“Obviously, there are cranes everywhere. The skyline is a disaster. But what’s being built is offices, hotels, luxury apartments. Not a lot out there for your average renter. And the lack of planning for social housing has only made things worse.”
“Don’t get James started on the lack of urban planning. He’s an architect.” Glenda stood in the kitchen doorway. “You’re home early,” she said to her husband.
“Client decided to make it a Zoom meeting. And you’re rather late. The girls and I missed you.”
Her gaze skated over the kitchen island—four mugs, a plate, two little bowls smeared with peanut butter. “You look very cozy to me.”
I felt suddenly awkward. “I should go.”
“Don’t rush off on Glenda’s account. Dee here was telling me she’s having trouble finding housing,” James said.
Glenda sighed. “A perennial student problem, I’m afraid.”
“I thought perhaps we might offer her a solution.”
A look passed between them. “Girls, it’s homework time,” Glenda said.
Sophie slid obediently off her stool.
“I don’t have any homework,” Lily said.
“I thought you had a story due in English,” Glenda said.
“Mom. Not until Monday.”
“Which means you should get started now.”
“I don’t want to. It’s boring. School is boring. I don’t like any of my classes, except art.”
Glenda’s face froze. I felt a stab of sympathy for her. She was a senior female academic. Her daughter’s contempt for school must feel like a personal rejection.
“You like to draw?” I asked.
“Yeah. So?” asked Lily.
It was really none of my business. I rinsed my tea mug in the sink. “I was just wondering... Would your teacher let you tell your story with pictures? Like a comic book.”
“That would be cool.”
“Get out the assignment and we’ll see,” Glenda said.
“It’s in my room.”
Glenda raised her eyebrows in gentle reproof.
“Fine,” Lily grumbled, and stomped upstairs with her sister.
I cleared their snack bowls from the marble island.
“I don’t see how drawing pictures helps develop her writing,” James said.
I swallowed. “Well...”
“Comics require creating a story line, organizing and presenting ideas, and producing dialogue. All very pertinent skills.” Glenda looked at me. “You’re good with children.”
I flushed at her praise. Okay, so she wasn’t complimenting my writing or my out-of-the-box thinking. But her approval still made me feel good. “Toni—my sister?—she was sort of the same way.” Disinterested in study, always drawing in the margins of her notebooks. “I used to find things for her to do.” Keeping her busy. Keeping her happy. Keeping her quiet, so we didn’t disturb whoever we were staying with.
I put my empty mug in the dishwasher along with the girls’ bowls.
