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“Okay?” he asked, offering an open, inviting smile. It was asking for reassurance, but I couldn't give it. First because it was none of his business and second because it would only open old wounds that weren't ever fully healed.
Experiencing the force of the sunlight after walking through the gloom of the house was positively invigorating. Susan was ankle deep in dirt and her fingers, ungloved, were equally smeared. She looked up briefly as I walked in with James, lips twisting in a small, pretty smile, before bending back to her task of weeding. Rows of purple lilies, chrysanthemums, yellow daffodils, peonies and other flowers I couldn't name pushed against each other. It was like a symphony of colors with vast green edges surrounding it.
“How are you?” Susan asked, squinting up at me.
“I’m fine,” I murmured noncommittally. “Work's going fine too. And you guys?”
“We're good.”
“So,” I said, gesturing toward the rows of plants and flowers. “New hobby?”
“You could say that. It certainly does take my time. The vegetables make good food and there's been lots of requests for the flowers. You'd be surprised how many people want flowers delivered.”
“When did you start all of this?” I asked, scratching lightly at my arm.
“Last October. I thought you'd come by to see,” she said, dusting her hands again and finding a garden stool to sit on. James brought me one too, which I settled into, muttering my thanks, while he leaned against the wall, watching.
“Work has been pretty hectic,” I half-lied. Perhaps I had gone too long without contact. She nodded politely, both of us knowing it wasn't the truth. But thankfully, she knew better than to push me.
Awkward silence descended, dense as lead, and I passed the time, watching my feet, shuffling them back and forth in the sand.
“I got a job,” James said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Really, where?” I asked.
“Community high school. To teach art.” He looked down at his hands as he spoke.
“Wow. That's wonderful.” I was genuinely happy for him. Who knew, right?
“You think so?” He smiled uncertainly. “I make paintings in my free time, too. You should see those.”
“Maybe later,” I said, and his face fell. “Before I leave,” I quickly corrected. Cursorily, I wondered why I felt bad whenever they were hurt by my disinterest. Wasn't it deserved?
“So you'll stay for dinner then?” he asked, quiet hope in his voice.
“Of course I will.”
“Let me get you a drink,” he said, running inside before I could stop him.
The moment he was out of earshot, Susan turned her icy glare on me. I watched her calmly, wondering what this was about.
“Do not patronize your father.” She snapped at me.
“I wasn’t,” I insisted. “Truly, I’m very happy and excited for him. And I want to see his paintings.”
“Do you think I didn't notice your eyes wandering? Judging?” She shifted on her feet.
I sighed.
“First you invite me into your home, and now you accuse me of looking around.”
“One day, you'll learn not to judge others.”
“If I judge, it's based on what I see.”
“All you see is the past. It's different now, we're different.”
“So you keep saying.”
