“I like her, Mrs. Watson. A lot.”
“She likes you too, honey, and I think that’s the problem. She’s going through so much. Aria keeps a lot to herself. There’s so much she doesn’t say. The worst feeling in the world for a parent is knowing that your child is hurting and being unable to help them. I just worry that her being so close to you could be some kind of way for her to avoid dealing with her deeper issues.”
“You want me to stop seeing her?” I asked, hoping the answer was no.
Mrs. Watson grimaced. “I don’t know, because last night when you showed up for the dance was the first time she actually looked…happy. Like her old self. I just—can you take it slow with her? Just friends?”
“Of course.”
“Which means no late night sleepovers.”
“I’m sorry about that. It was a really crappy night, and I had no one else to talk to. I didn’t mean to fall asleep over here, I swear. I’m sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes with a smirk. “You look so much like your father it’s scary.”
“Was he always like this?” I asked referring to Dad’s coldness and harsh personality. “I remember him being different, but I don’t know if I’m just making up those memories or something.”
She shook her head, going into the refrigerator and pulling out eggs and bacon. “Kent’s always been a little rough around the edges, but at the end of the day, every choice he ever made was made to look out for others. His tactics weren’t always the best, but the motives behind his actions were always from his heart. He doesn’t mean to be harsh.”
“When I used to visit him, he was happy to have me.”
“He’s happy you’re here, trust me. Your father doesn’t talk about things. He never really has. He keeps his feelings to himself. After you stopped visiting, I think he just got lonely, and instead of doing something about his loneliness, he held it inside and kept his feelings buried.”
“Were you and him in love?”
She shook her head. “Maybe puppy love, but he really loved your mom, he just made a few mistakes along the way. And I’ve truly only loved one man.” Tears fell from her eyes, and she laughed as she wiped them away, seeming somewhat embarrassed. “This is what happens when you work too many nightshifts in a hospital.”
“I really hope things work out with you and Mr. Watson.”
With a tight smile, she nodded. “Thank you, Levi. Now, on to the important things. Are you hungry?”
She proceeded to cook me breakfast, and I couldn’t help but think about how I missed my own mom. When she wasn’t too far gone into her mind, she would make me breakfast and we would have conversations in the mornings. I missed that.
After we ate breakfast, I thanked Mrs. Watson and walked out of the front of the house to head home.
“He loves you, Levi. You know that, right?” Mrs. Watson said, standing in her doorway. I shrugged, making her frown. “The day he found out about the cancer, he came to me. The same way you did. I sat with him and asked him if he had the chance to fix one thing in his life, what would it be.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He said nothing. But a few weeks later, you showed up, and I think that said more than any words could ever say.”
* * *
The next Saturday night was the night of our “Art & Soul” showcase for Mr. Harper and Ms. Jameson’s class. Lance and Daisy told me they would be there front row and center. Dad had a home nurse staying with us to help care for him, so he wouldn’t be able to make it. Not that he would’ve anyway.
Simon and Abigail showed up, too, lips locked through most of the night. God. Kissing that much had to be tiring.
The showcase was taking place in the auditorium, which held a lot more people than I’d thought it would. Aria and I sat in the wings of the stage, watching the people who performed before us. Everyone else already had their piece of art completed, so when they went out there, the artist discussed their techniques and then their partner played a musical number.
Aria’s breaths were picking up as she stared out at the stage. “This was a terrible idea,” she said, shaking her head back and forth. “We should’ve just did like everyone else and had the painting completed. What if I can’t do it? What if I freeze up and can’t paint in front of all of those people? What if—”
“Just look at me,” I offered. “Just look at me and breathe. You can do this, Art.”
She nodded once and glanced out at the audience. Her eyes widened. “He’s here.”
“Your dad?” I asked, knowing she’d been worried that he wouldn’t show.
“No. I mean, yeah, he’s here, but I wasn’t talking about him.”