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"If it's any consolation, I don't understand it either," I confided.
"Well he was starting to make money, but I was still paying for his college and there was no way I could stop working."
"What happened next?"
She inhaled deeply. "I told him to shove it and focus on his studies. I wanted him to get an education as much as he wanted it for himself." Constance stared at her coffee. "Sebastian had to grow up a lot earlier than other kids his age. I remember once when he was in the fourth grade he bought all this powdered lemonade in the clearance section of the supermarket. He decided to make a lemonade stand in front of the hotel I worked at. Said if people were coming here for summer vacation then they’d want something refreshing to drink when they arrived." She laughed to herself, raising her gaze to meet mine. "He raised twenty-six dollars. Not bad, considering he spent four dollars on the lemonade. After he earned that money he handed it to me and asked me to put it towards our groceries that week."
A tear slid down her cheek and she swiped it away. "It was such a sweet gesture, but it broke my heart. Seb was only nine at the time and felt a responsibility to take care of me. To be the man of the family."
My throat tightened, and I placed a hand over hers.
"Sounds pretty badass to me. What a cool kid."
Constance's face softened. "He was the coolest. When my arthritis got worse and cleaning rooms became harder, he insisted I retire." She stretched her hand out as if recalling the feeling.
"I take it that was five years ago?"
She squeezed my hand. "You catch on quick. This time I let him tell me what to do. I could see the worry etched on his face. He got me in touch with the Arthritis Foundation so I could get the help I needed and rest my body."
"I'm sure that's a relief for him." I drank the coffee and recognized it as the same blend from yesterday's coffee shop.
"Yes, but sometimes it's boring for me." She winked. "I try to keep busy. I love visiting the library and going into town. I cook for Seb when my hands feel good. I've worked too hard for too long to just stop moving. I don't think I know how to stop moving."
"That sounds like a good thing."
She smiled. "It is. And it is a relief that I don't have to work as hard anymore but I hate that it means Seb has to work so hard. I keep telling him to rest, to take time off, but he doesn't listen to me. He's stubborn like his mama." She shook her head.
"He sounds a lot like my brother. Driven to a fault."
"Exactly." She nodded. "And now that I have the time, I'm determined to try everything I haven't been able to do."
"I love that," I said earnestly. We had one life and Sebastian worked hard to make sure his mom didn't have to work anymore after years of laboring to support them both. She deserved to have fun. I'm sure my mom would think so too.
She eyeballed my plate. "You haven't even touched your food yet. Eat, please. You need the energy."
Constance didn't need to tell me twice. I bit into the cinnamon roll and moaned. "This is the best cinnamon roll I've ever had in my life. You're welcome to cook for me anytime if it keeps you busy."
She smiled. "What a generous offer." She tapped the edge of her coffee mug. "I actually have something else in mind."
I crossed my legs. "Hit me with it."
She glanced at my eye, which was admittedly looking better, but still had black and purple undertones.
I clarified. "Metaphorically, of course."
"I'm not sure I can, but I would love to try to paint. I was hoping you could teach me some basics."
She wanted to paint?
I was flattered. "I'd love to show you some tricks. Hell, maybe it will help me get my work done."
Her head tilted. "You seemed just fine last night. Your piece was impressive."
I laughed, but it held no mirth. "I'm worried that it was a one off. It's been a struggle to paint lately."
"If it’s too much to take on, I'd understand. I could find a new hobby to try. I think miniature golf is still on my list," she mused looking at a piece of lined paper stuck to the fridge.
"Is that a list of things you're trying?"
