Read The Art of My Life Online
Authors: Ann Lee Miller
Tags: #romance, #art, #sailing, #jail, #marijuana abuse
The Art of My Life (7 page)
He climbed down the companionway into
the gloom. Light from a porthole lit the Ziplock baggie of brown
buds on the counter and left the sketch pad beside it in shadow. He
could almost smell the sun-warmed weed through the plastic—Henna’s
hybrid—hear the crackle of fresh paper as he rolled a joint, feel
the pressure of the cigarette between his lips, taste the sweetness
of the smoke before it warmed his chest with
I-don’t-care.
His hand halted over the baggie. Aly’s
face, then Missy’s flashed in his mind. His hand closed around the
sketchbook instead.
Van Gogh’s toe nails clicked across
the deck, stopping and starting again from bow to stern. The dog
was trying to figure out why they were stuck in the middle of the
Intercoastal.
“
Let me know if you get an
answer, old boy,” he yelled through the hatch.
Van Gogh answered with a single
woof.
He could blame the economy, his
grandparents for spotty maintenance of the boat, too few tourists
visiting New Smyrna Beach when Daytona Beach lay thirty miles
north. But getting out of this mess was his
responsibility.
“
What am I supposed to
do?” The words blurted out before he thought about who he was
talking to. So much God-think had stuck inside him from
childhood—like a hairball in a cat’s throat. Ever so often he
coughed it up when he least expected. Pissing him off.
He’d made a run at God two years ago
to win ultra-spiritual Raine—the girl he thought he’d fallen in
love with—but he couldn’t even get faith right when he wanted to.
Maybe he hadn’t really wanted to succeed. Raine had caught him
mid-stride, running from his parents’ religion. Even she couldn’t
stop the momentum.
But Raine had turned out to be nothing
more than a shaving nick. He stood to lose the
Escape
. And
Aly. A slice to the jugular.
His eyes focused on the mindless
doodling on the sketch pad in his hands. In the center of the page
was Aly’s face. All the designs on the page made Aly the focal
point. A frisson of possibility rippled through him.
Fish waded through the surf, and the
cool October air raised gooseflesh on his upper body where he’d
peeled away the top half of his wetsuit. His gaze caught on a girl
running toward him on the hard sand at water’s edge.
He readjusted his board under his arm
and headed for shore. He should have enjoyed his first day off in
two weeks, but surfing without Cal sucked. And knifing Cal when
he’d been kicked out of the marina last week had felt like stabbing
himself. Especially, after being caught by Missy—the moral
police.
As if thinking about Missy made a
random runner look like her, he eyed a compact form in shades
coming down the beach toward him. A knot of brown curls sprouted
atop her visor. A swath of olive skin separated a sports bra from
running shorts. No mistake, the girl was Missy. He watched the
muscles in her legs lengthen and contract as she pummeled the sand.
Beautiful.
She didn’t slow as she approached
him.
“
Whoa, Missy, hold
up.”
She stopped, breathing hard. Sweat
glistened on her skin.
His eyes swept over her. She had her
father’s coloring and sturdy build, but the curves were all Missy.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, about the other day. I was out of
line. But you don’t know what went down between me and Cal.” He
stared at her sunglasses, wishing he could see her eyes.
“
I know you two were like
brothers, closer than he and Jesse ever were.”
“
Yeah, well, the thing is,
it’s between me and Cal.” He measured the words carefully, not
wanting to set her off all over again.
Silence hung between them.
Missy sighed. “I just want you guys to
work it out.”
“
I’m sorry I called you
annoying that night on the dock. You weren’t annoying as a kid, and
you’re not annoying now. I was pissed because you got in my face
about my family.”
Missy smiled a little, and his gut
relaxed.
Her sunglasses reflected double images
of his face. “I’m opinionated, and it gets me into trouble. A
lot.”
He shifted the board into his other
arm. “Yeah. I remember.” He didn’t know how to talk to her now that
she wasn’t a kid. “Cal got booted out of the marina the day you
stopped by.”
Missy swiped off her glasses, her eyes
wide with fear. “What happened?”
“
No money for
rent.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I had things
out with Cal. We’re better. But it feels fragile. He could cut me
out of his life again in a heartbeat…. He seems sincere, but I
don’t understand why he blows cold, then hot.”
“
He’s sober at the moment.
When he’s smoking constantly, he drops out of everybody’s life.”
Fish set his board down and leaned it against his leg.
She eyed him. “But it’s okay for you
to smoke?”
“
There’s a difference
between smoking on rare occasions and as a life. I have to study,
work, go to class. Too much weed saps my drive to get anything
done.”
“
My poster
children-grandparents, Exhibit A, scared me straight.”
“
Anyway, smoking weed
could sabotage my running for office.”
Missy shook her head. “I never
understood why you wanted to go into politics.”
“
Maybe because I want to
make a difference. You, better than a lot of people, know
government has fascinated me since I started high school. Don’t you
remember our arguing both sides of issues, then switching—the year
I lived with your family?”
“
Ha! Why do you think I
went out for the debate team?” She waved her comment away with her
hand. “I mean your, um, sorta broody, introverted personality is
more suited for—I don’t know—legal aid.”
“
Pro bono work for the
indigent?”
“
Yeah, something like
that. You always pull for the underdog. I think that’s why you were
kind to me when I was a kid.”
He felt flummoxed. For over ten years
he’d planned on going into politics. But Missy’s idea sparked
something to life inside.
Missy dropped her shades back down on
her nose. “So, I made up with Cal. Now, it’s your turn.”
“
I’m over his—”
“
You need to make
peace—”
“
Whatever. When you’re one
hundred percent okay with Cal, then come talk to me.”
