THE PICASSO PROJECT

by Carol Anne Shaw

***

  Eddie has to wait in Redman's office for ten minutes before the Principal shows up. He feels a little twitchy, like a sitting duck. He looks out the window and watches a figure in the distance dressed in dark blue coveralls; watched him empty a trash can and put it in the back of a little pickup. The guy is short. Balding. The new custodian. It's gotta be. Eddie stares at the squat figure, who looks somewhat familiar, but before he can place him, the dude gets into a van and drives toward the maintenance building.

  It isn't right that Frank lost his job. It isn't right at all. Eddie has got to see him. He's got to find out where he lives and apologize for messing up his life. Just when things were starting to heat up with Cora, too.

  Principal Redman opens the door and sits down at his desk. He rubs his hand across his face and shuffles a few loose papers mindlessly in front of him.

  The dude looks tired, Eddie thinks. He looks like he's aged ten years in the past twenty-four hours.

  "I called you here because I owe you an apology, Edward." He looks at Eddie through bloodshot eyes.

  Eddie waits.

  "I was a little hard on you yesterday, and I'm sorry for that."

  "Okay."

  "No. It isn't okay, and I want you to know that. I also want you to know that all this is over now. Mark has been charged. And because he's eighteen, he'll be tried as an adult. I guess he can kiss his rugby scholarship goodbye."

  Dumb ass, Eddie thinks, relief flooding through his body.

  "He's also not going to file assault charges against you," Redman says. "But I have to say, I'm still very bothered by that incident."

  "With all due respect, sir," Eddie says. "I'm sure you would have done the same thing if you had been in my position."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Mark Johnson knocks Georgia around. Georgia Baines is his girlfriend. I walked in on them, and, well, I wasn't going to just stand there and let him hurt her. I did what anyone would have done."

  "Why didn't you come forward right away?"

  "Because it was Mark Johnson. Bridgeman High's All-Star, not to mention Constable Johnson's son. No one who mattered would have believed me. You know it's true. Would you have believed me, sir?"

  Redman doesn't say anything.

  "So," Eddie says, "is that all, Mr. Redman? I'd really like to get back to class."

  "You're a painter."

  "I like to paint, yes."

  "Mr. Mackie says you have real talent."

  "He did?"

  "He did. He also said you stand a pretty good shot at a Coastal Academy of Art & Design Scholarship. Have you applied?"

  "No."

  Redman folds his hands in front of him and leans across the desk. "You know something, Eddie. Life is full of milestones. Finishing high school is one of them."

  "I'm on track to finish," Eddie says. "My grades are good."

  "I hear you. But there are opportunities out there for talented students like you, and they are well within reach. It would be a shame to ignore them."

  "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind, sir."

  Redman sits back in his black leather recliner and cracks his knuckles.

  "Can I go back to class now, Mr. Redman?"

  The principal hesitates for a moment before nodding. "Sure, Eddie. Fine."

  "Thank you, sir."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  JOURNAL (June)

  "Everything is a miracle. It is a miracle that one does not dissolve in one's bath like a lump of sugar." - Pablo Picasso

  I've never been one for miracles. Or positive thinking. Or any of that New Age woo-woo crap. But maybe miracles do happen.

  Twenty-four hours ago, I figured we were screwed. Twenty-four hours ago, I figured I'd be spending a night or two in the slammer.

  But fast forward, and here I am. And the problems—well, the big ones, anyway—are solved. I don't know about dissolving like a lump of sugar, but Pablo? Life tastes pretty sweet right about now.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  "We have this boathouse, Eddie. No one's even using it," Jasmine says.

  They're at the cafe, drinking iced coffees at a table on the sidewalk while Maya chats to a woman with a little brown puppy a few tables over.

  "My parents never go down there, except in late August when the rellies come over from England. Besides, they're in Vancouver for a while right now anyway, and Jalna doesn't clean down there. Not ever."

  "Jalna?"

  "She's our housekeeper."

  "You have a housekeeper?"

  "Yes. She's from Hungary."

  "She's from Hungary?"

  "What are you, a parrot?"

