The Good Son Carolyn Mills (best english novels to read txt) 📖

Textiles had been one of Dunford’s original industries and even though I was a child when it closed in 1982 after over sixty years of producing woolen socks and flannel, I remember Mom shaking her head sadly the day they boarded it up. Now that it was home to so many different studios, I figured she must be happy that the building had been given a new life.

I was intrigued by the pottery classes and imagined enrolling with Amir. When I broached the subject, he was more receptive than I’d expected.

“You know the scene in Ghost, with the pottery wheel?” I asked him one night while we were trying to decide what to do.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Gulman’s Studio has a pottery class on Tuesday nights and I thought it’d be a fun thing to do together.”

“You want me to take a pottery class with you?” Amir looked at me quizzically, probably trying to gauge whether or not I was serious. “Hmmm, I do like the idea of playing Patrick Swayze to your Demi Moore.”

I swatted his arm playfully.

After only a few pottery classes, however, any thoughts of recreating the iconic scene from Ghost likely disappeared from Amir’s mind. There was nothing sexy about using a pottery wheel. It was messy and frustrating and way harder than it looked. I much preferred my photography class, where I was experiencing a growing competency in my skills.

“Are you enjoying this?” I asked Amir one night, as he struggled to throw a simple bowl.

“Not really,” he admitted.

Our projects were on the pathetic side: I made two lopsided vases, and Amir created something that looked like a mini milk pitcher with a squished handle. But the photography class turned out to be a winner; I was excited to show Amir a print of mine that had been chosen by my instructor to showcase in the lobby.

“That’s incredible!” Amir gushed, examining my study of shadow. “I think photography is your hidden calling.”

The picture wasn’t really worthy of that much praise, but I liked that Amir was so enthusiastic. So supportive. I’d taken the shot in one of the building’s old stairwells, where the shadows from a barred window fell across the steps. The lines of the bars were distorted by the stairs, creating a disrupted pattern of shadow and light.

“With black and white photos, it’s all about contrasting tones,” I told him. “We were experimenting with depth and shadow and tonality. But my favourite part was developing the print. I love playing with the image after it’s been taken, in the darkroom.”

“I could build you one,” Amir said.

My head jerked up. “What?”

“If you wanted your own darkroom, like in your basement, I could make one for you. Zoe, this is your passion. You should pursue it.”

“I’d have to get all kinds of equipment. An enlarger, safelights, trays.”

Amir didn’t say anything else, so I dropped it. I figured it had been a fleeting idea, and sensing my resistance, he’d immediately thought better of it.

So I was surprised when a few days later he told me he’d made a list of everything I would need for a darkroom and had sourced out some prices. “You can get an enlarger for about four hundred dollars. The rest of the stuff isn’t that expensive and some of it you can improvise. Come downstairs, I’ll show you where I was thinking.”

One thing led to another and Amir built me my darkroom. He also bought me a used Canon 35mm film camera that he found online. I don’t know about photography being my calling, but it’s certainly turned into my passion, and it’s one of the few remnants of my life with Amir that stuck.

CHAPTER FOUR

•

WHILE I WAS DATING AMIR, I was lulled, or maybe thrust, into the hope that my life was going in a new and much better direction. I even had a few normal conversations with Ricky, which, given how infrequently we spoke to each other, seemed significant to me.

“I ordered Mom a planter for her birthday,” Ricky told me over the phone. “Can you drop it off and help her set it up?”

“Are you going to see her soon? She wants to know how Leah’s doing.”

“Leah’s good. We’re all good. Although I’ve been thinking about getting out of the city for a bit, just a few days, to unwind. Doesn’t Amir’s dad have a property or something up north?”

I hesitated. “It’s his dad’s friend’s and it’s a fishing lodge, but the place is falling apart. The last time Amir and I were there a section of the dock was under an inch of water and most of the cabins were empty. I think the owner, Lance, is slowly shutting the place down.”

“Maybe we could go before he does,” Ricky said. “It would be nice to just hang out, relax. Spend some time together like we used to.”

When had Ricky and I ever spent time together? “You would hate it, Ricky. It’s really rustic and completely rundown.”

“I’m okay with rustic. In fact, I think that’s what I’m looking for. I just need a change. Some fresh air. Besides, doing a little fishing together wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Part of me was repulsed at the idea of spending a weekend with my brother, stuck for hours in an aluminum boat out in the middle of Georgian Bay, but the little sister buried deep inside of me was excited that he wanted to spend time with me. His divorce from Erika must have been taking more of a toll on him than I expected.

“Are you serious about this?”

It was already September, so if Ricky really wanted to visit Windy Pines, we’d have to go soon. I expected him to laugh at the suggestion of making real plans, but he surprised me.

“When are you off next?” he asked. “I’m pretty flexible.”

When I broached the subject with Amir, he was overly enthusiastic. “Oh, Zoe! I think that’s great. Lance would love to have you. I’d try and go too,