Cheryl can't help but spill the news to her sisters about the horrible way Larissa behaved at the restaurant. It's the first time she acts as the gossip monger among them, and they sit and eagerly listen to her tell the story of the evening while awaiting their father's return.
"She was so mean to JJ!" she exclaims. "And that made daddy mad! I bet he's breaking up with her."
"Gods, let's hope so," Sandra snorts. "I can't believe she would treat JJ like that."
"Yeah, especially after daddy was holding her hand Monday night!"
"Whaaatttt?" Sandra asks, suddenly very interested in this tidbit of information. "Where were they holding hands?"
"At the restaurant when we were trying out the new dish. Daddy reached over and held her hand. Then they disappeared into her office for a long time."
"You just made my entire week, little sis," Sandra says, delighted at the thought of her father and JJ holding hands.
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Laura warns. "Remember what Bill told me? JJ isn't interested in anything long-term."
"I remember. But I can still dream, can't I? Do you know how great it would be if daddy and JJ got together?" Sandra wonders aloud, Cheryl smiling at the thought.
"They would make a cute couple, but I don't think it's going to happen," Laura says. "Don't put a lot of thought into it because you'll just wind up disappointed."
"Now who's the downer?" Sandra asks, glaring at her older sister.
Thursday morning Sandra loads the car with her portrait and drawing desk. Overnight she made the decision to turn in the assignment early, convincing herself that even if she had another week, she could not improve upon the drawing.
On the way back from picking up Laura at the elementary school at noon, she stops by the house and drops off her pencils and the portable desk before they go to the loft. Neither one of them notice the extra car in the parking lot when they get there. When they arrive upstairs and slide the door open, they discover Bill standing in the kitchen in his flight suit.
"Bill," Laura gasps, her voice thick with emotion.
"Laura," he says, exhaling her name like it's his last breath.
Sandra rolls her eyes. If she didn't know for certain that they are hopelessly in love with each other, she'd be convinced that they're acting out a bad soap opera. She leaves them alone in the kitchen, embracing each other, kissing, oblivious to everything around them, so that she can begin to pack up her items in the guest room. "I get to sleep in my own bed tonight," she happily tells herself as she strips the sheets from the guest bed and carries them to the laundry room on the opposite end of the apartment. Bill and Laura are still lost in each other as she traipses by, causing her to roll her eyes again when she returns to the guest room. "It's like I'm not even here," she mumbles. "I take care of you for almost two weeks and then I cease to exist when your husband comes home."
The light knocking on the guest bedroom door makes her jump.
"Come in," she replies.
"Hey, Sandra, I want to thank you for taking care of Laura while I was gone. You've been such a big help. I knew I didn't have to worry with you here."
"You're welcome, Bill. I'm almost packed up. Do you need me to stay a little longer or can I go home now?"
"You can go if you'd like. I'll be here the rest of the evening. Can I get you anything before you leave? Do you need a ride?"
"I can walk. I just have my backpack and my roller case. I'll text you when I get home."
"I'll walk you out." Bill takes her bags and carries them to the main entrance on the ground floor, then gives her a hug before she leaves.
She holds onto him longer than usual, enjoying the comfort of his arms around her.
"Sandra, are you okay?"
"What? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to over-hug. I didn't realize how much I needed one until now."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Bill searches her face looking for a hint as to why she needed such a long embrace.
"Hmmm? I'm okay. I had a hard time with a midterm assignment and it's still bothering me a little. But I turned it in today, so I just need to stop worrying about it."
"Alright," Bill chuckles, not entirely convinced by her explanation. "We'll take you to dinner a few times, find a way to repay you for all your help."
"You know what? You don't need to do that," she smiles. "We're family and it's not like you two haven't helped me out plenty of times. But I need to go. I'll text as soon as I get home."
On Friday, Professor Caran excuses the students who have already turned in their midterm portraits. Sandra is not only caught up with her homework, but she has also worked ahead in her chemistry and children's lit classes, turning in her proposal for the children's story she intends to write for her final. Dave isn't all that busy either, putting the finishing touches on the first few lectures of his short course, which will start Monday afternoon.
Sandra finds him sitting at his desk in his office looking over his lecture slides. She flings her arms around him from behind, looking over his shoulder for any typos he may have missed.
"Thank you, sweetheart. I've looked at these so many times already I'm sure I'm missing some obvious things," he says patting her arm. They spend several minutes going through his slides, Sandra catching almost a dozen errors.
