Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

“Yeah,” he answers me, frowning.

I slide onto the stool that Izzie was sitting on so I’m eye level with him. “What’s wrong? Are you not excited about showing your family your sculptures? They’re really good, Clayton.”

“I... I am, I just...” He sighs. “I just wish that my mom could be here.”

Izzie bounces over with my mom and picks up a corner of the painting. “Do you like it, Miss J? Do you?”

“It’s very well painted, Izzie. Well done to you both,” I reply.

Mom gives me a questioning look and head tilt toward Clayton who has walked over to the beanbags; his head stuck in a book. I mouth, “Not now,” to her and she nods, helping Izzie carry her painting through to the back.

Walking over to Clayton, I’m halted in my tracks by three other students that run up to me, each wanting to pull me in a different direction to look at their pieces that have been set up. I desperately want to talk to him but decide he may need some space before I do, so I turn on my heels and walk toward the gallery set up in the back.

Before I know it, parents are arriving to pick up their kids and I’m left wondering if Clayton will be okay because I didn’t get to talk to him before he left. I have to put him out of my mind and get to work on everything else that needs to be done before tonight, otherwise it’ll never get finished.

Two hours later, Mom walks over to me, wiping her hands on a cloth. “That’s all the food prepped. Get on home, you need to go and get ready for your big night!”

“I just have to—”

“Get!” she says, pushing my purse into my hands and turning me toward the door. “I was prepared and brought my clothes here to change into, I’ll finish up.”

I chuckle. “Alright, thanks, Mom.”

She waves a hand in the air like she’s swatting a fly and I close the door behind me, walking out to my car and getting in. I drive back to Mom’s with the radio on, feeling good about tonight for the first time today.

I dress in a colorful poodle skirt and a crisp white shirt, tying my hair up into a high ponytail and putting on a coating of mascara, some lip balm and blush. I stare at myself in the mirror and for the first time in weeks, I like what I see. I smile wide and walk out of the bathroom with excitement for tonight.

The drive back to my studio goes by in a flash and I open the doors and walk into my office, placing my purse on my desk and hanging up my thin, red cardigan.

“Thought I heard someone come in,” Mom says, startling me.

I spin around, hand over my chest. “Gosh, you scared me!”

“Who else would it be?”

I shoo her out of my office so I can lock it up for the night. “Don’t sneak up on me, my nerves are already shot.” I walk into the back room and stop in my tracks. “Wow! It looks great in here,” I exclaim, admiring the colorful setup.

“You think? I added a few finishing touches after you left.”

I beam at her. “I can’t believe we’ve been open for six weeks.”

She smiles in response. “Me neither, it seems like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

“Well, I did have practice,” I reply, chuckling and turning in time to see the first arrivals of the evening. I point toward them and she grabs my hand, giving it a light, supportive squeeze before we both walk forward.

“Daaaaaddy!”

I jump out of my chair at the sound of Izzie shouting, my gaze flitting all around the room as my brain tries to catch up to my body. My elbow smacks off the door frame as I rush out of my office and I curse under my breath, holding my arm as the cringing sensation shoots down my arm and through my hand.

Clay steps out of his room at the same time as I make it to Izzie’s door, pushing his glasses up his nose and squinting against the harsh sunlight that’s streaming through the hallway window.

“Izzie?” I gasp, pushing into her bedroom where she stands on her bed, hands on hips.

“We’re going to be late!”

“What?” I look down at the Rolex on my wrist. “Shit.” I must have lost track of the time while checking my emails.

Izzie gasps and Clay chuckles from behind me. “Daddy! You said a bad word!” she shouts.