  Eddie laughs.

  "Anyway," Jasmine says, "Jalna is awesome, and my parents pay her really well, so don't go getting all self-righteousness on me again about my being privileged, okay, mate?"

  The old Edward DuMont would have said no thank you to such an offer. But the old Edward DuMont, Eddie thinks, never fell in love with an amazing girl like Jasmine Hammond.

  "I don't know about this, Jasmine," he says.

  "Come on," she pleads. "We only have just over a week until graduation. And then you turn nineteen. Isn't that the magic number? You can stay in our boathouse till then."

  "Well..."

  Jasmine snakes her arms through his and whispers in his ear. "It'll be fine. There are even two bedrooms. You and Maya can have privacy for once. And...I could visit you when she's asleeeeeeep."

  Eddie's heartbeat picks up speed and thuds in his chest.

  "Well, where else are you going to sleep tonight?"

  Eddie takes a sip of his coffee. "Well, I have been giving that some thought."

  "Come on, there's an espresso machine in there and a fridge full of food. Even beer if you want. And cable TV."

  Eddie looks over at his sister, who is now cradling the brown puppy in her arms. She's gone all goofy, talking baby-talk to the puppy, and the puppy doesn't seem to mind at all.

  "I guess it would be okay," Eddie says finally, taking Jasmine's hand in his own. "But I'll make it up to you somehow."

  "That will not be necessary," Jasmine says softly. She leans over in her chair and places her hand on Eddie's knee. She's wearing one of her bohemian gauzy blouses, and the top few buttons are undone. Eddie can see the pale swell of her breast just inside the fabric and his heart continues to jump around inside his own shirt. Why is it so damn hot out, he thinks?

  "You make a convincing argument," he tells her. He nuzzles her ear and growls.

  "Ew!" Maya laughs from where she sits with the puppy. "Get a room!"

  "Ease up there, big guy," Jasmine teases, sitting back in her chair. "You can thank me later."

  ***

  Six days. Almost a week. Six days of awesome, at least, that's the way Eddie sees it. He can't remember if he's ever had six days of awesome in a row before, six days of waking up warm, dry, well-rested. Six days of going to bed with a full stomach in a real bed under a nice duvet in a boathouse with vaulted ceilings and floor to ceiling windows. Six days of hanging out with Jasmine, watching movies, eating popcorn, snuggling under a blanket, far too conscious of each other's bodies, and far too conscious of Maya, who is never too far away.

  God it's torture, Eddie thinks. All the having to keep his hands off of Jasmine in the evenings. Delicious, intoxicating, addictive torture. He hates to see her go when the night is over but loves to see her in the mornings when they all head to school together.

  Jasmine and her laughing eyes.

  Jasmine and her cute-as-hell British expressions.

  Jasmine and her goddam swimmer's legs.

  She inspires him, and even though his sketchbook is still missing, Eddie can't stop drawing. He draws on scraps of paper, mostly sketches of Jasmine when she's half asleep on the couch.

  But Eddie isn't sleeping tonight. He's not tired. He's on fire. He can't remember any part of the movie they watch, except that Maya is into it—some chick flick about a road trip and a traveling musicia
n. It doesn't matter, though. The screen is just something to stare at while his fingers run slowly up and down the outside of Jasmine's arm as she lays in the crook of his. Her skin is soft and cool, and her blouse, mostly unbuttoned.

  And he thinks that this is one of those moments; one he will remember forever, no matter what. He'll remember this night with Jasmine, the one when the heat wave broke. The one when thunder rumbled and the smell of ozone hung in the air before the rain finally started to fall. Eddie will remember the almost unfamiliar hiss of the raindrops on the surface of the lake and the feel of Jasmine's hair against his cheek.

  "Don't go," he whispers after the movie is over. "Stay."

  But when Maya goes to bed, Eddie walks Jasmine part way up the trail to her house, where she kisses him goodnight in a way that makes his head spin.

  Now he lays in the dark alone, listening to that pair of loons out on the lake. The same mated pair he's seen all year, singing to each other in the dark. Or at least, that's the way Eddie likes to interpret it.