"Daddy, I was thinking. I know you and Cheryl have already been there twice this week, but can we eat at JJ's tonight? I feel like I've been missing out."
"Aren't you going to the dorm party?"
"Well, I thought about it, but they aren't expecting me anyway, and I'd like to spend some time with my family and see JJ again. And I've had a craving for noodles for about 10 days."
"That's fine with me. Can you call and make the reservation? Might be busy tonight."
After making a reservation for three and chatting with JJ for a while, Sandra goes to the student lounge on the first floor of the building to buy a bottle of water from the vending machine. As she's pushing the coins into the slot, she hears a whisper in her ear.
"If I had known you were going to be here today, I would have brought you some water."
Suppressing her grin is impossible, and she quickly grabs the bottle after it rolls to the tray, then turns and smiles at Jeff, who is beaming at her.
"It's good to see you," she says throwing her arms around him.
This is not the reaction he anticipated, and he stands still, uncertain of what his response should be.
"Jeff?" Sandra mumbles with her face buried by his neck. "Could you maybe make this less awkward and hug me back?"
He exhales in relief, relaxing at her request, then wraps his arms around her and hugs her firmly. Sandra takes a few cleansing breaths, letting him hold her while some of her stress drains away.
"You know what, 3?" she asks, still enveloped in his arms.
"What?"
"You're a damn good hugger."
Cheryl is thrilled to be eating at JJ's for the third time in a week, especially since Larissa Lydiatt, or Larissa the Idiot as she likes to call her, is history. Sandra is home again and even let her sleep with her the night before with promises of a pajama party over the weekend. Her father is happy and relaxed, Bill is home, and things are bright and cheery in Cheryl's world. She can't wait for her sister to watch her play pyramid this coming Monday.
Hugs are shared by everyone at the restaurant, especially between Sandra and JJ. "I don't know what I did to deserve all this affection," JJ begins, "but I like it." She and Sandra make plans to have ice cream together again soon.
When they return home, the two sisters change into their pajamas while Dave watches a pyramid game on television. Cheryl brings Fletcher and the scrapbook of her mother to her sister's room.
"Can we look at this together? It's been a long time," Cheryl says.
"Mmmh, I'd rather not. But Fletcher can stay. Maybe we can teach him a new trick."
"Can't we look for a few minutes? I want you to tell me the story about mommy ripping her bathing suit on the slip-and-slide."
"You've heard that a hundred times already."
"It's funny and I want to hear it again," Cheryl giggles.
"Maybe some other time. Let's find something else to do," she replies, hoping her sister doesn't push the issue.
"But, Sandra, you told me we could look at this together whenever I wanted to," Cheryl replies in a whiney tone.
"I changed my mind. Pick something else, anything but this."
Cheryl runs her fingers over the cover of the book, then slips one inside, opening it to the page with photos from family vacations. "Please?"
"I said no!" Sandra shouts angrily, startling her sister.
Cheryl stares at her not moving, the book still open in her lap. "But you always said-"
"No, Cheryl! What part of this don't you understand?"
"Can't we even look for 5 minutes?"
Sandra grits her teeth together, fuming at the sight of her sister holding the book, her tiny lips shaped into a pout. "Take your damn book and your cat and get out of my room!" she yells, opening the door. When she doesn't move, Sandra grabs the scrapbook off her lap and flings it into the hallway while Fletcher makes his escape.
When Cheryl runs after her book, Sandra slams her door and tells her not to come back. A few of the pages are ripped, some of the photos have fallen out, and several are bent. "No," Cheryl whimpers to herself while examining the condition of the pages.
She gathers the loose photos into a small pile and closes the book, then sits for a minute to compose herself before calling to her father. "Daddy? Where's the tape?" When she doesn't hear his response, she calls again. "Daddy?"
"Right here, sweetie. What's wrong?" he asks, kneeling next to her. "Did you drop your book?"
"Some pages ripped, and I need to fix it," she replies, avoiding his question. "Can you help me?"
"Sure, let's go in the kitchen where there's more light."
They spend the next 10 minutes putting the pictures back into place and straightening the pages as best as they can. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" Dave finally asks.
The shock of her sister throwing her and the scrapbook out of her room brings tears to her eyes again. "Sandra got mad at me and threw it in the hallway. She told me I can't come in her room again."
Having raised three children, Dave learned a long time ago that sometimes bad things are done in retaliation. "Why would she do that?"
