I glance over the rubric more times than I can count. Every pass is void of answers but drowning in reminders. There are writers out there who can read this set of standards and produce something worthwhile.
I need that to be me, too. The thought haunts me later, while I’m trying to sleep. Different people that could work as Rosie’s suggested “third party” get thrown around in my head. The wildest of options come to mind. And with the desperation chasing me to sleep, I consider every one of them.
None of them are ideal. But beggars can’t be choosers.
four
GRANT
Sometimes I thinkthe silence of my apartment is going to drive me crazy. Then I spend twenty minutes in the middle of Boston’s Public Garden filled with rowdy kids and frustrated parents, and realize I take the quiet for granted.
“Clementine!” Heath’s timbering voice should be loud enough to strike fear in any normal kid. His four-year-old daughter, however, is not a normal kid. “Let go of that pigeon right now!”
The brown-eyed ball of energy only laughs at my cousin’s expense and runs off, Heath chasing after her. The internet warned him about the terrible twos when Clem was born. Nobody mentioned this.
Although my niece’s behavior is chaotic and occasionally overwhelming, I’m happy to spend time with her and her dad. Heath has always been more like a brother to me than a cousin. My mom welcomed him into our home every holiday, never denied him a place to stay when he got kicked out of his parents’place, and she helped him back onto his feet once he decided to get ahold of his life.
After my mom passed, I seriously considered if I wanted to stay in Boston. There are a lot of things in this city that remind me of her, and I struggled to navigate those emotions. It’s my cousin Heath, his daughter Clem, and his wife Paris that ground me to the city I love.
They are what I have left of my family. They are the people I hold closest to my chest.
Heath and I are responsible for Clem today, with Paris on another business trip. A day with my niece may leave me exhausted, but it’s never boring.
“Grant.” Clem has thankfully set the bird free, but is giving my brawny, six-foot something cousin a true run for his money. She’s twisting and wiggling tirelessly in his arms, and Heath’s breaths are becoming shallow. “A little help here, please?”
Laughing, I walk towards them and step into my niece’s field of vision.
“Clem.” I gently poke at her stomach, earning a flow of giggles. A large smile grows on my face. Even if she’s difficult at times, Clem is the cutest kid I’ve ever seen. “How about giving your dad a break and hanging out with Uncle Grant for a minute?”
Her enthusiasm is instant. Giggling and jumping into my arms, I spin her around while thinking how lucky I am to have people like this.
“Uncle Grant,” Clem whispers while her dad plops down onto our picnic blanket. “My dad is getting old.”
I chuckle. I’m about to defend him, tell her a man in his early thirties is the furthest thing from old, but he barely lifts his head for half a second before giving up and laying back onto the blanket.
Sighing, I nod and place her down next to him. “I think so too.”
“I can hear you, you know.”
“For your age? That’s pretty good.”
He rips out some grass and tosses it at me, but the blades fall back onto the ground in a pile.
I let him take his rest, although with Clem it’s sure to be temporary, and set her up with a coloring book. My niece happily takes ahold of her worn-out crayons before saying she’ll color a picture for me.
My heart warms. Cutest kid in the world.
“Thanks, kiddo.”
I cross my legs and get comfortable next to Heath, leaning back to take in the sun. Flowers are starting to bloom again. As much as I love dressing in knitted neutrals during winter and fall, spring has a hold over my heart.
My cousin wraps up his dad power nap, huffing and sitting up next to me. “How’s your art stuff going?”
“Not bad. Got commissioned to draw a few things, made some extra money. I illustrated a pet portrait, too.”
“Hey, congrats man!” He pats a hand onto my shoulder and smiles. “That’s gonna be great for your portfolio. Proud of you for keeping at it.”
Heath knew my goals and ambitions before Keller started showering me with cash and gifts. He saw the version of me that worked part-time and did commissions on the side during my early years of undergrad. He doesn’t make comments that I won’t have to worry about paying the bills anymore, or getting a full portfolio done because my father can take care of it.
