anticipation.
"Yes."
"And?"
"His father threw a fit, telling him it was family
tradition to be a fisherman and a cranberry farmer and
he had to continue."
"Horse's ass," Kenneth said.
"Cary will do it. Some day," I said firmly.
Kenneth stared at me, a softness in his eyes. "You like him a lot, don't you?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Romantically?"
I nodded, sensing Kenneth wouldn't judge me
for my relationship with Cary.
"Not your first boyfriend, is he?" he asked. He
was sounding more like my father now, a father who
hadn't seen his daughter growing up.
"No, but he's the most . . ."
"Serious?"
I nodded again and sipped my tea.
"Don't give your heart away too quickly,
Melody. It's the most precious gift you can give any
man," he advised.
"I won't be like my mother, if that's what you
mean," I said sharply.
He smiled.
"Good," he said. "That's good."
We returned to work. Kenneth put more detail
into his drawing. He explained that he intended to do
at least a half dozen of these pictures, each taking the
metamorphosis to another stage so that it would be