"I don't know. I wanted her to tell me the story of how mommy ripped her bathing suit, but she got really mad and said she didn't want to, and she didn't want to look at the scrapbook. Then she threw it out the door and told me not to come back."
Dave sighs at Cheryl's explanation, thinking it sounds a little too simple, especially since Sandra worked so hard on the scrapbook as a birthday present. "How about I scoop you a bowl of ice cream and you can sit here and eat it while I talk to her. Maybe you can still have that pajama party."
"I'll take the ice cream, but I don't want to have a party with her anymore."
After Dave scoops some strawberry and chocolate ice cream into a bowl and leaves Cheryl at the kitchen table, he knocks on Sandra's door. She's propped up in her bed reading, acting like nothing happened, until she slams the book down hard on her lap and says, "She told, didn't she? Little brat."
"I'd like to hear your side of the story."
"I don't wanna look at her scrapbook, I told her that, but she opened it anyway and asked me to tell her how mom ripped her bathing suit. I got pissed and threw it out the door and told her to stay out of my room. Then she told on me and I'm sure you're here to lecture me or ground me or something because she always gets her way. End of story."
"Why don't you want to look at the scrapbook?"
"I don't know, I just don't want to," she replies in an exasperated tone. "I've spent the past month drawing mom's portrait and it turned out terrible and I just don't want any reminders of the bad grade I'm going to get. Can't I be in a bad mood every once in a while? Sheesh, it's not the end of the frakking universe if I'm grumpy, is it?"
"No, it's not," he calmly replies, "but what I don't understand is how you could damage something that you worked so hard on, something that you gave Cheryl to remember her mother by. That's not like you."
"I don't wanna look at it and I don't wanna talk about mom. I need a break."
"Here's what we're going to do."
Sandra rolls her eyes, expecting him to punish her.
"Drop the attitude – that's the only warning I'm giving you," he firmly states when he sees the defiant expression on her face. "I'm going to let you sleep on this but in the morning, I expect you to apologize for yelling at your sister and damaging the book. Think about what you did and, more importantly, think about why you did it."
"Is that it?" Sandra asks in a snarky tone, not daring to show all her feelings on the subject, knowing it will get her into deep trouble with her father.
"For now." He kisses the top of her head as she sits stiff with her arms crossed, extremely unhappy with her little sister and now her father.
After he leaves, she mumbles, "Should've gone to the damn dorm party."
By Monday she's back on speaking terms with Cheryl, having apologized for her erratic behavior, but still refusing to look through the scrapbook and reminisce about their mother. She attends her father's first lecture of his short course, not taking it for college credit but just slipping in the back of the auditorium hoping to go unnoticed. However, someone spots her almost immediately and gives her a warm hug. JJ has decided to attend the lecture when she can, mimicking Sandra's behavior and hiding in the back row. It cuts into Sandra's library time, which means it cuts into her Jeff time, but that's okay. He's a good friend and won't mind, especially since he knows she's going to her father's lecture.
Afterwards, Sandra and JJ slip out the back and walk to the ice cream parlor in the student union where they discuss everything from the lecture to museums to what kind of music they enjoy. Sandra soaks up JJ's attention, similar to how she used to soak up her mother's attention. Gods she misses her.
In the evening she attends Cheryl's two pyramid games, watching her little sister kick ass on the court, winning two more matches and seizing sole possession of first place in the league. "Pretty good for a little brat," she commends her after the second game.
Cheryl is still leery of her and her wild mood swings, not quite having forgiven her yet.
The dreadful day has arrived. Wednesday – the day she will receive her midterm grade on her mother's portrait in intermediate drawing class. She considers staying home and wallowing in bed, but that's just prolonging the inevitable.
Gazing into her closet, she cannot decide if she should wear something nice, risking that the outfit will forever be associated with the day her dream of being an artist died, or wear the usual jeans and bulky sweatshirt, something comfortable, something where she won't stand out. A compromise is reached – jeans with a pretty sweater. "I look kinda cute," she tells herself as she pulls her hair into a messy ponytail looking into the mirror. "Might as well look good today."
"Are you coming to my lecture again today?" Dave asks after dropping Cheryl at school.
"You saw me?"
"Of course, I saw you. Both you and JJ."
"Not sure. I get my grade on my portrait today. Might not be in the mood."
"Okay. JJ won't be there, either. She's expecting a large group tonight and needs to get into work early to rearrange some tables and give her wait staff some instructions."
"I probably won't go then," she replies in a despondent tone.
