“No, thank you,” he said as he started laying out the pastels in a perfect line.
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Can I go back and talk to your dad for a second?”
“He’s probably right there. He always watches me.” With that Carson more or less dismissed her as he lost himself in experimenting with the pastels.
“If you want a new sheet, just take one out of the sketch book, okay?” she said, then walked out of the room and went back to the front room, Carson’s father was just a few steps ahead of her the entire way.
When they reached the main room he stopped and turned around to face her.”That was amazing,” he said.
Daisy smiled. “It was easy. He’s a very sweet kid.”
“He gets picked on so badly. It takes every ounce of where-with-all I have to leave him at school every day. He’s just not like other kids and they give him no break at all. I’ve always taught him that he doesn’t have to like everybody, but has to be decent to everybody. Seems he must be the only one who’s taught that.”
“I’m sorry, I know his name is Carson, but I didn’t catch your name,” Daisy said.
“Sorry, I often introduce him and forget to introduce myself. I’m Charlie, Charles Blessey.”
“Hi, Charlie. I’m Daisy Marchande’.”
“It’s good to meet you. You seem to have a way of winning Carson over. I’m impressed. It’s all I can do to get him to talk to anybody but me.”
Daisy smiled softly. “Well, he said something to me that struck a note. He said that the colors of the pastels he chose make him breathe better. Which I get. I often chose colors and clothes and anything at all really, based on how they make me feel. Not to the touch, but in here,” she said, touching her chest. “I’d like a chance to teach him how to draw and use the pastels to help him express himself. I think it might make a huge difference in how he interacts with the world around him. If that’s alright with you and your wife.”
“Oh, it’s just me and Carson now.”
“I’m sorry,” Daisy said.
“It’s alright. Been a long time.” Charlie looked over Daisy’s shoulder toward the art room Carson was in using the pastels Daisy had given him. “It’s not that I don’t want him to have the experience, it’s just that I’m so busy at work, it might be hard to get him here every day at the same time. I never know when I’m going to have to work overtime.”
“I’m done,” Carson said, walking into the room with his sheet of paper in his hand, his hands and clothes stained with pastel dust. He walked right up to Daisy and handed her his page, then went to stand next to his father.
Daisy looked down at the page in her hand, then quickly glanced up at his father. Slowly she extended her hand, showing him the drawing. It was a perfect portrait of her. It was done in brown and tan and gold, but there was no doubt it was her. “Maybe he could teach me a thing or two,” she said.
Charlie looked closely at the page, then at her before focusing on the page again. “I’ll find a way to get him here.”
“It doesn’t have to be every day. Just whenever you find the time. I’ll make time.”
“Is it okay?” Carson said.
“Carson, it is the most beautiful picture of me that I’ve ever seen,” Daisy said.
“I didn’t know you could draw like that, buddy,” Charlie said.
“I like to draw.”
“I hope you’ll come back to draw with me again,” Daisy said.
“Maybe,” Carson said.
Charlie rested a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiled at Daisy. “This has been very interesting, Daisy. We’ll definitely see you again soon.”
“Looking forward to it,” she said, extending her hand to shake his.
Charlie held her hand a little longer than was comfortable for her.
She ended up backing up a step as she took her hand back. Visibly shaken, she clasped her hands together behind herself and smiled nervously at the father and son as they started toward the door. “Bye, Carson.”
He didn’t look back, but he lifted his hand and waggled it in her direction.
