Wood Worked

For the first time, he looked almost interested in what I was saying. “It would have to support your weight, though,” he muttered. “It would need to be anchored in an overhead beam, and I don’t think there is one in the right spot in the shower.”

Now he was talking my language. “But there could be two cross beams installed, and the weight could be distributed between them.” At the blank look in his eyes, my enthusiasm faded. “I wish I had my sketchbook. Then I could show you what I mean—not that I expect you to alter the bathroom further. It was just something I was thinking about. When I don’t know how to do something, I like trying to figure it out.”

“Me too,” he said under his breath, almost to himself. “You draw?”

“Sketch.”

“What's the difference?”

I shrugged. “Drawing is for capturing the essence of beautiful things. Sketching, for me, is about solidifying my thoughts. A way to share the ideas in my head with other people. Like blueprints or floor plans.”

He nodded but seemed lost in thought. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and walked out the room. But then, as he was passing through the doorway, he stopped yet again. “Do you need a glass of water or anything?”

“No, I’m good. But thanks.”

“You keep saying that,” he muttered cryptically, and then he left.

After all the starts and stops, I was unsure he was really going until I heard the door to the deck open and close again. Then I sank back into bed with a sigh.

That hadn’t gone well at all. I hadn’t convinced him to come to dinner. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him about spending more time over here. I’d only been able to mention the twins once, and they were my secret weapon to lure him back here.

Plus, I’d exhausted myself yet again. Frankly, I was getting pretty damn tired of being tired, but there was nothing I could do about it.

My mood was still sour after a nap, and it didn’t help when I looked at the empty spot at the end of the table at dinner. Reading to the kids at night was fun, but I was still disgruntled when I went to bed. I was also sick and tired of sleeping on my back with my bad leg raised. Just once, I would’ve loved to sleep on my side.

My bad mood had finally abated by the next morning, especially when I sat up and noticed something on top of the quilt on the other side of the bed. I wiped my eyes and then looked closer, wondering what it was.

I reached over and picked up a brand-new sketch pad. There was even a pack of charcoal pencils to go with it. A smile broke out on my face. I was pretty sure it was the biggest one I’d had all week.

13

Alyssa

Tuesday afternoon, Nana came over. She obviously had a key, because she knocked twice and then just came on in. I was at the kitchen table using my laptop, and Raphael was upstairs.

“Well look at you, out of bed!” she said as she made her way over. She had a big bag slung over one shoulder, and it slid down her arm and brushed against my back when she gave me a quick hug. I hugged her back, glad to see her. There was no doubt I was starting to go a little stir crazy, and I was happy for the company.

“I forget, dear, how do you take your tea?”

I told her, grateful that she’d thought to make some. Raphael had a deadline to meet for a paper he was writing for a client and had been upstairs for quite some time.

Nana kept up a steady stream of small talk while she prepared the tea, but when we both had beverages, she sat down next to me at the table. “Now tell me how you’re really doing.” She put her hand on mine and looked me in the eye.

“I’m fine.” The answer was so automatic that it was ingrained.

“You were hit by a car,” she said bluntly. “Now you’re living with strangers. Nice strangers, but still—tell me how it’s going.”

And so I did. How I was grateful to my new company for giving me this paid time off to recover, but how I was also bored to tears at times. “It’s just so quiet here when Spencer and the twins are at school and Raphael’s either writing or teaching a fitness class.” I sighed and tried not to sound whiny. “I know it sounds dumb to be bored when I have the entire internet at my disposal.”

“It’s not the same as human interaction. My granddaughter and I have a video call once a week, and it’s not the same.”

“No, it isn’t. But some parts of my day are nice. Like Raphael made lunch and we ate out on the deck and talked for nearly an hour afterwards, until he had to go work on his paper again.”