Contessa (13 page)

“
Interesting perspective,
”
he says.
“
Maybe you
’
re right, but I guess we
’
ll never know.
”

“
Nope,
”
I say, sullen, my eyes dropping to the floor.

“
But hey.
”
He lifts my chin back up, and once my eyes are trained on his, he drops his hand. I
’
d wanted him to leave it there, to pull me closer to him... to give me my first real kiss.
“
You
’
ve got the best dad any kid could hope for.
”

“
I don
’
t know about that,
”
I say as the heavy metal door opens up.

“
Livvy?
”

“
I
’
m here, Granna,
”
I yell from behind the paintings, stepping out into the open room so she can see me, my cheeks bright red with guilt. I glance at Jon, and he steps out behind me, quickly walking past me toward her. He
’
s blushing, too, even though we
’
ve done nothing wrong.

“
Donna,
”
he says with his hand outstretched.

“
Jon! My...
”
She shakes his hand and takes a long, hard look at him.
“
You
’
ve grown up since I last saw you!
”

“
Yeah, I guess my growth spurt finally hit. Took long enough.
”
He laughs easily with her.

“
Jacks told me you might stop by to walk Livvy home. Sweetheart, did you get your mother
’
s book?
”
I hold it up to show her, again feeling the need to prove my innocence.
“
Let
’
s get you home. It
’
s a school night.
”

“
Yeah, we
’
re ready. I was just showing him the mural.
”
I hand her the keys on our way out.

“
He painted that for Livvy
’
s mother,
”
she says.

“
She told me. It
’
s pretty incredible.
”

“
It was one of the last pieces he did. Definitely our favorite. Right, Liv?
”

“
Definitely.
”
It was
our
favorite, but Mom had protested when the painting showed up in the gallery. She didn
’
t want to look at it every day. In the end, though, Mom agreed that there was no better place for it than in his own gallery. As a compromise, Dad had some people come in to create partitions so it wasn
’
t something she
’
d have to see every time she walked across the room. Other paintings now hang in front of it, obstructing the view.

I know Dad didn
’
t want her looking at the painting every day, either. I
’
d often wondered if he could sense the longing, the sadness that was depicted so brilliantly in that mural. After our discussion the other day, I decide he probably can
’
t detect it, but instead just wanted to do what needed to be done to make my mother comfortable in her space. He always went out of his way to make sure she was happy and taken care of. I do like that about him. I do hope I find someone like that someday.

It
’
s nice that Jon
’
s here to make sure I make it home okay, although there
’
s never been any danger of me not making it home safely. I know it
’
s just an excuse for us to see one another, even if it is for a very brief period of time.

After locking up the Art Room and telling Granna goodbye, Jon and I walk at an intentionally slow pace, milking the time for all its worth. He takes the book out of my hand, and then replaces it with his own hand.

“
So Dad knows you
’
re here?
”

“
Yeah. He said he liked that I was looking out for you. He said you get annoyed when he does it.
”

“
I do. He used to walk up here and walk with me. I
’
m fifteen, you know? I can walk two blocks by myself.
”

“
But Livvy.
You
’
re fifteen
.
”
He repeats my rationalization in a serious tone.
“
And the daughter of a very well-known, very wealthy man in the city.
”

“
So?
”

“
So, you
’
d be an easy target if someone was desperate, or had a bone to pick with your Dad.
”

“
No one has a bone to pick with him. Everyone loves him.
”

“
True.
”

“
Plus, my brother
’
s a much easier target. That would hurt my dad more, anyway.
”

“
Why do you say that?
”
he asks curiously.

“
Only son. Only blood descendent. Heir to the throne. That kind of thing.
”

“
I don
’
t think your dad cares about that. That doesn
’
t make you any less his child.
”

I shrug my shoulders. He squeezes my hand gently and continues.
“
I think sometimes you
’
re naïve, Livvy. And very often your mind is not on your surroundings. I remember I used to have conversations with you, sitting at the same work bench, and you had no idea I was talking to you.
”
He raises his eyebrows, seeing my surprise.
“
That
’
s exactly my point.
”

“
Nuh-uh,
”
I argue with him.

