Retro Road Trip by Caroline Kendall

Author:Caroline Kendall [Kendall, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Sky Publishers
Published: 2019-12-12T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The next morning I opened my eyes and stretched. That bed was so comfortable. The room was kind of empty, but it had a pretty decent painting of some flowers on the wall. It was like heaven to not have to be up early. I actually liked this house. It was better than staying in a hotel, even though here's no candy machine or pool here.

My door was open a few inches. The cat Paloma walked in and jumped up on the bed. I was still under the covers, and she came and sat by my shoulder, looking at me. I scratched her under the ears and she started purring, running her little motor. She leaned forward and turned her head so I could reach her other ear better.

I heard a door slam and the cat jumped off the bed and ran out to the landing. I heard her tags jingling down the stairs. It sounded like my mom and Rosemary were back from looking at Rosemary’s friend’s antiques. I figured it was probably time to get up. I heard the stairs creaking. My mom came into the room.

"Hey, honey, Rosemary's making us a nice breakfast. It will be ready in about a half hour."

I yawned and nodded. "Okay, I'll be down. I guess I'll take a shower first."

When we were eating breakfast, Rosemary and my mom started talking about which colleges are nearby. I hoped she wouldn't want to drag me to another campus tour while we're here.

After breakfast I got my sketchbook and pencils and went outside. I stood on the porch and looked around to find a good spot to sit and draw. There was a little iron bench on the other side of the driveway. I walked down the front porch steps and headed to the bench. It was the kind with lots of curlicues. It was painted white but the paint was peeling, and some rust was showing underneath. Craquelure.

The bench was already hot from the sun. I'd probably have the imprint of the curly leaf patterns embossed on my legs when I got up. I looked back at the house. An old bike leaned against the porch with some flowers growing through the spokes of the wheel, as if someone just left it there years ago and never came back for it. A lamppost had some purple irises growing at the base.

Maybe there was something up in the attic that I could draw. I'm always looking for the perfect thing to draw but I never seem to find it. Or I start a drawing but never finish it.

When I was in fifth grade, I started to do a painting of Grandy’s next-door neighbor Norma’s purple irises that bloomed in her garden. I didn’t finish it, and the next time I went there, I found out she had died. Now whenever I see irises blooming, I think about how I failed. I could have made her happy but I just blew it off. I still have the half-finished picture.

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