Vance shakes his head in a dramatic fashion, hair flying around his face. “I just figured, to sculpt a work of art of this magnitude, you needed nourishment.”
I bark out a laugh and nearly spit coffee in his face. “I might not have enough clay to sculpt that big head of yours. Let’s go.”
“Cool,” Vance muses as we descend the stairs and the basement comes into view. “This is a great space. I could totally read or strum some tunes down here.”
“Thanks. I love it, too.” Energy buzzes beneath my skin as I look around. I’m not certain if the high is from the room or the person standing in the room. “It’s always been a bit of an escape for me.”
“What’s this?” He points to the small square package on the table. I completely forgot it was there. “It has my name on it.”
“That’s because it’s for you. Just something I thought you might like.” He puts his coffee down with the bag and picks up the present to inspect it. Meanwhile, I bite on my lower lip.
“Feels kind of… heavy.” He grins up at me, raising and lowering it with his palm. “The Mickey Mouse paper is a nice touch.”
“You can open it any day now,” I offer and he chuckles, continuing to take his time and prolonging my agony.
As he rips the paper, the smile I was hoping to see appears tenfold. “Holy shit. A hardcover version of The Sun Also Rises.” His gaze lifts to mine. “My paperback was falling apart.”
“I know.” I watch the moment his confusion turns to recollection and my lips burst at the corners.
“The trespassing incident.” His fingers scroll over the title before he looks up at me. “Thank you. It’s great, Mickey. Really.”
“Sure.” I keep my response casual, trying not to make it as big of a deal on the outside as it feels on the inside.
Vance roams about, book in hand, stopping at various pictures along the wall. “There’s a lot of happiness here.” Something in his somber tone of voice makes me cross the room to be closer to him. He leans in to examine a photo of Zack and me goofing off in the backyard. I think I was maybe fourteen at the time. “Your brother… that face.” He looks back and forth between me and the picture. “It’s you.”
“I know.” I stare at the photo, remembering that day. It was a good one. “Zack used to say that all I had to do was cut my hair short, and I could be him.”
Vance smothers my body with his gaze and I suck down coffee to distract from the heat. “Nah. I don’t think so.”
I swallow hard and way too loud. “Shall we get started?” His chuckle follows me as I make a beeline for the sculpting table. Placing my coffee cup on the metal surface, I busy myself with the task of removing a hunk of clay from the cabinet.
“Where do you want me?” Vance asks, and I have too many answers to that question and no outlet for them, other than trying to hide the blush that refuses to disappear. I point to a nearby stool. “Right there is good.”
He places the book on the table then hops up on the stool, stretching his neck from left to right. “Ready when you are.”
“I can see that.” I smirk, my hands already folding themselves into the clay as if they are one. “I want to ask you a question.”
His chin lifts in a subtle tease. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Have you ever gotten along with your father?”
At first, he seems taken aback by my question, but then his cheeks soften and a hint of a smile crosses his lips.
“There was a time when I thought he was my hero. He was… well, he was the dad who used to take me to karate tournaments and cheer for me instead of yelling whenever I missed a key move. When I was frustrated with math because I sucked at it, he sat with me patiently to help when all I wanted to do was beat my fucking head against the wall.” He laughs, the warm sound filling me up. “My dad used to take me to the library even when he had other things to do. He’d bring his newspaper and stay with me for hours on end because he knew how much I loved being around all those books. I wanted to live there.”
I pause with my fingers immersed in the clay. “So what happened?”
“I don’t know.” He stares past me and I know I’m losing him. “Life I guess.” His lips flatten into a line, a hardness forming around his eyes where there was none. “He’s not the same person anymore.”
Though I know this might upset him, I’m unable to hold back. “Don’t you think your mom becoming ill had an effect on him? It has to be really difficult.”
“Yes,” Vance agrees, his eyes returning to mine. “You’d think it would be, right? But as far as I can see, he’s gone on with his life. It’s business as usual, while my mother is wasting away in there.” He looks away then back to me. “Mind if we change the subject? It’s not my favorite one.”
“Sure.”