"Huh?"
"Here." I lift up the rag and drag it across her skin. Her head flops back at the slightest force, making it a more difficult task than it should be. "Hold your head still." I brace the back of her head with my other hand and attempt another wipe with the rag. Unfortunately, all I'm managing to do is smear it.
"What are you doing?"
"You have paint on your forehead, you goofball."
"What?" Before I can stop her, she reaches her hand up and touches her forehead, smearing the red paint even more and getting it all over her hand in the process. "Uh oh."
I huff a laugh with my lips pressed tight.Kids. Always making a big fucking mess. As I wipe her hand and her forehead clean, I start to wonder if this is how Lou feels when she's cleaning up my messes.
"There you go. All clean."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't go sticking your forehead on any more wet canvases, okay?"
Her giggle reminds me of Iris, so sweet and innocent.
“I was just trying to add a personal touch to my piece.”
I guess she’s only sweet until she opens her sassy little mouth. Then she sounds just like me.
I turn my head to assess the damage she’s done to her work, curious about how she wouldn't have noticed a forehead-sized smudge in her painting.
The canvas that last class was just a field of daisies is now morphing into a real work of art. The part where her forehead likely landed is a red and orange sunset, dipping down behind rolling hills covered in small white and yellow flowers.
"What do you think?"
"It's actually pretty good, kid."
"I know."
I hold back my smile and look down at her admiring her own work. "I love the confidence."
"What you said last time reminded me that my mom always said a girl's greatest weapon is her underwearing confidence."
Though I'm pretty sure she meant to say unwavering instead of underwearing, I let it slide. I get the point. "Sounds like your mom's a pretty smart lady."
"Yeah, she was."
I'm unsure if she meant to saywasinstead ofis, but I'm not about to get into this girl's trauma here in the middle of class, so I drop it. Last week, I saw a lady pick her up from class, but I didn't ask who it was. Should I have asked? God, what if I let her go home with a complete stranger?
"Well, keep up the good work and watch the wet paint."
Her grin is impossible for her to contain, and it makes my heart feel warm and fuzzy knowing that my compliment could make her so happy. Maybe this is what Iris likes about teaching kids? But god, you could not pay me enough to have a whole classroom of these. No amount of warm and fuzzy feelings could outweigh the abundance of messes, crying, and sticky fingers.
I'm snuggledin at home, watching a movie with Fia, when my phone buzzes. It's an unknown number.
Unknown Number
Hey, it's Kass. Just checking in to see how you're healing.
B
Do you check in on all your clients?
Or just your favorite ones?
