understand.”
“On account of you knowing an amazing local artist willing to mentor you. One of the best in the city if you ask me.” His lips tightened into a wiry smile, waiting for a reaction. I tried my best to remain poised, but my words became short as I struggled to run, breathe, and speak at the time.
“Let me get this straight… You want me to go to the Academy of the Sacred Heart, and then spend every afternoon apprenticing with you in the metal shop?”
“Jeez, do you have to put me in the same category with your disdain for Sacred Heart?”
“That’s not what I meant, Dad, I’m just trying to process all of this. It’s making my brain hurt.”
“Well, I’m sorry that the idea of working with me makes your brain hurt.”
“Ugh, Dad, stop. That’s not what I meant. I just…” A seagull squawked as it dipped low to investigate a pile of floating wreckage. “I mean, I’m supposed to be apprenticing in fashion. What would we work on together?” I tried my best not to sound as though there was nothing he could teach me.
“What do you mean? There’s tons of cool stuff we could do. You could create a jewelry line. We could focus on your fashion illustrations, which you and I both know need serious work if you are ever going to put together a decent portfolio.”
That stung a little, but he was right.
“You’ve been talking for ages about wanting to learn how to make your own hardware for your pieces.”
He ’d obviously been thinking about this a lot. His pitch was starting to sound pretty convincing.
“We could do chainmaille, or something really avant-garde or conceptual.”
My mind raced with possibilities as he rattled off more and more ideas.
“Dad, stop!” I couldn’t keep the giant grin from spreading across my face. “You had me at chainmaille.”
His shoulders relaxed, and I saw a little excitement in his eyes. “Really? You’d choose Sacred Heart and me over Brooke and a real atelier ? I never thought I’d see this day.”
I really, really wanted to be with my best friend, but how could I leave this plac e ? There was so much to do, to rebuild. It was utterly overwhelming. My father put his arm around me and pulled me close. I concentrated on my feet so I didn’t stumble in the awkward runner’s embrace.
“Gross, you’re sweaty, Dad.”
“So are you!” He squirted water in my face. Sometimes he really was a child.
“All right, let’s go home,” I said, letting the water run down my neck. It actually felt pretty good; the noon sun was in full blaze.
“Home? We are just getting warmed up.”
“Warmed up! Maybe you are, but not all of us vacationed in Miami for the last two months,” I teased. “My legs are like jelly. I am going home.” I veered onto Esplanade Avenue as he continued down the river.
“Going to let your old man show you up?” he yelled over his shoulder.
“ Oui ! ”
“And don’t think I forgot about you lying to my face yesterday.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah….” There was now too much distance between us to yell back and forth. What was he going to do, ground m e ? The whole city was already on lock-down. None of my friends were back. There was no Internet and barely any cellphone reception.
I slowed down to pace myself for the remaining ten blocks home . Had I really just agreed to go to the Academy of the Sacred Heart? “The Academy,” as they called i t . Images of Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, sweet sixteens and hundreds of cookie-cutter copies of Désirée Borges popped in my head. I cut across the neutral ground onto Chartres Street and began to count down the blocks when an unfamiliar sight caught my attention.
People.
Three of them standing in the middle of the road on the next block. A little old lady leaning on a cane was looking up with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Behind her were two goth guys, who appeared to be either elated or scowling; between the makeup and facial piercings it was hard to
“On account of you knowing an amazing local artist willing to mentor you. One of the best in the city if you ask me.” His lips tightened into a wiry smile, waiting for a reaction. I tried my best to remain poised, but my words became short as I struggled to run, breathe, and speak at the time.
“Let me get this straight… You want me to go to the Academy of the Sacred Heart, and then spend every afternoon apprenticing with you in the metal shop?”
“Jeez, do you have to put me in the same category with your disdain for Sacred Heart?”
“That’s not what I meant, Dad, I’m just trying to process all of this. It’s making my brain hurt.”
“Well, I’m sorry that the idea of working with me makes your brain hurt.”
“Ugh, Dad, stop. That’s not what I meant. I just…” A seagull squawked as it dipped low to investigate a pile of floating wreckage. “I mean, I’m supposed to be apprenticing in fashion. What would we work on together?” I tried my best not to sound as though there was nothing he could teach me.
“What do you mean? There’s tons of cool stuff we could do. You could create a jewelry line. We could focus on your fashion illustrations, which you and I both know need serious work if you are ever going to put together a decent portfolio.”
That stung a little, but he was right.
“You’ve been talking for ages about wanting to learn how to make your own hardware for your pieces.”
He ’d obviously been thinking about this a lot. His pitch was starting to sound pretty convincing.
“We could do chainmaille, or something really avant-garde or conceptual.”
My mind raced with possibilities as he rattled off more and more ideas.
“Dad, stop!” I couldn’t keep the giant grin from spreading across my face. “You had me at chainmaille.”
His shoulders relaxed, and I saw a little excitement in his eyes. “Really? You’d choose Sacred Heart and me over Brooke and a real atelier ? I never thought I’d see this day.”
I really, really wanted to be with my best friend, but how could I leave this plac e ? There was so much to do, to rebuild. It was utterly overwhelming. My father put his arm around me and pulled me close. I concentrated on my feet so I didn’t stumble in the awkward runner’s embrace.
“Gross, you’re sweaty, Dad.”
“So are you!” He squirted water in my face. Sometimes he really was a child.
“All right, let’s go home,” I said, letting the water run down my neck. It actually felt pretty good; the noon sun was in full blaze.
“Home? We are just getting warmed up.”
“Warmed up! Maybe you are, but not all of us vacationed in Miami for the last two months,” I teased. “My legs are like jelly. I am going home.” I veered onto Esplanade Avenue as he continued down the river.
“Going to let your old man show you up?” he yelled over his shoulder.
“ Oui ! ”
“And don’t think I forgot about you lying to my face yesterday.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah….” There was now too much distance between us to yell back and forth. What was he going to do, ground m e ? The whole city was already on lock-down. None of my friends were back. There was no Internet and barely any cellphone reception.
I slowed down to pace myself for the remaining ten blocks home . Had I really just agreed to go to the Academy of the Sacred Heart? “The Academy,” as they called i t . Images of Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, sweet sixteens and hundreds of cookie-cutter copies of Désirée Borges popped in my head. I cut across the neutral ground onto Chartres Street and began to count down the blocks when an unfamiliar sight caught my attention.
People.
Three of them standing in the middle of the road on the next block. A little old lady leaning on a cane was looking up with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Behind her were two goth guys, who appeared to be either elated or scowling; between the makeup and facial piercings it was hard to
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