2. Tallie
2
TALLIE
I ’d finally done it.
After years of blood, sweat, and tears—lots and lots of tears, I’d finally opened my very own art studio. It wasn’t much, just a nine-hundred-square-foot room with exposed brick and charm for days. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, and a heavy scent of paint and clay was lingering in the air.
Sunlight poured through the large front window and highlighted the various shelves. I smiled, knowing that this was where my vases and bowls would soon sit. I couldn’t wait. My shop was on the main strip in Hot Springs. It was a known hot spot for tourists, and I hoped the rustic ambiance of my quaint little shop would draw them in.
I just stood there, taking it all in. I was relishing in the feeling of pride and excitement when Ford, my seven-year-old son, came storming in from the back room. He was sporting his infamous pout, and his dark curls bounced with every exaggerated stomp. He bounded over to me with his favorite stuffed dinosaur clutched to his chest and whined, “I wanna go home.”
“Oh, come on, Ford. We just got here.”
“Uh-uh.” His brows furrowed. “We’ve been here forever, and there’s nothing to do.”
“What about your iPad or those coloring books I bought?”
“Those are for babies, Mom.” I laughed softly, glancing at the array of clay creations that lined the shelves. “Okay, how about this? You can help me make something. I’ll show you how to use the wheel, and we can make a bowl together. It’ll be our special project.”
"Can I make it really big?” A hopeful smile spread across his face as he asked, “Like, big enough for a bear?"
"How about big enough for a really hungry cat?"
“Does that mean we can get a cat?”
“Oh, we have a lot more unpacking to do before we can even think about getting a pet.”
“What about after we finish unpacking?”
“Maybe. But only if you promise to help me take care of it.”
“Promise!”
“Okay, deal," I said, holding out my pinky.
“Deal.”
He hooked his tiny finger around mine, sealing our pact.
I led him toward the pottery wheel, and I couldn’t help but smile as he sat down in front of it with excitement in his eyes. Art and pottery had always been a passion of mine, and now, they were quickly becoming his.
I slipped on his apron and placed some clay on the wheel, letting him play while I went to grab my box of supplies. By the time I returned, he was giggling and covered in clay. He was intent on creating something, even if it resembled more of a lumpy blob than a bowl.
I smiled as I adjusted his apron.
“Okay, bud, let’s make a masterpiece,” I teased, placing my hands over his to guide the clay. The room was warm with the smell of earthy clay and the soft hum of the wheel. It was one of those rare, perfect moments I wanted to remember forever. Ford was just starting to get the hang of it when my phone buzzed on the counter.
I glanced at it out of instinct and shook my head, nudging it aside.
But then it buzzed again.
Something about the persistence made me pause.
My chest tightened when I finally looked.
Dad.
Seeing his name flash across the screen made my stomach twist into a mess of knots. It happened every time he called, and it was even worse when I had to see him in person.
It hadn’t always been this way.
There was a time when I thought he hung the moon.
But that all changed when he sent me away.
I fell for Holt, my brother’s best friend, when I was in high school. He was always hanging out at the house with Rooks. He was four years older than me, so I usually kept my distance and left them to do their own thing. Then, one night, we connected over a late-night bowl of cereal, and one thing led to another, and we started dating.
It wasn’t really dating at first. I was just a freshman at the time, so we hung out at the house and went to school functions together. But by the end of my senior year, we were making plans for the future. I was going to art school, and he was going to continue to work his way up in the military.
We weren’t na?ve.
We knew it wouldn’t be easy.
Holt and I were from two different worlds, but we loved each other and were willing to do whatever it took to make it work.
But we never got the chance.