“It was so odd,” my mom pauses her game of FreeCell on her iPad.
“Mmmm,” Dad mumbles from the couch, non committal to contributing the conversation.
“In the locker room, after swimming, Evie was talking about the party again and all the art…”
“She was super fun,” I interrupt.
“She is. I like her a lot. But it was so strange…she was under the impression that the nude in the hallway?”
“Mmmm?” This time in question form. It appears Dad IS contributing to the conversation.
“The charcoal Thom did, right?” I ask.
“Yes. Well. Evie somehow got the impression that it was a portrait of your dad.”
Dad chuckles and attempt to strike a similar pose to that depicted on the piece in question.
“It DOES kinda look like him,” I point out.
“But your brother painting a nude of your dad would be a little weird, wouldn’t it? I mean…why would she THINK that?”
“Because I told her that’s what it was.”
“ELLY!” she shout, almost loud enough to hear over Dad trying to retain possession of the coffee in his mouth.
“Oh don’t fret. She won’t feel deceived. I told ALL of the people at that party it was Dad. No one will contradict her.”
“That’s the last time I have you come over and help with my parties.”
Maybe I should write a self-help book next, eh? I’m a great problem solver. Though I didn’t quite master solving the lack of a voice today. This is as good as it gets, I’m afraid. Happy Ukulele Fridays!