Licia was crazy with that bullshit about success. Hell, if the publisher just accepted the book, that would be enough. It didn't have to be a best seller That only happened one time in a million, and she knew it wasn't for her. She could feel it. This was her life.
Chapter 7
Going to teach today, Mom? Kate nodded and handed Tygue another piece of toast. I thought so. I can always tell. He looked pleased with himself, and Kate watched her son with a warm glow. Graceful and sturdy and thoughtful and bright, and so pretty, but in an appropriately boyish way. He looked a little less like Tom now. And he was nearly six.
How can you always tell when I'm going to teach? They had long since established a chatty rapport over breakfast, and on this beautiful spring day she was feeling playful. Tygue was the person she spoke to most. Now and then it made her respond to him on his own childlike level, but most of the time they found a mutually acceptable middle ground.
I can tell cause you wear gooder clothes.
I do, huh? She was grinning at him, and there was a fierce sparkle of mischief in his eyes, not so very different from her own. And the word is better,' by the way.
Yeah. And you wear that goopy stuff on your face.
What goopy stuff? She was laughing with a mouthful of toast.
You know the green stuff.
It's not green, it's blue. And it's called eye makeup.
Aunt Licia wears it too. As though that would make it okay.
Yeah, but she wears it all the time, and hers is brown. He grinned broadly at her. And you only wear yours to teach. How come you only wear it then?
Because you're not old enough to appreciate it hot stuff. But neither was Tom. Anymore. She just wore the eye makeup and the gooder clothes, as Tygue called them, because she felt she ought to, for visiting Tom at Mead. It seemed suitable. There she was Mrs. Harper. Here she was only Mom. And occasionally ma'am at the supermarket
She had long ago explained to Tygue that she taught writing at a school in Carmel for disturbed children. It allowed her to talk about Tom sometimes, or some of the others she saw. She had often told him stories of Tom, of his drawings, of Mr. Erhard the stories were dusted off just enough so that she could tell Tygue and feel some relief. Or sometimes when Tom had had a moment of great victory, done a wonderful drawing, learned a game, or completed a puzzle that had seemed so much beyond him sometimes then, she could share the triumphant feeling with Tygue, even if she shouldn't have. And by telling him that she taught at a school for disturbed children, she could also provide an excuse for going to her room and closing the door after a rough day. Tygue understood that. He felt sorry for the children she told him about And he thought she was a good person for going there. Sometimes she wondered if that was why she had told him that story' poor Mommy' good Mommy ' she drives all that way to work with retarded children. She shrugged off such thoughts. It was crazy to need strokes from a six-year-old child.
How come they don't ever get vacation? He was slurping through his cereal now, and Kate's thoughts had already drifted ahead to Tom.
Hm?
How come they don't get vacation?
They just don't. Want to bring Joey home from school today? Tillie will be here when you get back. But she didn't need to tell him. He knew that. She could drive you guys over to see the new horses down at the Adams ranch, if you want.
Nah.
No? Kate looked at him with astonishment, as he plowed on through the cereal with a blas+! look on his face, but that same bright little flame in his eyes. He was up to something. What's with you? Other plans?
He looked up with a quick smile and a faint blush, but a vehement shake of his head. No.
Listen, you, be a good boy for Tillie today. Promise? Tillie had the phone number at Mead, but Kate was on the road so much of the time that she still worried a little, even after all these years. Don't do anything wild or crazy
Chapter 7
Going to teach today, Mom? Kate nodded and handed Tygue another piece of toast. I thought so. I can always tell. He looked pleased with himself, and Kate watched her son with a warm glow. Graceful and sturdy and thoughtful and bright, and so pretty, but in an appropriately boyish way. He looked a little less like Tom now. And he was nearly six.
How can you always tell when I'm going to teach? They had long since established a chatty rapport over breakfast, and on this beautiful spring day she was feeling playful. Tygue was the person she spoke to most. Now and then it made her respond to him on his own childlike level, but most of the time they found a mutually acceptable middle ground.
I can tell cause you wear gooder clothes.
I do, huh? She was grinning at him, and there was a fierce sparkle of mischief in his eyes, not so very different from her own. And the word is better,' by the way.
Yeah. And you wear that goopy stuff on your face.
What goopy stuff? She was laughing with a mouthful of toast.
You know the green stuff.
It's not green, it's blue. And it's called eye makeup.
Aunt Licia wears it too. As though that would make it okay.
Yeah, but she wears it all the time, and hers is brown. He grinned broadly at her. And you only wear yours to teach. How come you only wear it then?
Because you're not old enough to appreciate it hot stuff. But neither was Tom. Anymore. She just wore the eye makeup and the gooder clothes, as Tygue called them, because she felt she ought to, for visiting Tom at Mead. It seemed suitable. There she was Mrs. Harper. Here she was only Mom. And occasionally ma'am at the supermarket
She had long ago explained to Tygue that she taught writing at a school in Carmel for disturbed children. It allowed her to talk about Tom sometimes, or some of the others she saw. She had often told him stories of Tom, of his drawings, of Mr. Erhard the stories were dusted off just enough so that she could tell Tygue and feel some relief. Or sometimes when Tom had had a moment of great victory, done a wonderful drawing, learned a game, or completed a puzzle that had seemed so much beyond him sometimes then, she could share the triumphant feeling with Tygue, even if she shouldn't have. And by telling him that she taught at a school for disturbed children, she could also provide an excuse for going to her room and closing the door after a rough day. Tygue understood that. He felt sorry for the children she told him about And he thought she was a good person for going there. Sometimes she wondered if that was why she had told him that story' poor Mommy' good Mommy ' she drives all that way to work with retarded children. She shrugged off such thoughts. It was crazy to need strokes from a six-year-old child.
How come they don't ever get vacation? He was slurping through his cereal now, and Kate's thoughts had already drifted ahead to Tom.
Hm?
How come they don't get vacation?
They just don't. Want to bring Joey home from school today? Tillie will be here when you get back. But she didn't need to tell him. He knew that. She could drive you guys over to see the new horses down at the Adams ranch, if you want.
Nah.
No? Kate looked at him with astonishment, as he plowed on through the cereal with a blas+! look on his face, but that same bright little flame in his eyes. He was up to something. What's with you? Other plans?
He looked up with a quick smile and a faint blush, but a vehement shake of his head. No.
Listen, you, be a good boy for Tillie today. Promise? Tillie had the phone number at Mead, but Kate was on the road so much of the time that she still worried a little, even after all these years. Don't do anything wild or crazy
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