“
I swear, Livvy! I was offended at first; I thought your were bored by my garrulous chatter–
”

“
Garrulous?
”

“
It
’
s an SAT word. You like that?
”
he says with a smile and a little bit of arrogance.
“
I assumed you thought my conversation was trivial, but I realized that
’
s just when you
’
re at your most inspired. So I eventually stopped talking and I just let you create.

“
It
’
s fascinating, how you work. How your mind works. But because of that, I don
’
t think you
’
re always aware of what
’
s going on around you.
”

“
Sure I am,
”
I tell him as I wrestle my hand away from his.
“
For instance, I know my dad will be able to see us in five more paces.
”
I smile pertly at him, and he nods in understanding.

“
Touché, Livvy.
”
He hands me back the book as we cross the street. I pull it into my chest, both of us keenly aware of my dad
’
s eyes watching us together as he sits alone on the front step of the patio.

“
Hey, Dad,
”
I call to him,
“
where
’
s Trey?
”

He stands up as he answers.
“
He
’
s running a fever, so we put him to bed early.
”
My brother had never been the healthiest child, a result of him being delivered six weeks early because of the difficulties my mom had faced in her pregnancy with him.

“
So you
’
re just out here waiting for me?
”

“
I guess I am,
”
he answers, then directs his attention to Jon.
“
Thanks for walking her home.
”

“
No problem, sir.
”

“
Did you need a ride home?
”

“
No, my friends are waiting for me at the library. I
’
m good.
”
He smiles at me and starts to back away.
“
I
’
ll see you next Thursday, Livvy?
”

“
Okay. Have fun studying.
”

“
Definitely,
”
he says sarcastically.
“
Good night, Jack.
”

“
Have a good week. Thanks again.
”

“
You
’
re welcome, sir.
”
He nods his head and turns around, beginning a slow jog up the street he and I just came from.

“
How was class?
”
Dad asks me, following me into the house.

“
Fine. A couple of the kids were sick, too. Maybe there
’
s something going around. Can you give this to mom?
”
I hand him her design book and put my stuff down next to the basement stairs, going back toward the kitchen to my brother
’
s room.

“
Hey, brat,
”
I say softly, entering his room when I see him tossing in his bed and throwing the blankets off.
“
You
’
re not feeling well?
”
I help him with the sheets, then press my hand to his forehead.
“
Yeah, you
’
re hot.
”

“
My head hurts,
”
he complains.

“
I can tell. I
’
m sorry. Want me to read to you or something?
”

He raises his eyebrows, shocked by my question.
“
Yeah,
”
he says, not letting the opportunity pass him by. I pick up the book on his nightstand and turn to the dog-eared page. He moves over in his twin-sized bed to make room for me. I sit against the headboard, and he rolls over on his side so he can watch me. He always says I make funny faces when I read, and even though I think he
’
s just easily entertained, I take a few minutes to try to make him laugh. It works, but he
’
s asleep within ten minutes.

“
Is he okay?
”
Mom asks when I go into the kitchen.

“
Yeah. This kind of puts a damper on Dad
’
s birthday dinner tomorrow, huh?
”

“
Yeah, we might have to postpone if Trey
’
s not feeling better.
”

“
Don
’
t do that,
”
I tell her, seeing my exit strategy for a family dinner I wasn
’
t really looking forward to.
“
Why don
’
t you and Dad go out, and I
’
ll stay here with Trey
?
We
’
ll be fine. You
’
ll have your phone on you.
”

“
No, there
’
s no way we could enjoy ourselves knowing he was here feeling awful.
”
She looks at me as if I
’
ve grown a third ear.
“
Wait, you want to
babysit
?
”

“
Well,
”
I tell her, trying to play it cool.
“
I mean, I don
’
t want Dad to have to spend his birthday here with a sick kid.
”