"Sandra, what's wrong? You've been moping around a lot lately. If you need to talk to someone, let me know. I'd like to be that person, but I'd understand if I'm not."
"Thanks, daddy. I'm just stressed out about my class, that's all. I'll probably feel better by this weekend," she says convincingly.
The surprise of her morning is that she receives her proposal back from her children's lit professor. Her idea has been accepted and her teacher has given very positive feedback, especially interested in seeing the short story with illustrations.
Lunch is uneventful. Sitting alone in the main cafeteria of the student union, she nibbles on her cheeseburger and fries, trying not to obsess over her art class that begins in 30 minutes. Trying to remain positive, she reminds herself that she'll get to see Willow again. It's been 2 weeks since they've sat next to each other, and she misses her friend.
Sandra arrives in the classroom a few minutes before the bell rings, and Willow gives her a much-needed hug. "You ready for this?" she asks.
"No, but I don't have a choice."
"It can't be that bad. You're a good artist, Sandra. I'll be shocked if you get less than a B+."
"Right now, I'm thinking a C+ would be generous. But let's get this over with," she says, sitting up straight when Professor Caran enters the classroom.
In her loopy round-about way, Professor Caran talks about portraits and capturing the essence of people. Sometimes she gets off track, talking about landscapes and then portraits of people with landscapes in the background. Finally, a student interrupts her and asks if they will be receiving their grades today, causing several giggles and smirks throughout the room.
"Right! Yes, your grades," Professor Caran says regaining her focus. "You can pick up your portraits on the way out of the classroom today, your grades are attached on a sheet on the back along with my comments. All of you did a wonderful job, but there are two that I thought were particularly good, and another one that I consider outstanding, maybe the best one I've seen in this class."
She pulls a portrait from a large folder and asks the student artist to share who the person is, and the circumstances of the emotion displayed. This drawing is of the student's younger brother after scoring the winning goal of the high school pyramid championships. He's elated, proud, and choked up. The next drawing is of a student's grandfather on the day he finally finished his college degree, which took his entire life since he took time off to raise a family and start his own business. The student talks about how her grandfather felt a sense of accomplishment, being the first person in his family to receive a degree.
"This next portrait is unique in that it displays a contradiction on the face of the subject that I've never seen anyone capture before. I'm curious about the story behind it. Sandra, would you please share with us who the subject of your portrait is and what was happening in her life?"
"Huh?" she asks shakily while Willow beams at her from her drawing table.
"Sandra, oh my Gods, yours is her favorite!" she says in a loud whisper.
"Sandra, could you please tell us the story of this portrait?" Professor Caran asks, holding it up so the entire class can see.
"Oh, ummm…" she stammers, too shocked to speak.
"Who is this a portrait of?"
"My mom," she replies quietly as every pair of eyes in the classroom turns to her.
"She's smiling, but her eyes tell a different story. Can you tell us what's happening in this drawing?" Professor Caran presses.
"Well, she was happy because my older sister was dancing with my younger sister and we were at a restaurant…" she says, her voice growing quieter.
"And her eyes?"
She knew our lives were going to change and we would never be the same again. She knew she'd never see me or my little sister graduate from high school. She knew she'd never see any grandchildren. She knew she'd never grow old. She knew she would deteriorate in front of us. She knew she was dying, she just hadn't told us yet.
"Sandra, can you tell us about her eyes?"
It's too painful. My life changed forever because of what she knew.
"No," she replies, so upset she can barely speak. "No, I can't do this." As quickly as she can, she grabs her backpack and her coat, fleeing the classroom. When her feet hit the first flight of steps, she hears Willow call after her, then footsteps running behind her.
She runs from the building, blind to where she's going. Getting as far away from the portrait is her goal, and she ignores Willow's repeated calls of her name. A city bus is parked outside the student union, so she turns toward it, hoping it doesn't leave before she gets there.
The door on the bus has already shut, but she pounds on it with her fist, the driver taking pity and letting her climb aboard. Willow watches helplessly as the bus drives away.
Dave paces in his office going over some last-minute notes for his second lecture which is starting in 20 minutes. Hearing a knock at his door, he ignores it, hoping the person reads the "Do Not Disturb" sign he hung there 10 minutes ago and goes away. When the knocking becomes stronger, he tells the person they will have to come back later.
Suddenly Willow bursts through the door, out of breath. "Dr. Roslin, I'm sorry to bother you," she gasps. "It's important."
"Willow?" he asks, confused about why she's standing in his doorway in distress.
"It's Sandra, something's wrong! She ran off!"