“One of Alice’s photos is appearing in a group exhibition for a brand-new gallery,” Heather says. “It’s a very big deal. The opening is in a few weeks, but Alice doesn’t want to leave the lake to attend.”
“She thinks I’m too infirm to be left alone,” Nan adds.
“I don’t think that at all,” I say.
“And that it’s too much travel for me to come with her.”
“I don’t want you to wear yourself down.”
“Alice, help me understand where you’re coming from,” my father says. “This is a career highlight. If your fear of public speaking is stopping you, I’d be happy to hire a coach to make sure you’re prepared and comfortable. You’ll be wonderful.”
“It’s not that, Dad.” Though I do hate talking to an audience—I always freeze up. My heart rate spikes, my tongue may as well be made of concrete, and a cool, clammy perspiration chills me to the bone.
One by one, Heather and my father lay out their arguments as if they’re in court. Another, stronger person wouldn’t put up with this level of meddling. Heather certainly doesn’t allow anyone to tell her how to manage her life. But I can only look for the nearest exit.
“We only want the best for you, Turtle,” Heather says.
I’m too angry to explain myself.
“Are we done now?” My voice is barely louder than a whisper.
“What do you think, Charlie?” Nan asks.
Charlie fixes his gaze on me. “I think it’s time to end this call.” And then he walks over to the phone and hangs up on my sister and father.
I blink at him, stunned. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I shake my head. I turn to Nan, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Why would you do that to me? I’m a grown woman.Imake my decisions.”
“I thought it would help.”
“You embarrassed me. I’m trying to respect your independence and privacy when you ask me to. I’ve been trying to give you what you need.” My voice rises in an unfamiliar way. “I’m here foryou. Why can’t you be here for me, too?”
Nan flinches, and it feels awful.
“I need some space.” Without waiting, I exit the cottage and head straight for the boathouse.
Charlie gives me space for twelve minutes. When he finds me, I’m sitting on one of the beds, knees bent to my chest, crying. He doesn’t say anything, just sits beside me and pulls me into his arms. Somehow, it only makes me sob harder.
“I’m here,” he whispers into my hair. “You’ll be okay.”
Eventually the tears ebb, but Charlie keeps holding me. It’s quiet except for a light rain tapping against the roof and windows. I could stay here forever.
“Alice?”
I make a mumbling acknowledgment against his chest.
“I have an idea that might cheer you up.”
I gaze at him. He’s wearing a green T-shirt with an image of two Muskoka chairs on a dock on the front that Nan has obviously found for him.
“Want to do some bad art together?”
Make a bunch of bad art.Number seven.
We sit opposite each other at the small table in the boathouse, blank pieces of paper and pencils in front of us.
