left to do was to hand paint the details, which I was going to work on the next two evenings.