Page 25 of Silent Damage

Focus. Get a job and get out. You can do this.

But where? What the hell can I do?

I think back to the graffiti I saw when I walked off the bus.

HellCats.

I could do that.

Fuck, I want to do that.

Power. Money. A lot of money probably…

“Hell yeah, bitch.”

I’ve gotta figure out a way to get in with them.

But first I need some food.

My eyes trail to his bedroom door. Still closed.

Perfect.

That’ll give me at least some time to myself.

But as I rise from the sofa, I catch sight of Gabe sitting on the ground in the backyard, his back facing me, through the window above the kitchen table.

I curse under my breath.

Forget about him—get food and leave.

I stroll into the kitchen in search of something to eat, but I spot him again through the kitchen window. His side is visible now, and I can see that he’s drawing.

He examines the tree in the backyard, his head tilted to one side, with his pencil and paper on his lap.

I shouldn’t watch.

I don’t want to watch.

But I can’t look away.

Watching him draw was always—

Stop. That’s over.

But I still can’t look away.

This was always Gabe’s process when he was really serious about a drawing.

Sometimes, he’d just doodle something quick and fun—like a weird cartoon octopus or something random like that.

But when he was serious, he’d start by sketching the outline of his subject, study it for a long time, and then he’d get to work.

It’s the coolest thing in the world to watch.

I rest my head against the window, waiting for the explosion of activity that will occur when he feels he’s studied the tree enough.

I wait.