Someone Like Summer Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rome the summer before she died. The famous artist Michelangelo had painted it.
    â€œMay I tell you something?” I said. I had to tell her.
    â€œOf course, Annabel.”
    â€œThat is the only thing Dad didn’t design. That is a mistake. Esteban calls it ‘his bad.’”
    â€œSome mistake. I hope your father keeps it that way.”
    â€œI don’t think he will. He’s furious. My boyfriend bought the wrong size nails while he was working on it.”
    â€œEsteban did that?”
    â€œEsteban Santiago. Yes.”
    â€œTell your boyfriend that I like his mistake.”
    â€œI wish you would tell Dad that, but don’t say Esteban is my boyfriend.”
    â€œYou told me that already. I remember. Esteban is a Latino, hmm?”
    â€œYes, a Colombian.”
    â€œI will tell Kenny I like it, without mentioning Esteban.”
    â€œThanks, Larkin.” Then I thought about lunch again, what Dad would serve her, “Do you like paella?” I asked.
    â€œI love it!”
    â€œBecause my father might not have time to make his famous spaghetti sauce. He cooks it for hours.”
    â€œPaella takes a long time to prepare, too,” she said.
    â€œWe have some from the Pantigo Deli.”
    â€œThat is one of the best delicatessens out here.”
    â€œEsteban’s uncle works there. Sometimes he cooks there himself.”
    â€œYou say his name a lot,” she said. “He must be special to you.”
    Another “new” idea of Dad’s he got from guess who. I must have blushed. My face felt hot.
    Larkin hurried to add, “It’s a lovely name. Esteban Santiago.”
    We talked for a while about what college I wanted to go to when I was graduated in another year. When Mom was dying, a social workernamed Elaine had helped our family and become my role model. I wanted a profession where I’d help people. Dad had set an example for Kenyon and me. He volunteered for everything. When a fatherless boy from Seaview came back from Iraq blind and missing a leg, Dad worked on college applications with him, helped him figure out what benefits the Army offered, and walked with him while he learned to use his prosthesis. If you called an ambulance in Seaview, Dad could be giving you oxygen on your way to the hospital. If you were old and alone, he could be the one from Meals on Wheels dropping off soup and a sandwich. Mom said it was sexy the way he cared for others. Did you ever see his face, she’d say, when he talks to those people? Those soft blue eyes?
    I’d decided to get a master’s in social work. Elaine had said a B.A. was not enough for the good jobs. Think about becoming a therapist, Elaine had said. I told Larkin that was what I wanted to be.
    â€œHow will your Esteban fit into this collegepicture?” Larkin asked me.
    I was glad I didn’t have to answer that. I didn’t have an answer. Saved by Dad. A second after she said that, he banged through the door shouting, “Is he here? Have you heard from him?”
    â€œNo hello for me, Kenny?” Larkin said.
    â€œI’m sorry. Of course I have a hello for you.” He went across and held her and kissed her. Then he sighed and said, “That’s some ceiling, huh?”
    â€œIt is like you, smooth and sweet but with a small nail salad on the side.” Larkin chuckled. “That’s what I like about you, Kenny. Although you’re not an artist yourself, not necessarily a creative person, you don’t stand in the way of originality, do you?”
    My father was pondering the question, standing there in his work clothes, wearing his old cap, a little grubby, needing a shave. He was looking from the ceiling to Larkin’s face. He was trying to figure it out. Was she serious?
    â€œWhether or not you like it,” he finally said, “this kid didn’t follow my orders.”
    â€œHe made a mistake,” I said.
    â€œI can’t