The Chalk Artist by Allegra Goodman

Author:Allegra Goodman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2017-06-13T04:00:00+00:00

Just as Kerry despaired of Aidan and his future, he grew quiet, almost docile. He accepted the loss of his computer, along with being grounded every afternoon and weekend. He accepted that he had failed English and would repeat the class next year. He accepted that he had failed biology as well. After the term ended he would return for summer school. When Kerry asked him to wash dishes or take out garbage or bring up the laundry, he did it instantly.

At first, his compliance made her nervous. She had prayed, but this was more than she had hoped. Aidan returned from school to do his homework. He ate dinner. He even slept at night—he really slept. When Kerry returned from her night shift, she didn’t hear a sound. Aidan’s behavior seemed to her too good too fast, and yet she wanted to believe in him. Maybe it was true, as she had read, that deep down teens craved structure and authority. Confiscating Aidan’s electronics may have been his secret wish!

Aidan never asked for his computer and his games. Nor did he run away to play with friends. Day by day, he worked to earn his mother’s trust. He held out his open palm for Kerry, and, like a hungry woodland creature, she watched him from a distance. Steadily he made his offering. No sudden movements, no threatening gestures, as Kerry crept closer. Trembling, she circled hungrily. She knew better. Experience told her otherwise, but need trumped fear as she began grazing from his hand.

Kerry re-established Sunday breakfast, which she prepared after her Saturday-night shift. She made the children French toast as soon as she came home, and they ate together at the kitchen table, their plates drenched with syrup, their glasses filled with fresh-squeezed orange juice. Aidan was quiet, but his mother didn’t mind. Just two weeks after she had confiscated his computer, she saw a calmer manner, a steadier gaze. No longer did he fidget at the table and race away to play. To her mind, he’d hit rock bottom, and now he was rebuilding. She rejoiced, but tried to temper her excitement. On Friday morning, when he said he wasn’t feeling well, she took his temperature. Trust but verify. He had a fever of 101, and she allowed him to stay home from school.

“You rest,” she told him as she hunted for ibuprofen. “Take these, and I’ll check on you when I wake up.” Then gratefully, she lay down in her own bed.

Coming down with a cold that morning wasn’t planned. Aidan’s body ached, and his throat hurt when he swallowed, but he didn’t care. His heart pounded as he listened to Diana leave for school. Then, when she was gone and all was quiet, he slipped downstairs, supporting himself with his arms on wall and banister, so that his feet scarcely touched the creaky treads. Softly he escaped through the kitchen. Gently, he shut the back door.

Great trees canopied his street and Maia’s roses were all blooming luscious red, but Aidan didn’t stop to look.

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