Freedom of Sketch

He gives me a very pointed nod. "Fine." He stands up, and I open my mouth to protest, as I think he's leaving.

He crosses the hallway and snatches two peppermints from the clear plastic bowl on the nurse's counter. Jenny doesn't even stir - that book must be fascinating. Daniel returns, and tosses me a candy. I catch and unwrap it as he sits down.

As I pop the mint into my mouth, he leans over with a wink. "Now they won't smell the beer, will they?" he says.

I laugh nervously. I click my peppermint against my teeth while Daniel crunches his. Neither of us says anything for a long time, until I finally manage to blurt out, "I love peppermint. Tastes like Christmas." I blush, suddenly feeling stupid.

Daniel reaches out and gives my hair a lighthearted tug. "You're funny," he says, stuffing the wrappers into his pocket.

"What are you going to do about college?" I say.

He returns my grim expression. "Looks like I'm not going," he admits, allowing his bangs to shield his eyes from any sympathetic look I might direct his way. "I don't have money. I don't even live in my own house anymore." He kicks the floor with his scuffed sneaker. "Life sucks."

"There are loans," I say, "scholarships."

Daniel laughs bitterly. "Right. I can't quite find any for kids with alcoholic stepfathers and codependent mothers. They'd be in the poorhouse if they gave free handouts to everyone with a dysfunctional family who passed by."

My stomach contracts at the truth. "Search on the internet. Write some essays."

He rolls his eyes. "Why are you so desperate for me to go?" He extends his hand and touches my chin affectionately. "You trying to get rid of me?" he jokes.

I shut my eyes and duck my head, holding my breath. Don't cry, don't cry, I inwardly command myself. "I want you to go because I can't,"I whimper.

"Hey," he says gently, placing his warm hand on my shaking back. I can't remember the last time I let him see me cry. I don't really care anyway. I feel too distraught and tangled up inside to bother with my outward image. "Don't worry about it," he soothes. "You're getting schooling here, right? You could win an art scholarship."

I wipe my runny nose and sniff. "As if. I can't draw what I'm used to drawing. I'm forgetting things."

"It's there," he says. "It's just hiding. You love art enough to never lose it. It's like... it's like a language. You forget it a little the longer you don't speak it. But once you start speaking it again - BAM! It's back!" He gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"But I can't draw what I want."

He frowns. "There's got to be a constitutional amendment that states otherwise," he says pensively. "'Freedom of speech', right? Or 'freedom of sketch'?"

I laugh scornfully. "That doesn't apply to me."

He shakes his head but he knows I'm right. "Any interesting art projects lately? Even if they aren't your usual?"

I smirk. "Do pine cone turkeys count as art projects?" I say.

He winces. "Ouch."

I bubble with authentic laughter this time. "Yup."

There's a pause so pressing that I can once again hear the familiar sighing quiet. Finally, Daniel stands, jamming his hands into the pockets of his rough jeans. "I'd better be going," he tells me. "I'm meeting up with some friends to go to the movies, and I want to beat this nasty weather." He nods at the windows. "Brady's paying. Can't say 'no' to a free show."

I swallow my jealousy. It has been what feels like decades since I have "met up" with anyone, or even seen a movie. I attempt to retrieve a memory of the popcorn and butter smells, the sticky floors, the rumbling volume of the music, the dusty shaft of light shining from the projector. I cannot completely remember it, but I know it's there somewhere, buried along with my ability to bring macabre scenarios to life with pencil and paper. I stand and hesitate for a moment, before locking my arms around Daniel's waist and burying my head in his warm chest.

He hugs back with muscular arms, runs a gentle hand down the length of my hair. "I'll see you again soon. You'll never be alone," he whispers in my ear. "Just... just fake it 'til you make it."

"Thanks. Have fun," I sigh.

Jenny abandons her book long enough to press the button to allow Daniel out of my cage. She smiles wanly at me. "Looks like we're the only ones here," she says.

"Wonderful," I mumble, lying back down on the chairs by the pay phones.