The Impressionist Read Online Free PDF

You’re a loser. Who’d want to fight for you? She’s gonna have men lining up. Wait and see. Someone who can give her a real life. And don’t forget your boy. He’s so ending up in jail. Rehab time! It’s gonna cost you big too. He’s flushing his future down the toilet. Maybe he’ll move in with his mother? Well, at least you have your work. That’s what you’re married to anyway.”
With a clenched jaw, I ground my teeth. My dentist was going to have a heyday.
“And what are you doing wasting time sitting here with this old clown? He’s crazy you know.”
    “Shut…up,” I ordered under my breath.
    Never looking up, Jim Ed dabbed his brush in the glass of water, touched it on the palette, and then brought it back to the paper. It was as if he’d been waiting, calculating how long to let me wrestle with my thoughts. “Want to talk about it?” he finally probed.
    I turned my gaze from the kids playing soccer to Jim Ed. Unlike with Eric, I felt I could let my guard down. “It’s been a pretty rough day,” I sighed, “year really.” My eyes wandered to the lake’s edge where the Hooded Mergansers were splashing around doing what ducks do. Smaller than regular ducks, their shimmering black wings had long white stripes running from neck to tail and the males had black heads crowned with white crests and flaming orange eyes. Jim Ed said it looked like they were wearing hoods. I thought it looked more like Mohawks. Exquisitely and flawlessly designed, the Hooded Mergansers glided through the water with grace and ease like they understood they were exactly where they were supposed to be, doing exactly what they were created to do. What was I created to do?
    “You’re right,” I said. “They are remarkable creatures. I’ve been to this park dozens of times and never even gave them a second glance. I tell you what though—” I paused to consider whether to continue.
    Jim Ed placed his brush down again so he could fully absorb my words. “Go ahead,” he encouraged.
    I ran my hand through my hair nervously. “All right,” I said. “But this is weird. I’ve never talked to anyone like this. Not even my own father, not that he would have been interested
.
”
    “Sometimes it’s easier to open up to an outsider.” At that moment a ding came up on Jim Ed’s Blackberry indicating a message. “Excuse me a sec,” he said twisting his body around to pick up his cell from his cart. After reviewing the message he held it out toward me. “Here, it’s for you.”
    I grabbed it and read the text.
    “Who is this!?” Paige had sent. Then it occurred to me that I had not identified myself in my text and Paige had never seen Jim Ed’s number. Again, I felt stupid. That was par for the course.
    “Paige, this is Adam,” I typed back. “I left my cell at home so I used a friend’s. I needed to tell you how bad I feel. I didn’t mean it. Maybe we could go out to dinner tonight?” I knew it was a long shot, but I was grasping at straws. I pushed Send and held the phone in my hand, waiting while Jim Ed continued painting. After a while it was obvious Paige wasn’t going to reply, so I handed it back to him.
    He took the phone out of my hand with a sympathetic look and placed it back in the cart. “You were saying?”
    A huge white goose wobbled up to the bench honking. It was loud and annoying. “Get!” I shouted, shooing it with my hands. “Get out of here!” It stuck its long neck and beak in the air as if saying, “Well, I never!” and then wandered off.
    “Adam, you were saying?”
    My head dropped. “I don’t know now.”
    “It’s okay. I’m safe.”
    I locked my hands behind my head and leaned back. “I was about to say that I don’t feel at peace like you or those ducks out there. I certainly don’t feel God’s pleasure, if such a thing even exists.”
    “Trust me, it exists,” said Jim Ed.
    “I tell you what I do feel. I feel stress! Yeah, that’s what I feel, stress…and