“My drawing?”
He nodded, but I just shrugged.
He pointed to his bedside drawer, and I opened it and lifted out a sketchpad from inside. He encouraged me to open it, and I found beautiful illustrations of landscapes and villages. Scenes of people walking through busy marketplaces and historical churches that looked like they were from the old country.
I looked up at him, and he pointed to the pad and then to his chest and nodded.
“You did these?”
“I was an artist before you were born. But it never got me anywhere. Then I met your mother, and I had to find a way to support us because we wanted to come to America. I had to put it aside and focus on bigger things.”
I was shocked. The images in his sketchpad were absolutely breathtaking. Way better than anything I could have ever come up with.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me? When I started drawing, you just kind of ignored it.”
He took his time with his words. “I didn’t want you to fail. I wanted a better life for you, but I see now maybe that wasn’t my choice in the first place.”
I didn’t know what to say. I kept looking down at my father’s artwork and was in awe at the level of detail and skill.
“Almost dying can put things in perspective. Go figure,” he huffed. “I want you to live a full life, Nairie. You’re so talented. More talented than I ever was. If this is what you want to do, we’ll support you.”
My eyes started to water, and I squeezed his hand. “What about Mom?”
He smiled assuredly. “She’ll come around. Have you thought of taking classes?”
I chuckled. “Actually, I’ve been taking one recently. It just ended though.”
“You should enroll in more.”
I smiled. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Okay, maybe I will. I actually submitted a piece to a contest too. They should be announcing the winner soon.”
“Show me.”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with him, but I took out my phone and showed him some sketches from class and walked him through the few options I had for the contest. It was odd and comforting talking to him about art and hearing his expertise. He knew so much, and it was jarring to listen to him speak about it so openly now. It felt like a puzzle piece finally fitting into place.
“I was debating between the octopus and the surfer.”
“I hope you went with the surfer.” He winked.
“Yes, actually.” I smiled fondly at the memory of William saying the same thing.
“What’s that smile for?”
“Nothing, it’s just . . .”
Baba patiently waited, and I was hesitant to bringWilliam up, but he seemed to be in such a different headspace than before.
“William said the same thing.”
“You’ve known this William for a long time, yes?”
“Yeah, since we were kids. He actually bought me my first art set.”
Baba looked guilty at the idea and smiled sadly. “I’m glad for that. Your aunt was telling me more about him. She said she was impressed. She thought you two were a good match.”
