Page 13 of The Art of Ruin

The shift in her voice is immediate. Bright. Unfiltered. It cuts through the low office noise behind me and leaves something quieter in its place.

I lean back against the wall. “You’re home?”

“I just got back,” she says quickly. “I had a snack, and I didn’t spill anything, and I told Mrs. R about the blue crayon, and she said I was very patient, but I wasn’t because I wanted to yell. But I didn’t. And we made cannoli, and they are yummy, but I can’t have another until after dinner.”

That’s a lot of information.

“Slow down.”

“I’m not fast.”

“You are.”

A pause.

“…okay, maybe a little, but I might forget if I don’t say it fast.”

I close my eyes briefly. There are negotiations worth having. This one isn’t. “Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“What did you have?”

“Cannoli. And I didn’t drop any crumbs.”

“Good.”

“And Mrs. R said I could have two crackers because one broke, but that means it was really still one.”

“Interesting interpretation.”

“It’s true.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m drawing now.”

“Inside the lines?”

Silence. “…mostly.”

“That’s progress, Jellybean.”

She laughs softly.

It stays with me.

“Are you coming home now?” she asks.

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“After one more meeting.”

“Is it big work?”

“Yes.”