The French Impressionist

Anyway, like Ansel says, I can find different ways of saying what I want to say.

I turn to go inside, ready to face whatever is waiting for me.





Twenty-Eight


The waiting area in the airport smells like expensive perfume. We’re right outside a gift shop. From somewhere inside it, I’d swear I heard the sound of breaking glass. It makes me smile.

Mom and I don’t talk much while we wait. I check out my new phone, and my smile fades.

I have six numbers in my contacts list, now. Gavin. Mom and Zander. Sylvie. Nicole (who finally remembered who I was yesterday). Jada.

I’ve heard nothing from her since I said those horrible words. I’ve called, emailed, texted, tried Twitter. Jada’s silence sticks in my gut and twists itself when I lay awake at night, thinking about it. I know some things aren’t easy to fix. And I’m so afraid this never will be.

Mom has the small painting I made for Jada inside her carry-on bag. I didn’t really do it all myself. Ansel coached me a lot. I have no idea what Jada might think of it. If, that is, she chooses to accept it. It shows Jada and Mitch, together holding hands. They face one another as they get married. Mom hates it. I guess the part she doesn’t like is that Jada and Mitch are both standing up. No wheelchairs in sight. I think Jada will totally be into it, though, if . . .

If she ever sees it.

I have to try one more time. I take out the painting, prop it up against my chair and take a photo of it. I email it to Jada while Mom carefully re-wraps the small canvas and puts it back in her bag.

“Are you sure about this?” Mom asks in a tiny voice. It’s the same thing she’s asked for the past three weeks.

“Yes,” I answer. I’m scared. But I’m sure.

Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s only until Christmas,” she reminds me.

“I know,” I say.

I’m doing a semester abroad. Some classes at my new school in Nice will be in English. Some will be in French. Crazy? Probably. Anyway, I’ll be with other American students studying French. We’ll all slaughter the language together. And in December, I’ll go back to Twin Falls for the rest of the school year. It will be different. Mom quit her job at my school. I’ll be there solo for the first time in my life.

And she promised to remove the lock from the outside of my bedroom door. No more schedule. No Matching Shirt Mondays. I choose my clothes. And my friends. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even start dating. Eventually.

Whenever I think about my plan, I cringe a little on the inside. I was so desperate to escape that I didn’t get how insane it really was.

I’m invited to return to France next summer. Every summer after that, if I want. After all, I’m an artist. At least, I think I am. The lie is becoming something less than a lie, although not yet quite true. Maybe it’s a half-lie? Ansel keeps saying that I was telling the truth because I have an artist’s eyes. Whatever that means.

Mom looks down at her new diamond ring and her eyes fill with even more tears. Zander hands Mom a tissue.

“Change is good,” he says with a smile. I can’t believe what happened. He still wants to marry Mom after everything. After the crazy stuff he found out about my mother, like her total over-protective insanity. After what I almost did to him. He believes in Mom, and he forgave me. Anyway, his eyebrow ring isn’t that bad. I’ll have to get used to it at any rate.

My phone beeps and my heart stops.





Girlfriend. You there?


My fingers barely work. I text as fast as I can.





J! I’m soooo, so sorry! I didn’t mean it! I love you. Please forgive me. Please!!!!!


I type so fast I spell everything wrong. But Jada always understands me.

I don’t breathe while I wait. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty-two.





I like the picture. Beautiful. We’ll talk later. Miss you.


My eyes fill with tears. You can’t ever take back the horrible things you say. They’re always there, hanging in the air between you and the one who was hurt by them. All you can do is hope you will be forgiven. After so many weeks of Jada’s silence, I’d almost stopped hoping.

Sylvie and émile arrive right as Mom and Zander’s plane is announced. Mom clings to me and I feel her heart pounding. But Zander gently peels her off and I tell her that I love her. That I promise I’ll text and email. Every day. That I’ll stay out of trouble. This time.

And she lets me go.

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