THE PICASSO PROJECT
“Everything you can imagine is real” (Picasso)
By Carol Anne Shaw
Copyright © 2019 Carol Anne Shaw
All Rights Reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.
A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE PICASSO PROJECT
I wrote the first draft of this novel about nine years ago, and when I'd finally finished it, I had it printed and put it away in my desk drawer. Occasionally, I would take it out and read through it, but I would inevitably stick it back in its drawer and try to forget about it. Fast forward nine years. That manuscript was still in my desk drawer, and I still hadn't forgotten about it.
So, I blew off the dust, did some heavy editing, and brought the characters of Eddie and Maya back to life. I hope. But I guess you readers will be the judge of that.
The story was inspired by a fellow who attended the same high school my sons went to. This particular young man lived in his car, alongside his mother, who suffered from some mental health issues. Anyway, this kid was brilliant, and went on to receive a full scholarship to a local university for creative writing. Last thing I heard, he was doing just fine. I'm not sure what happened to his mother. I hope she was able to get the help she needed.
Anyway, the story stuck with me, and I marvelled at the way this young man triumphed in the face of adversity; how he got up each day and got on with it. Talk about tenacity.
So, here is THE PICASSO PROJECT. Thanks for purchasing my book. I hope you enjoy Eddie and Maya’s journey.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter forty-one
Chapter forty-two
Chapter forty-three
Chapter forty-four
Chapter forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter Sixty-eight
Chapter Sixty-nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-one
Chapter Seventy-two
Chapter Seventy-three
Chapter Seventy-four
Chapter Seventy-five
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
Everything changes the day the cops come. Eddie knows he'll remember the stupidest things, like the way the Ravioli has bubbled over in the dented aluminium saucepan on the stove, and the fact that the T.V. is on - Real Housewives of Some Shit - its volume cranked high even though no one has been in the living room for hours.
His mother won't come downstairs. She's been locked in her bedroom all night, yelling and throwing things around, mostly breakable things. That's why the cops show up in the first place. Somebody called. Old bitch, Mrs. Taylor next door, Eddie thinks.
When they get the bedroom door open, his mother is out of control. She's swearing and swinging one of Eddie's father's old belts he must have left behind.
The shorter police officer is a dickhead. He tells her to stop being such a drama queen, but when he sees Eddie standing on the stairs, he shuts his ugly mouth. He has one of those stupid cop moustaches and a beer gut, and he smells like onions or B.O. Maybe both. He tells Eddie that they have to talk to his mother like this - that they can't take her away and get her help unless she gets violent. They are trying to piss her off.
Eddie stares at the cops, not saying anything, then steps over the mess of unpaid bills on the stairs. He stands in the doorway of his mother's room, but he won't go in. Most of his mother's hair has come loose from her ponytail and hangs limply in front of her face. Her skin looks even paler than usual, and her eyes aren't really blue anymore. Now they're the same colour as the dull grey January sky outside the window.
The cops keep talking at her, circling her like jackals until, finally, she strikes Sergeant Dickhead's shoulder with the silver Jack Daniels belt buckle.
Thirty seconds later, she has stopped yelling and started crying. Thirty seconds after that, she is sitting on the bed, her cuffed wrists twitching in the middle of her lap. The sharpness of her collarbone juts out from where her shirt has slipped off her shoulder. Man, Eddie thinks, when did she get this small? She looks like a broken bird.
He hears something and turns to see Maya sitting at the top of the stairs, peeling remnants of black polish from her bitten nails. Jesus. He'd forgotten about his sister. How long has she been there? She looks at her brother with terrified eyes; the same blue eyes their mother used to have.
"Listen," the other cop says. He is taller than Sergeant Dickhead but has the same moustache. "It'll be okay, but we need to call someone for you kids."
"No," Maya says suddenly. "We're fine."
But they're not fine, and both she and Eddie know it.
"I'll call my Aunt." Eddie says this because it sounds good, even though Aunt Judy is the last person he wants to see.
"We'll call her, son," Good Cop says, "and I'll stay here with you both until she gets here. Okay?"
"Okay," Eddie says.
He follows Sergeant Dickhead, who leads Eddie's mother outside to the cruiser parked in the driveway.
When Eddie walks past Maya, she grabs at the leg of his jeans. "I don't want to go out there, Eddie. I don't want to see her. I want to stay here."
He nods and walks out to the car where their mother is now slumped in the backseat
He places the flat of his hand against the window next to her shoulder. He wants to talk to her, but he knows she won't hear him. She's somewhere else in her head, whispering stuff about purity and grace and quoting shit from the bible. Eddie wonders how she knows all that stuff? It's not like they were ever big on church.