  At two a.m. he gets up and stands in the dark at the window.

  The door to Maya's room is shut, and he eases open the sliders to the deck and walks outside. It's stopped raining. The air is warm, but the mugginess has gone, and the slight breeze coming off the lake feels good against his naked skin.

  So many stars, he thinks, and then watches as one shoots across the sky directly over his head. It leaves a bright trail in its wake, and Eddie makes a wish because that's what you're supposed to do when you see a shooting star.

  "Hey. It's officially morning."

  Jasmine is standing at the edge of the trail by the dock. She's wearing a fluffy white housecoat and her hair is spills over her shoulders.

  "And," Eddie says quietly, "I'm officially naked."

  "So, you are."

  "I...I couldn't sleep."

  "Me, either."

  Eddie walks over to where she stands, his skin suddenly hot, and Jasmine drops her robe from her shoulders.

  "There," she says. "Now we're even."

  Eddie's knees shake. She is so damn beautiful. He takes her face in his both of his hands and kisses her, the heat of her skin setting his own on fire. "Jazz," he whispers breathlessly, his knees weak. "Where?"

  She pulls him through a stand of poplar trees to a clearing and spreads her housecoat out on the still-damp grass.

  He pulls her down, and then there is only the sound of the water lapping against the side of the dock, the loon calling to its mate from somewhere in the distance, and the trembling clatter of the poplar leaves in the trees high above them.

  Eddie pushes the hair away from Jasmine's face. "Jazz. Are you sure about this?"

  "I'm sure...more than sure."

  "Same," Eddie says.

  "But, I've never..."

  "Me, either."

  He feels her breath, hot on his neck.

  I love you.

  They both say the words at the same time.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  JOURNAL ENTRY (June)

  "Go and do the things you can't. That is how you get to do them." - Pablo Picasso

  This is an unfamiliar concept to me, but the idea itself isn't a new one. I think NIKE subscribes to a similar credo, right? The whole, "Just Do It" thing.

  Funny, a few weeks ago I would never have thought about this at all. I mean, come on...it does sound a little new-agey, right? But here's the thing: I'm getting to do something I never thought I'd get to do. I'm getting to hang out with a beautiful, smart, funny girl, who actually seems to want to hang out with me, too.

  I'm not thinking about next year. I'm not even thinking about tomorrow. I'm just doing that thing I want to do. With Jasmine Hammond. And it feels so fine.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  (Flashback)

  For once, Eddie has a birthday party—his first ever—the same year they have Chips, the dog. He invites four boys and two girls. They have hotdogs at a picnic table on the scrubby patch of grass behind the Laundromat, and afterwards they play tag.

  There is one kid—a red-haired boy called Michael McKenzie—who is allergic to the almonds on the cake and reacts so badly he almost stops breathing. He has to go to the hospital, and Mrs. McKenzie is pissed! Eddie's father yells at her and calls her a controlling bitch. They yell at each other in the hospital parking lot. After that, birthdays come and go but no one makes a big deal about them. Still, Eddie always make his sister a card. Each year the card features a special drawing or sometimes a poem. He likes the ritual. It makes him feel normal. He can imagine millions of other people making birthday cards for people they care about every year. It's what you do, so he keeps doing it. Because no matter what happens, no matter how many times things change in Eddie and Maya's life, birthdays will always arrive at the same time every year.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  "What are you going to wear?" Maya asks Eddie. They're eating cereal on the couch in the boathouse, while Jasmine makes a pot of coffee in the tiny kitchen.

  "I hadn't really thought about it," Eddie says.

  "Well, you'd better start. Grad is just days away and you can't wear those crappy clothes." Maya looks at Eddie's ripped jeans and sneers.

  "I'll figure something out," he tells her. "Don't worry about it."

  Jasmine sets down the mugs of coffee on the side table next to the sofa and raises her eyebrow at Eddie.

  Eddie smiles. "Really. Don't worry. I'll sort it out. It's not a big deal." He means it. Getting to graduate is the big deal; what he wears is irrelevant, at least it is to Eddie.

  "Okay." Jasmine shrugs. "Fair enough."

