"Oh, sweet girl." Blake lifted her, and I finally reached them. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay. But I do need my arms to teach." Then she addressed Lilliana, "I can come around and see your painting in a bit, okay?"
Blake handed Lilliana to me, and I hovered nearby for a few minutes while Blake led the class through the supplies at their stations, and when she started with the background, I asked Lilliana if she wanted to go back to our station to paint, and she nodded.
Breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't caused a fit, I made my way back to our station and opened the paints, pouring a little color into each spot on the pallet. I told Lilliana what to do and let her stand on a stool so that she could reach. I stood behind her, ready to catch her if she started to fall.
It wasn't as good as what Blake was doing, but it wasn't half bad. I attributed her ability to Blake's patient instruction over the last few weeks.
Blake's voice drifted through the room. She used clear direction to tell us what to do, offering encouragement and reminding us that art didn't have to be perfect. And that we could do the techniques over again to get better.
She was the perfect mix of firm and encouraging. She moved around the room as she taught, giving individual instruction. Everyone seemed to be enjoying her class.
When Blake got to us, she said, "This is amazing. You've gotten so good at backgrounds."
It was a mix of different colors to me, but it was good for a toddler. Then Blake winked at me, and I wanted to pull her in for a kiss. "You're doing great, Dad."
I shook my head. "This is all you. You've been painting with her every day, and it shows."
"Aw. Thank you," Blake said before Hazel pulled her away.
We were supposed to let the background dry for fifteen minutes, so we walked around and mingled. There was coffee for the adults and juice and donuts for the kids.
Once the class resumed, Lilliana wasn't interested in drawing a tree. It was much more difficult for her than a colored background, so I followed her around the children's section where she played with books and toys.
The class was a mix of the gals who spent time at the senior center, parents with their kids, and a few adults who were interested in painting.
Blake's face was animated when she talked, and she was quick to answer any questions. I was proud of her. It was obvious that she loved teaching and sharing her love of painting with others.
My heart sank a little at the thought because I should allow her to pursue her dream of being an art therapist. I shouldn't hold her back with declarations of love. Not when it was so clear where her future should be, and it wasn't with me.
I was holding her back. She was meant for so much more than this small island.
My heart ached, but I knew I couldn't ask her to stay or she'd resent me at some point. She wasn't meant to be a nanny, no matter how good she was at it. She was meant to share her joy with everyone else. And the best way for her to do that was to get her degree in art therapy.
I'd been afraid to tell her how I felt because I wasn't sure that she felt the same. But now, things had become so clear. I was the anchor on Blake's future, and I couldn't be that anymore.
I needed to cut her lose and let her do her thing.
I couldn't help but think I was the reason she was so conflicted. I needed to put some distance between us, show her that she could do whatever it is that she wanted.
I wanted to lift her up, be the reason why she went for it. Not the one who stopped her from pursuing her dreams.
We were a summer fling, but in the fall, she'd go back to her real life.
The one where she impressed everyone with her intelligence and grace. She'd share her passion with everyone and be a better person for it.
I'd already made my choices. I wanted to be the best single dad I could be, while also being a supportive brother and son. I loved working with my family here on the island. I had no reason to leave.
My heart hurt while I watched the rest of the class, and during the break before the second class, Blake stopped by us to tell Lilliana, "We'll finish your painting at home."
But Lilliana was more interested in putting Legos on the Lego wall than pausing to talk to Blake or me.
Blake straightened and asked me, "How are you?"
"This is amazing. I'm so proud of you."
Blake looked around at the room. "It's a little overwhelming. I had no idea so many people were interested in painting. People have been asking if this will become a weekly thing, and whether I'd be willing to host painting parties. Apparently, people are willing to spend a lot of money to host something like this in their house. I thought I’d only want to teach children, but this experience opened my mind up to the possibilities of teaching all age levels.”