"You're o
kay, Mom," he lies. "You're going to get better. You just need another rest, that's all. Maybe a longer one this time."
He waits for her to respond, for a flicker of recognition to appear on her face, but none comes. Instead, she starts banging her head against the cruiser's window. Bang! Bang! Bang! Eddie might as well be invisible.
She stops, and for a brief second, Eddie thinks she's finally going to look at him. But she doesn't. She starts to sing that song Maya loved when she was really little: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. That's when Eddie knows it's going to be different this time. This time, his mom won't be coming home in a day or two.
When his aunt finally arrives, Good Cop calls for his ride and leaves.
"Wow," Aunt Judy says to no one in particular. "This place is a total sty." She doesn't bother to talk to Eddie, nor does she notice that Maya has bitten her nails so far down that four of her fingertips are bleeding. What she does see, is the bottle of wine in the fridge. She pours herself a glass and sits down in front of the T.V. Ten minutes later, Eddie overhears her talking on the phone.
"They took her ass away in a cop car. Yeah, I know, right? Always said she was bat-shit crazy."
A day later, a brown pick-up truck stops in front of the house, picks Aunt Judy up and drives away. She doesn't come back that night or the next.
On the fourth day, the hydro shuts off. The fridge stops humming, but it doesn't matter because there's nothing in it except an old bottle of ketchup and half a loaf of bread.
Maya refuses to go to school, so Eddie doesn't go either. He can't leave her alone. Not like this. She's only thirteen. But it sucks because he's already a grade behind, a result of that bad year when he was nine - the year they moved four times within two different towns. There was no time for school.
He finds eight dollars in change in an empty yogurt container on top of the fridge and buys some boxes of Kraft Dinner from Gina's Grocery, this week's special at 99 cents each.
On day five, he sees an eviction notice tacked to the front door, the word FINAL written across the top in angry, bold letters.
They don't wait to see what day six has in store for them. Instead, they throw what clothes they have into green garbage bags and put them in the back seat of the old Buick. The inside of the car smells like mould and cat piss. Will it even start? But Eddie remembers the jerry can of gas under the porch stairs beside the lawnmower. No one has cut the grass since his dad left, and that was forever ago.
He finds the can. There isn't much, but there's enough; enough to get them out of here. And anywhere is better than here.
***
Three weeks later, Eddie cuts class and takes the bus into Victoria. He doesn't tell his sister. But he has to know where his mother is. If she is safe. If she is getting the help she so desperately needs. If she is even alive.
He checks at the main hospital. Yes, a Suzanna DuMont was admitted to City General three weeks prior but was released after twenty-four hours. Released where, Eddie wonders, and to whom?
He checks the other hospital, the smaller one -- the one with the psych ward--and sure enough, a Suzanna DuMont had been there, too, but after four days, had again, been discharged.
Eddie isn't stupid. He knows how the system works: treat 'em and street 'em. It sucked, especially this time, when there was no husband to collect her and take her home. She had never been able to manage things when Eddie's dad had been away for too long. She'd always gone back to the drugs. Coke mostly, and mixing that shit with her meds was never a good idea.
But Eddie wants answers, so he takes himself to the worst part of town. He finds himself in dark alleyways, and underground parking lots, because he knows that some of the people who hang here, might have some answers.
There is a woman near the food court. She is pushing a shopping cart. Smoking. Her fingers are stained yellow, her arms, bruised. "Oh yeah," she says. "I know Suzanna. Skinny thing. Likes the blow."
"Sure," a man says. "I saw her a couple weeks back. She was hanging with Garvey. That dude's bad news. I told her to get away from him, but she told me to mind my own business. So, I did. I don't like sticking my nose in."
Eddie keeps asking.
Toward the middle of the afternoon, he spies a big burly guy with a red beard sitting near the Bank of Montreal, a brindle dog curled up on the pavement at his feet. Eddie recognizes him. Harold - a dude his mother knew years ago, during one of her especially rough patches. Eddie used to call him, The Viking, because of the beard.
"I know you," Eddie says. "You're, The Viking. Harold. You know my mom."
The man looks at Eddie through rheumy eyes. He mutters something unintelligible.
"Do you remember her? Suzanne DuMont? You used to play the guitar with her. Remember? Old Hip songs, mostly. Sometimes some Pink Floyd."
The haze clears from Harold's eyes. "The Hip. Scared. I used to play that one a lot. Sooze always liked that one. She would sing."
"Yeah!" Eddie says. "Yeah. She would. Great. You remember. So, I'm looking for her. You seen her lately, Harold?"
