"I'm so pleased. He said you would be ready to go home in two or three more weeks."
"The brace guy is supposed to come and measure me tomorrow."
"We'll be so pleased when you come home. It's not the same without you, as I'm sure you can imagine. Betsy just mopes around all day. She doesn't have anyone to fight with." Brent's mother smiled.
"No Maine in August?" Brent asked.
"Maybe. We'll have to see what the doctor says. Anyway, you should be pleased that you'll be as good as new in the long run. No football this fall, but Dr.Matthias said by winter, when the brace comes off, there should be no restrictions. If we can't get to Maine in August, perhaps you and Betsy would like a week of skiing in January or February."
"Sounds great," Brent said. "I guess I don't mind lying here day after day as long as I know the end is in sight."
"Betsy wanted to come too, but she had swimming practice this afternoon."
"Fine. How's Dad?"
"He's fine. He said to tell you he'd try to get by on the way back from a settlement he has tomorrow morning. He'll be so glad to hear how well Dr.Matthias says you're doing."
"Yeah, well, tell him 'Hi' for me."
"I sure will. Have any of your friends been by for a visit?"
"No."
"Not even Jimmy or Tom? I'm surprised. I saw Tom on the street yesterday and he was so sorry to hear that you were laid up."
"No, he hasn't been by. You know how things are in the summer. Everybody's off doing their things, at the shore or somewhere. I've gotten cards from a couple of the kids at school. One from cousin John too."
"Well, it would be nice to have a visit from somebody else but family. Cards aren't much of a substitute."
"Oh, it's okay. Amy and Kirk and I spend a lot of time together. We have a good time. They're really great."
"I'm glad. Amy's a lovely girl. It's good to hear you aren't holed up all by yourself anyway. How's the food? Still as bad?"
"Worse."
"You'd think, at the prices you have to pay, that they would at least serve a decent meal."
"The only thing they serve are indecent ones."
"The night you get home, I'll make sure I have all your favorite things for dinner. Where's Kirk?"
"Out wandering."
"That's nice. I brought a surprise for you."
"What is it?" Brent asked.
"Your watercolors. I thought you might like to do a little painting while you have all this time on your hands. The doctor thought you could manage without hurting your back."
"That's great. Thanks."
Brent's mother took the paints, a few brushes and a small pad of watercolor paper out of her pocket-book.
"I'll leave them here on your table in case you want them. I hate to see you here without anything to keep you busy."
"I don't mind. But thanks."
"Well, I think I'll be on my way and let you get back to that book you were so buried in when I arrived."
"Right. Thanks for stopping, Mom."
"Take care now. Don't do anything foolish like sitting up."
"Don't worry."
"We're all so happy with your progress. You were a lucky boy."
"I know."
"Okay, then, I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry I've got to run, but I've got a million things to do today."
"Right. 'Bye, Mom."
"'Bye, dear."
Brent watched her leave the room. He reached over and swung the table closer to him. He opened the pad of watercolor paper and poured a glass of water from the Styrofoam pitcher. He dipped a small brush into the water and opened the tin of watercolors. He rolled onto his left side and propped his head up on his left hand. The pad was almost touching his nose as it lay open on the bed. It was awkward, but it would have to do, he thought.
What can I paint? he wondered.
He always painted landscapes in Maine. He had become very good at trees and rocks. Rocks weren't easy.
The view out the window beside his bed was only the brick wall of another wing of the hospital.
Not much of a landscape there, he thought.
He dipped the brush in the water again and swirled the tip in the small cake of brown.
I'll paint a picture of Amy, he thought; but it scared him in a way. He had never tried to paint a picture of a person before, only landscapes.
He swung the brush in a smooth curve down the right side of the paper. The sweep of brown caught the exact flow of Amy's hair.
He wanted to make it a good picture.
They'll probably laugh at it, he thought.
He continued to paint.