There was, of course, a tabletop-sized Christmas tree on a trunk near the door. When she hit the wall switch, the tree lights began to blink.
But the best part of the studio was the big picture windows with views of the pool deck above a shady lawn leading down to the lake. Inthe distance, across the water and dotting the low cliffs, were houses with Christmas trees and lights shimmering on the water. A small waterfront hamlet was on the opposite shore, catering to the lake crowds. She and Ryan had taken the kids there one summer for a day on the water, but Ryan had gotten so frustrated with their boat rental that they’d ended up going home early, much to the disappointment of the boys. Fun times.
Amy wrestled her easel into place, angled so she could see out the windows for inspiration.
She had her sketchbook, her pencils, her paints, her canvasses. All she had to do was come up with three great concepts and paint them.Easy-peasy(which, she recalled, Ethan had admonished her to never say again in front of his best friend). Okay, three paintings in two weeks should be easy to accomplish. She was always thinking of scenes. Sometimes, she’d love an idea so much, she would think about it for weeks. Here, she could put them on paper the moment she had them, and not after work or on the weekend.
So…? Come on, ideas. Go ahead and pop into the old noggin. Anything Christmas-y or tourist-y will do to get me started.
Nothing. Not a single idea popped up. Maybe because she was perhaps a bit frozen with the enormity of the task in front of her. It was one thing to think about paintings that would please her. It was an entirely different thing to think about paintings that would please contest judges. Much less buyers. She’d been lucky with the scene of her backyard selling. There were so many shades of green in that painting, and green was people-pleasing. But Christmas themed? That was a completely different animal.
She thought maybe some music would help her think. Or even flipping through the pages of theRed River Artmagazine someone had left on the sliver of shelves on one wall. She settled into the chair and began to flip through the pages…only to be interrupted by the pinging of her phone, indicating a text. She had different ringtones for each member ofher family so she would know just how annoyed or alarmed to be before she ever picked up. Ethan was the first to breach her day, and of course she picked up her phone, giving in to her constant fear that something had happened and her son was having an existential crisis.
No crisis, apparently. Ethan seemed perfectly fine, and had decided that English class was a good time to text her cat videos. The first video was of a cat wearing a sombrero and a mariachi uniform. The second, a cat batting a couple of blocks from the bottom of a Jenga tower and it not falling. Ethan was funny in that he tended to send his videos apropos of nothing, and without any sort of commentary. She found them odd because they didn’t have a cat and, as far as she knew, Ethan did not aspire to own one.
She’d honestly expected to hear from Jonah, but he’d been unusually quiet today, which of course worried her. He was not above ditching school and going to the park to smoke weed with his friends. She’d told him that marijuana use was strictly prohibited, and he’d said, horrified, “Don’t call it that. It’sweed.”
Amy had stared at him, amazed by his takeaway. “Okay…whatever you want to call it, you are not allowed to have it.”
“God, Mom, you’re so embarrassing,” he’d said, and had stormed off. Since then, she’d imagined a whole underbelly world of drug dealers preying on idiot teenagers, of which her son was often a card-carrying member. Or his silence could be the other constant fear she had—that he was flirting at school, taking things too far with a girl. Giving her grandkids before she wanted them. She had tried to talk to him about condoms, too, but he had shouted “Moooom, staahp!” and had fled the room.
And then again, it was entirely possible that none of those things were true, and the reason he hadn’t texted was because he was preoccupied with the food stores in his dad’s house.
A half hour after receiving Ethan’s tranche of videos, Kevin texted her with a burning question:
Am I supposed to take out the trash
Amy tried to imagine Kevin’s thought process in asking that. It was that sort of question that made Amy worry about her brother’s mental capacity. Once, when she was a teenager, she’d asked her mother, “Do you think maybe Kevin is, you know, stupid?”
“What are you talking about?” her mother had shrieked. “Kevin is brilliant! Both my children are brilliant!”
“I’m not brilliant, Mom,” Amy had snorted.
“Well, Kevin is. He’s just distracted in that way all geniuses are. Not everyone can be as overly organized as you are, Amy Jean.”
Mostly, Amy had been miffed that her mother hadn’t pushed back harder on Amy’s assertion that she wasn’t brilliant. Second, she’d been flabbergasted that her mother thought Kevin was a genius. And third, her mother thought she was overly organized? Well, she wasn’t. Never had been. Just look at her inability to get started on a sketch today.
What she would say for herself was that she was responsible.Veryresponsible. So responsible that she had somehow ended up responsible for everything and everyone in the free world.
Her phone pinged and she reluctantly glanced down. This one was from her father.
Your mother is not responding to my texts?
She puzzled over his use of the question mark. Did he mean he was uncertain if her mother was responding or not? Did he think Amy had told him Mom was not responding and was double-checking? And in any case, what did he think Amy was supposed to do about it?
She texted,Try calling her.
I’d rather text because Mom gets a little loud on the phone.
And what did that mean? His hearing was affected? Or did he expect an argument? Whatever it was, Amy was not getting in the middle of the midlife crisis her parents were apparently going through. She was about to text him to talk to Kevin when Ed texted her.
“Comeon,” Amy grumbled.
How’s the lake house? Gone fishing yet? Better get out there before that winter storm comes through. Supposed to be bad.
Texans obsessed about all weather fronts, but in her experience, they rarely seemed to come in guns blazing like they all hoped.
Hey, I’m in your office looking for that file on sexism in the workplace training? Our insurance company says we have to do it. Be good to knock that out before the holidays so we don’t have to bother with it in the new year.