  "You're not exactly a cutting-edge fashion statement this morning, Jazz." Eddie laughs. Jasmine is wearing an old Yukon shirt that is too big for her and a pair of baggy shorts. But Jasmine Hammond, Eddie decides, would look hot wearing just about anything. Or nothing. Yes, especially, nothing.

  Jasmine returns the grin, and Maya rolls her eyes. "You guys are cute. A little nauseating, but cute."

  She's probably right, Eddie thinks. He does feel a little lovesick. Ever since Jasmine's visit to the dock three nights ago, he's felt a little woozy. And then yesterday, when Maya was fooling around in a kayak along the edge of the lake, they made love again. Only, this time, they'd been in a warm bed, with pillows, and it had been slower, less urgent. It had felt safe and warm and amazing.

  "You're daydreaming," Jasmine teases.

  "Hah," Eddie gets up and takes his cereal bowl to the counter. "Busted."

  "You're so transparent."

  Eddie winks at her and then changes the subject. "Well, ladies, I need to get going. School and all that."

  "What? It's still so early," Maya says, frowning.

  "I know, but there's something I have to do. I need to talk to someone."

  "Who?" Maya and Jasmine say at the same time.

  "Cora. I need to talk with Cora."

  ***

  Eddie knocks on the side door to the cafeteria, and Cora opens it right away.

  "Eddie, always the early bird," she says, a twinkle in her eye. She lets him in and reaches for an apron. This one is bright blue with a bunch of impressionistic seagulls flying across the front of it. Except for the tomato sauce stain on the bib, it's a nice piece of art, Eddie thinks.

  "I wondered if we could talk. Just for a minute?" Eddie looks over his shoulder. The parking lot is still pretty empty.

  "Sure, let's go into my office."

  Eddie follows her into the little room attached to the back of the kitchen. It's tiny and dark, but Cora has made it nice. There's a vase of bright pink silk roses on the desk and some pictures of her grandson hanging on the wall. He's a cute little guy with a mop of black curly hair and dark eyes. In one of the photos, he's riding a toy car and sticking out his tongue.

  "That's Colton," Cora says. "A real handful."

  "Cute kid."

  "Most of the time." Cora tucks her purse away in the bottom drawer of the desk and then looks at E
ddie. "You're here about Frank, aren't you." It's not really a question.

  Eddie feels his face grow hot. "Yeah. I...I'm really sorry about what happened."

  "Don't you go worrying about it," Cora says resting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Frank is always do-gooding. This isn't the first time he's caught flack for it."

  "But they fired him. That's just not right, Cora."

  "Lots of stuff in life isn't right. I would think you know that better than anyone, Eddie."

  Eddie nods. "Still."

  "Frank was going to retire next year anyway. This way, he gets to get a jump start on old Nan."

  "Old Nan?"

  "It's an airstream trailer. Been parked in his back yard for over ten years—a Silver Bullet. Just needs some TLC and a few parts, and then she'll be road-worthy again."

  "Wow. Those things are vintage," Eddie says.

  "True. And Frank and I have been dreaming about heading down to Arizona in the winters. Living in Old Nan and spending the evenings watching the desert sky on a couple of fold out chairs."

  "So, it's out there then? You and Frank; you're are an actual "thing?"

  "I guess you'd be right about that," Cora says. "How about that?" She chuckles and shakes her head. "Never thought I'd find another man at my age. Just goes to show you just don't know what God has planned for you."

  Eddie isn't sure about the whole God thing, but he thinks Cora is right about life throwing you some pretty unexpected curve balls. Like Jasmine; he never saw that one coming.

  "Cora?"

  "Uh huh?"

  "I'd still like to talk to Frank. If you don't think he'd mind?"

  "Frank's your friend, Eddie. Of course, he won't mind." She picks up a scrap piece of paper from her desk and writes something on it. "Here's the address. He'll be working on Old Nan the next few days, is my bet."

  "Thanks, Cora."

  "Don't mention it."

  Eddie tucks the slip of paper in his jeans pocket and opens the side door. "Cora?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I really think it's great about you and Frank."