Make Me Yours(4)

My mother stands behind his right shoulder, and a steaming fresh plate is in front of him.

“It’s nothing, really.” I hold out the brown folder.

He takes it, and my breath stills.

My stomach is sick.

What will my father see when he looks at my representation of his face? Will he see the anger and disapproval always looking back at me? Or will it do something to his heart, break the stone wall around it? Or will he only see what he sees every day in the mirror? Are disappointment and frustration how he views the world?

The heavy brown cover opens, and his expression doesn’t change as he studies the lines and shading, the positive and negative space.

My clasped hands squeeze tighter. I don’t want him digging deeper, turning the page and seeing my attempts at copying Klimt or Degas.

The truth is, I agree with Ms. Hughes. I’m so proud of my art. The portrait of my father is an amazing likeness, even if it is distant and cold. When I’m drawing, I feel like I’m alive, and the harder I work, the more it turns out exactly as I’d hoped.

It’s exciting and fulfilling…

I don’t want him to take what I love and kill it.

He closes the cover and tosses it aside. “A useless degree.”

“I told her I wasn’t interested.” I speak quietly, submissively.

He hates that.

His eyes don’t leave his plate. I watch as he slices a sticky dumpling with a knife and fork and puts the piece in his mouth. My father refuses to use chopsticks.

“That is all.”

I’m dismissed, and my artistic dreams fall away, like the portrait inside that folder.

Like the letter, which is never returned.





1





Ruby


Twelve years later…





“I’ve hit rock bottom.” I flop on the couch in Drew’s office at the Friends Care clinic where we both work.

Yep, I’m a licensed therapist… with two clients, both shared with Drew, who has like twenty.

So I’m not the resounding success I’d expected, but Drew keeps telling me it takes time to build my practice, especially in a town the size of Oakville…

Trust me, based on the dating scene alone, I get it.

“What’s wrong now?” She stands and walks to the closet at the back of the room.

“HookUp4Luv matched me with Ralph Stern.”

“The Almond King!” My best friend laughs for the first time in a week. “Did you know he has a plan for revolutionizing Oakville’s economy?”

Clutching my forehead, I groan. “Gah—yes! He’s told me his plan five hundred times.”

“Almonds are the fruit of the future.” She pauses. “Are they fruits or nuts?”

“Who knows? They grow on trees…”

“I’ll tell you who knows.”

“Don’t say his name.”

“The future king of your little almond patch.”

“If you’re referring to my vagina, that’s just gross.” She laughs more, and I feel a twinge of guilt. “Am I being a bitch?”

“Umm… No.”

“Good. Because Ralph is a hard no.”

It’s not that he’s a bad guy. He’s just so… so… Sheldon Cooper. Still, my mom is in my head giving me a disapproving look. Be kind to everyone, Ruby Banks.

“I’ve dated every match in the tri-county area, and this is it. Ralph Stern is the last man on Earth.”

Drew laughs even more, and I have an inspiration. “Screw the dating apps. We’re going out tonight—just you and me.”

Her laugh disappears, and she’s shaking her head before the words even start. “Nope. Not interested. No.”

“Yes.” I’m off the couch and catching her by the arms. “You’ve been cooped up alone in that big old house since your dad went in the nursing home. You’re going out with me.” I pull her trench coat on her shoulders. “Anyway, I’m your ride, so you can’t argue.”

“You’re kidnapping me?”

“If that’s what it takes.” I lead her out the glass entrance, waiting as she locks the doors, then she follows me to my lime-green Subaru.

“Do you think it’s responsible to blow your paycheck on a night out?”

“Yes, my sad little paycheck only covers one night out. Thanks for reminding me.” We’re in the car, and I drive us to my mom’s house. “Kenneth Banks was so adamant about a useful degree. I’m a licensed therapist, and I can’t pay my bills.”

“Stop it. You’re building your practice.” Drew looks out the window, adding under her breath. “Kenneth Banks was a royal ass.”

“It’s okay. You can say it out loud.” Five turns, and we’re at Ma’s. “I’m confronting my daddy issues.” Her eyebrows shoot up, but I hold up a hand. “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”

“Drew!” Mom meets us inside the door, giving my friend a long hug. She pretty much adopted Drew after her mother died when we were eight. “We prayed for your father this morning at church, and I burned incense to the Buddha when I got home.”