She touched her heart. “I’m working on
it.”
He squinted at the spot below her
fingers for a beat too long. “Waste of time. Cal should kiss your
feet, your whole family’s feet, for propping him up. He needs to
learn to stand on his own two feet. Everything I have, I’ve worked
for. It hasn’t been given to me by my family.”
“
I don’t have the option
of exing him out of my life. I don’t think you do either.” She held
up a hand. “Oh, wait. You didn’t even care when I disappeared from
your orbit.”
“
Ouch.”
Missy pressed the pads of three
fingers into his damp chest. “Anyway, my point is, I think you have
a heart under there somewhere and you won’t be able to stop caring
about Cal any more than I will.”
Her touch and her belief that he was a
better man than he believed warmed the chill from his skin. “You
want to grab a water, Gatorade, something from the
7-Eleven?”
“
Just leave it be. Go back
to oblivious. I’ve always liked you. That’s not going to change.
We’re good.” Missy jogged away.
He didn’t want to go back. And he was
going to find out what had her so PO’d at him.
October 14 (second
post)
Oh, and to respond to a
question I had yesterday—one that comes up every so often—the
paintings on The Art of My Life are not my work. I’m more of an art
lover than an artist. A friend did the paintings; but for reasons
I’m not up for sharing, he shall remain anonymous.
Aly at
www.The-Art-Of-My-Life.blogspot.com
Cal slammed the door of his Jeep and
pocketed his keys. Driving again fueled his optimism about inviting
Aly to stop by the dock after work. He had thirty-five cents to his
name after swinging by Winn Dixie for pumpernickel bread and Chunky
Monkey. He could kiss Missy for washing his car and leaving him
with a full tank of gas.
He pushed open the dock gate and
glanced at the darkening sky. If the storm would just hold off
until he had a chance to show Aly the
Escape’s
refitting,
feed her some supper, and enlist her help before she freaked out
about the weather.
Storms had terrified Aly since she was
a little girl in Miami and a tree crashed through their roof during
a hurricane. He could still feel Aly shaking in his arms when they
holed up under her desk in the camp office during a waterspout the
summer she interned at the camp. She’d curled up in a fetal
position and buried her face in his chest for the duration. He
smiled. Sometimes he liked her fear of storms.
“
Hey,
stranger.”
Cal’s head popped up. Evie, the last
person he wanted to see right now. The last person Aly needed to
see. “I’m kind of in a hurry. I’ll catch you later.”
Evie jogged up the pier beside her
boat in her daisy dukes and came alongside him as he walked up the
dock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fish step out of his
cabin.
“
You lonely anchored out
there all by yourself?” Evie said. “I could keep you
company.”
“
No doubt.”
“
What’s that supposed to
mean?”
Cal set his bag of groceries in the
stern of his dinghy, climbed into the boat, and untied the painter
from the dock. “I don’t need any company.”
Cal scanned the marina.
Aly, in a mint pant suit, walked along
the sidewalk toward the pier. She hadn’t seen him yet.
Evie followed his gaze. “Oh, it’s
her
.”
The tinge of hysteria in her voice
clenched Cal’s stomach. He had to get rid of Evie before Aly saw
them talking. Just Evie’s presence on the dock could sabotage
everything.
Aly picked her way up the pier,
careful not to catch her high heels between the boards of the
dock.
“
Evie, we haven’t gone out
in at least six months. You don’t have any claim on me.”
“
Maybe I do. Starr and I
are like BFFs these days.”
“
Then go out with Mom and
leave me alone.”
Cal’s eyes welded to Aly as she neared
the
Escape’s
vacant slip. She spotted Evie first, and her
pale complexion whitened another shade. Then, Aly’s eyes dropped to
him where he bounced in the dinghy, chest-level with the
dock.
“
Hey, Al. I’m anchored
out—”
Evie raised her voice. “What are you
staring at?”
Cal’s attention snapped to
Evie.
But Evie had shouted to Fish, who
stood on the dock behind his boat.
“
I bet you want some of
this.” She smacked her backside and the frayed edge of her shorts.
“News flash. Ain’t happenin’. My heart belongs to Cal.”
“
Evie, let it go,” Cal
ground out.
“
A dose of truth is just
what the doctor ordered.” Evie flounced off toward her
boat.
Cal caught Aly with his eyes. “I’m
sorry about the drama. Come on, let me take you out to the
Escape
.” He held his breath as she towered over him, her jaw
clenched.
Finally, she wilted to the edge of the
finger pier, sat down, and kicked her shoes off. They clunked into
the bottom of the boat one at a time. “It’s been over two years.
Maybe I can be adult about this, and we can be friends. Maybe not
best friends, but more than we have been lately,” Aly
said.
The breath rushed out of his lungs.
“Okay then.” He gripped the dock and reached a hand toward
Aly.
Her fingers closed around his, and she
slipped into the boat. Heat fanned through his body. Whoa. He’d
touched Aly a thousand times and never felt this way.
Aly’s hand detached from his, and she
scooted onto the stern bench in the back of the boat. Her gaze
searched the billowing clouds.
Cal stared at Aly’s stocking-covered
toes as he rowed. He looked up and caught Aly watching
him.
He sucked up his courage. “I know it’s
time to call in the loan next week. I should have contacted you
sooner. I kept thinking things would turn around.”
“
There’s not much I can do
at this point. It’s out of my hands. If you’d kept in touch with
the bank, they might have given you some leeway, but….”
“
Just let me show you the
boat.”
Aly’s eyes went soft, her voice
gentle. “You taught me to sail on the
Escape.
I’ve been on
her a dozen times over the years. I know what she looks
like.”
“
Humor me.”
“
I am.”