ALONE TOGETHER I OWEN GRADY

Go Your Own Way

Go Your Own Way

Six years later

"You are sixteen going on seventeen, frightened of things beyond your ken..." Morgan sang tunelessly to herself, before mumbling to her teddy bear, making the teddy bear reply back in a high-pitched voice, the sound grating painfully on Cassandra's ears.

"Baby, can you keep the noise down?" she pleaded, Morgan muttering mutinously in return, only to then thankfully oblige.

But her relief was misplaced, Cassandra pulling the pillow over her head as Karen and Scott's raised voices came through the wall on cue, signalling the start of another row. She and Morgan had been here for a week, and every morning without fail had begun with the sound of her sister and brother-in-law arguing, their pale faces and overly pleasant pleasantries belying the lie at the breakfast table afterwards. Whilst Claire bailed on family down-time in favour of advancing her career, Cassandra spent alternate Christmas and summer vacations at Karen's house, but now she wished she had just stayed at home this year.

"Mommy?" Morgan whispered, making Cassandra glance down. "Auntie Karen and Uncle Scott are yelling at each other again."

"I know, baby," Cassandra whispered back, reaching out and smoothing back Morgan's dark hair.

"It makes Gray cry."

"I know, I know," Cassandra said again, burying her face into the pillow, trying to rid herself of reality.

"Can we have pancakes for breakfast, Mommy?"

"Maybe," Cassandra said, her voice muffled. "If I feel like it."

"Mommy," Morgan whined, clambering on top of her, "I'm hungry."

"When aren't you, kiddo."

~*~

Some people wear their history like a map on their face

And Joey was an artist just living out of case

But his best word was his letters home...

Cassandra tucked her pencil behind her ear, tilting her head to the side as she eyed her sketch critically. It was a rough drawing of Morgan asleep, her dark hair fanning around her head, her eyes crinkled shut. She intended to blur Morgan's outline when she redid the sketch in chalks, focusing on the elements of shape and colour to evoke the moment she had captured, always doing this whenever she used Morgan as a model, having never liked the idea of her daughter's image hanging in strangers' homes.

Sighing heavily, she then flung the sketchbook down onto the kitchen table, where it landed with a dull thud. What had once been a hobby had become a way to keep the wolf from the door, allowing Cassandra to turn what she loved into a living. It had started from selling her work on Etsy, to art galleries exhibiting her paintings and selling limited edition prints, Cassandra also licensing her art to be reproduced in different formats. Her signature style focused on capturing the special moments between mothers and children, and her name was becoming increasingly well regarded in this field, Cassandra always careful to avoid cloying sentimentality.

Surprisingly though, her most popular painting, Distant Horizon, had been the result of breaking the boundaries she usually set her inspiration, a world away from her usual domestic fare. It depicted an old man with weather-beaten skin and silver hair standing on the shore, cutting a lonely figure amidst the wild landscape, his yearning to be out on the water painfully palpable. She had worked on the painting for the duration of her pregnancy, giving birth the day after she had finally finished it.