The man narrows his eyes. He has a scar across his cheek that Eddie doesn't remember from before. "Your dad treated her like shit."
"Yeah. I know."
"She was crazy 'bout that asshole."
"So, have you seen her?"
Harold shakes his head. "She's gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"Gone, kid. A week or so back. Too much blow. O.D.'d. Least that's what people were saying on the street."
"What?"
"Sorry, kid. Really. She was a real nice lady."
Eddie walks around in a daze before he eventually gets back on the bus back to Bridgeman Lake, then he walks for an hour in the woods by the school, mostly in circles.
Maybe it's true; maybe it isn't. Maybe old Harold is bat-shit, too. But he calls his Aunt Judy, anyway, from the school phone. It rings once, then twice. Then...the number you have reached is not in service.
Eddie goes to the washroom and splashes cold water on his face. He stares at his reflection. The whole moment feels entirely surreal.
Sooze is gone, kid. She was a real nice lady.
GONE.
FUCK!
He does not tell his sister.
CHAPTER TWO
"Why do I have to wear this stupid coat, anyway?" Maya asks. "I hate green."
"Because it's cold," Eddie says. "So, don't argue."
Maya thrusts her arms angrily into the sleeves of the coat when Eddie holds it up for her. "And I really wish you'd quit bossing me around. It's super annoying."
"Well, somebody has to," he tells his sister. Jesus. It's such a parent line.
As coats go, this one isn't bad. Almost new, down-filled even, with lots of pockets and zippers, plus it was only seven bucks. Some days you just get lucky.
Maya flips Eddie the bird then grins and bounces off toward the trees.
"Wait," Eddie calls after her. "Don't forget your lunch." He pushes a plastic Bridgeman Quik-Mart grocery bag into her hand. She looks inside it hopefully, as though by some miracle it might be hiding a deli-style chicken salad sandwich and a couple of double chocolate brownies inside it. Right, Eddie thinks. Dream on.
"Ugh! Those crappy bran muffins again? They're totally stale, Eddie. There's a reason they get thrown out, you know, and if you think I'm going to eat that mushy banana, I'm not. Gross!"
Maya is really starting to piss Eddie off. She's so sour these days. If she isn't bitching about something, then she's giving him the silent treatment. Eddie has a hunch it's just girl stuff. She's fourteen, so all that psycho hormonal crap has gotta be going on, not that she'd tell him. Not that he really wants to know.
They walk the twenty minutes to Bridgeman High, not saying much, which is par for the course lately. It starts to rain, and in less than two minutes, Eddie's right foot is completely soaked. He'll have to duct tape the hole in his shoe during shop class. Actually, jacking another roll or two
of the stuff wouldn't be a bad idea. Duct tape is essential. They'd be screwed without it.
When they reach the pathway that cuts up from the road to the school, a car pulls in close, and a guy leans out the window. "Hey! Hey, FAGGOT!"
Of course—Mark Johnson, the missing link, and Sean Talbot, his number one minion. For some reason, Eddie seems to be their punching bag. It doesn't bother him. Not much, anyway. He's become pretty good at blocking stuff like that out.
He and Maya keep walking.
"Nice shirt, DuMont!" Mark floors it, burning a little rubber as the black Trans Am peels away from the curb. But it's a lame burnout, especially for a car that's capable of so much more. What's even lamer is the shirt comment. That's the best they can do, Eddie thinks? Dissing the shirt?
"Don't listen to those guys," Maya says. "They're assholes."
"Got that right."
"The Arms tonight?" She says this as they split off in opposite directions to their respective classes.
"Yeah, and tonight we drive."
Maya's eyes open wider than wide, and from inside the puffy green hood she's finally pulled up over her head, she looks like a small, pale rainforest creature. "Seriously?" she says. "We have gas?" She looks at her brother as though they've just won the lottery.
Eddie nods. He doesn't tell her he was out siphoning gas from an F250 in the All Tech Shop parking lot at 3:00 a.m. It's an unnecessary detail, and some stuff Maya just doesn't need to know.
A couple of girls walk toward them, one in leggings, the other in a short skirt. Both are wearing a lot of makeup.
"Hi, Maya!" They call out in unison.
"Hey, Nikki," Maya says breathlessly. "Hi, Paige."
"God. Science with The Dweeb," one of the girls groans. "Kill me now!"
"I know, right?" Maya chirps. Her voice is higher than it usually is, and her eyes are shining.
The other girl—Paige—links her arm through Maya's and attempts to drag her up the path. "Come on, DuMont. We can all be miserable together."
Eddie's pulse begins to thud in his ears. "Maya!"
She stops. "What?"
He looks at the other girls. "You guys better go. You're going to be late."
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