Page 6 of Friction

“I’m not going back to school, Mom.”

“What?”

“I called to tell you about this really awesome opportunity I have going on tonight.”

“I don’t understand. What are you calling about if it’s not school? You know your grandfather is devastated,” Mom said.

Dad added, “He’s beyond pissed. He’s about ready to remove the fifth from his goddamn will.”

“Cash, what’s going on?” Mom asked.

“If you would listen for a damn minute, I can tell you.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

What a fucking mistake I made by calling home.

“Sorry! I just wanted to tell you I have a booth at an art fair where my sketches are framed and for sale. I’m offering appointments for commissions too. It’s a great opportunity.” I looked outside through the sliding glass doors that led to my private balcony. While I waited for some reaction from my mom, I stared mindlessly at the brightly lit pools and spas.

“Oh,” she said flatly. That was it. One word. She was void of any pride or excitement for what I’d done. In a hushed tone she said to Dad, “He’s selling some of his pictures this weekend.”

“Jesus. Hang up the damn phone.”

The words that came from my dad felt like a punch in the stomach.

“Mom?”

“It’s getting late, Cash. Remember it’s three hours later here.”

“I’m aware.”

“Good luck at your art fair,” she said in a pacifying tone just before she hung up. My mom fucking hung up on me.

With my phone in my hand, I sat on the couch. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I thought maybe she’d be happy for me or would like to know I was doing okay. But that wasn’t how things went. How had things gone so wrong with my family? I looked upward and quickly blinked so the sudden stupid tears that filled my eyes didn’t fall. I took a few deep breaths and went to the mirror for one final check before heading to the lobby. I forced a smile on my face as I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked okay. I grabbed the room key and headed to the lobby.

I was somewhat surprised to find the lobby was buzzing with energy. There were a lot of people talking in small groups, and waiters were carrying trays with drink orders. As I looked around, I felt out of place.

Really out of place.

I took a slow deep breath and decided to wander back by my booth. Joel’s question during the interview from almost a month ago began to ring out in my head; who is Cash Jameson? I still had no clue. At least, nothing in a positive nature. My dad’s voice filled my head tonight. Hearing the disgust in his voice when Mom was talking to him made me feel like shit. Especially the part about how my grandpa was thinking about removing me from the will. Only Dad didn’t refer to me by name; he just called me “the fifth.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed past the lump in my throat. Desperate for some positive interaction, I pulled my phone out, took a picture of my booth, and sent it to Braxton.

Cash: Check out my booth!

I stared at my phone for a few minutes, hoping Braxton would reply. Movement to my left caused me to focus and pull myself together. I took another slow deep breath and when I turned to head back to the busy lobby, I stopped in my tracks when I saw Joel standing nearby. He was alone and watching me. We stared at one another for a few moments that seemed to drag on forever until he made the first move and walked toward me.

“Nervous?” he casually asked.

“Nah. I was just texting Braxton to tell him about my booth.” I turned my phone around and showed him the picture I took. Self-doubt kept creeping in by the minute.

“Very nice. Would you like me to take a picture of you standing by your booth and artwork?”

“Um…” I turned to look at the framed sketches. Fuck my family. I was proud of this. “Yes, I’d like to have a picture please to remember my sketch booth.” Even I could detect a little bit of a sour mood in the sound of my voice, so I was sure Joel did too.

“First of many,” Joel said.

First of many. As much as I liked the way that sounded, I could only pray for that to be true. I stood behind the table and smiled for Joel while he took the picture. He showed it to me as I came around from the table. I looked pathetic, which pissed me off because really, I loved making sketches. I just looked kind of pathetic in my interview clothes.