“What do you think?” Mia asked Brian.
“I think they are too fat.”
“How about colored pencils?” Grandma Z asked, handing him a pencil. “You have to sharpen the ends. But I show you what you can do.” She tapped on the wall.
Mia lifted Brian up so he could see the picture.
“My grandson made this when he was six.”
It was a drawing of a rabbit peeping out from behind an old boot.
“That’s nice,” Brian said.
Mia set him down.
“Tell you what, you go and sit over there at the art table and try out the pencil, and here is a Slick Stix,” Grandma Z said, sliding one out of a pack. “You try both out.”
“Is that Crazy Cooper down there?” Acalan called down from his studio.
Mia blushed. “I’m going by Manic Martin now,” she said.
“Come up here and sit for me. You owe me.”
“How do I owe you?’ Mia asked, climbing the steps to the studio.
“Who stopped the Howell twins from making you eat dirt?”
“Was that you?” Mia asked. “Sorry, so many people made me eat dirt, I’ve grown accustomed to the taste.”
Acalan patted the paint-spattered stool and said, “Sit.”
Mia looked back down into the store.
“Don’t worry, Grandma Z hasn’t lost a child yet.”
Mia sat down. “Nothing naughty,” she warned. “I’m a married lady.”
Acalan frowned. “I’m more into fruit these days, hence the invitation.”
Mia laughed.
Acalan worked quickly and got Mia’s outline before she moved. “Cooper, I’m going to make you sit in glue if you move again.”
“Sorry.”
“You haven’t changed too much since we were kids,” he said. “I used to draw pictures of your face.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re so ugly,” Acalan said. He worked for a few minutes and then popped up. “Done. Get off my stool.”
Mia got up and walked over. “Can I see it?”
“Sure,” Acalan said, proud of himself.
Mia’s eyes opened wide. There was a sketch of her sitting with her knees up and staring straight ahead, and behind her were wings. “How?” she asked.
“They just came to me,” Acalan said. “Not that you’re very angelic, it’s those big eyes of yours that gave me the idea. Grandma Z likes angels.”
“How much for the drawing?” Mia asked.
“I didn’t draw this to take your money, Cooper.”
“I was thinking of giving it to my husband. I really like it.”
“Tell you what, you can have it for free after I use it for a painting,” Acalan told her.
“Painting?” she squeaked. Images of her with wings on display for all to see flooded her head.
“Painting, and no you can’t buy that either.”
Mia started down the steps, stopped, turned, and warned, “Nothing naughty.”
He laughed. “Get out of my store, and take my competition with you.”
Mia found Brian waiting for her at the counter. He had both the pencils and the Slick Stix.
“Better add some paper to that. Daddy doesn’t like it when you take the printer paper from his office.”
“Yes, Mom,” Brian said and ran back.
Zarita looked at Mia. “You good?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
“Acalan wasn’t good for a while. His husband died.”
“I didn’t know,” Mia said. “I’m sorry.”
“He tells no one. He was touring with his art. Daniel got into a fight with someone intolerant and Daniel lost. Acalan stopped painting. Don’t worry, he probably won’t paint the picture.”
Brian came back with packs of paper and a sketchbook.
Grandma Z punched the purchases in the cash register and called, “Acalan, make this devil open the drawer!”
Acalan saw the Martins to the door before he headed back to his studio. He stopped and looked at the art table. Brian had left his experimental drawing there. The thin lines of the colored pencil held the oil pastel from popping off the page. “Grandma, how old is Crazy Cooper’s kid?” he called.
“He’s says he’s going to be four,” she answered. “Why?”
“He colors like a kid, but his composition is very interesting. Come look.”
Zarita shuffled over. Acalan held up the picture.
“It’s me!” she said, amazed to see the giant cross in the foreground and a tiny dancing lady attached to it. “Acalan, it’s a challenge. The little boy left it because he is challenging you to do better.”
Acalan picked it up and walked up the stairs. He pinned up Brian’s work next to the sketch of Mia and started opening his tubes.
Zarita held her breath until she heard the sound of a brush on the canvas. “It’s a miracle.”
“Mom, you turned the wrong way,” Brian noticed as Mia pulled out of her parking spot.
“We’re going to make a stop. I want to get something out of the top of the garage at the peninsula home.”
“Uncle Burt’s house?”
“It’s my house until he buys it from me.”
“How come you still have stuff there?” Brian asked.
“I don’t know. I think, until I was in the art store, I had forgotten all about it.”
Mia pulled up to the gate and buzzed in.
“Hello?”
“Burt, I’m sorry to bother you, but could I get something from the garage?” Mia asked.
Mia heard the buzzer and took that as a yes. She walked back to the truck, drove in the drive, and parked behind Burt’s car. Brian was out of his car seat before Mia turned off the truck.
“Pretend you don’t know how to get out of that thing so I can feel like a good parent.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Mia opened the door and helped Brian down. She took a moment to watch as the gate closed behind her. The overlapping past images of her circling the truck with salt, after her solo trips out, was before her. She used
