We rushed to the entrance hall, where we found Mr. Fisalis chatting with Rohtas.
“Wewcome home, Daddy!”
“Hi there, Lettie. Were you a good girl while I was gone?”
“Yeah!”
As he usually did, Mr. Fisalis scooped his daughter off the ground as she flung herself at him, only to notice that she was holding something in her hand.
“What’s this piece of paper?”
“Daisy and I were drawing pictures.”
“Oh, how nice.”
Violet showed Mr. Fisalis the drawing she’d been working on earlier.
“But it’s not vewy good.”
“There, there. Drawing isn’t easy,” he said, giving his glum little girl a pat on the head.
“Hey, Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Draw something!” she declared, shoving the paper and pen towards him.
“What?!”
Mr. Fisalis stared at the supplies thrust upon him in dismay. That was odd—usually he’d be happy to jump into whatever game Violet wanted to play with him.
What, is he that bad an artist?
He looked back and forth between Violet’s beaming face and the paper, his brows drawn into a frown.
Should I throw him a lifeline?
“Daddy’s tired from work, Lettie,” I said. “You shouldn’t spring—”
“I wanna see Daddy’s drawing!”
“Wow, she’s being pretty stubborn about this.”
Our daughter shook her head back and forth, refusing to back down.
“Well, you heard the girl, Cercis.”
“...Fine. I’ll give it a try.”
I don’t think this situation merits a look of such grim determination!
Violet and I waited in the parlor while he went to his room to change out of his uniform.
“What’s he gonna draw?” she wondered aloud, bursting with excitement.
Mr. Fisalis showed up as soon as he was done getting dressed, and Violet bounded over to hand him the paper and pen.
“So? What would you like Daddy to draw for you, sweetie?” he asked.
“Umm... Me, and the manor, and flowers...”
“That’s an awful lot of requests! But I’ll do it.”
With that, my husband let his pen glide across the page, a look of deep concentration on his face. The lines seemed to flow so freely from his fingers that I had to wonder why he’d been so reluctant.
But I didn’t have to wonder for long.
“There. I’m done.”
“Hoo...ray?”
Violet ought to have been delighted to get her hands on the finished product, but her face fell almost instantly.
“What is it?”
“You’re badder than me.”
“I-I’m not that bad!”
What did you even draw, Mr. Fisalis?
“Let Mommy have a look, Lettie,” I said.
“Noooo!”
“Hm?”
Paying no attention to Mr. Fisalis’s desperate cries, I took a look at the drawing in my daughter’s hands.
What is this, abstract art?
“Hey, Cercis? What’s this jumble of lines supposed to be?”
“Flowers—what else? I based it on the ones in the vase over there.”
Oh, now that he mentions it...it looks absolutely NOTHING like those flowers!
He probably meant to capture its many layers of petals, but all I could see was a mess of scribbles. Why didn’t he try drawing something simpler, like your cliché five-petaled flower? Boy, did I ever pick the wrong flower to decorate this room! Sorry, everyone!
“And? Who’s that wearing the crown thingy?”
“Lettie.”
“Why did you put a tiara on her?”
“Because she’s my little princess.”
“I don’t look all scribbly.”
Mr. Fisalis had answered my question with no small amount of pride, but too bad for him—his “little princess” was pouting up a storm!
“I don’t think the princess is a fan of your work, Cercis.”
“Urgh...”
I could recognize the mansion, at least. It looked like some kind of building.
But man, I learned something new today... Mr. Fisalis is one catastrophically bad artist!
It was too much. The longer I stared at it, the funnier it got.
“Pfft... Wow, Cercis...snrk...drawing just isn’t your thing, huh?”
I knew I shouldn’t be laughing at something he’d worked so hard on. I tried my best to hold in the giggles, which only made my voice sound weird.
“There’s two things I’ve never been any good at: cooking and art.”
What does he do when he has to draw something for work? Wait, I know—that’s what he has all those talented subordinates for!
While I was considering how to pull my husband out of full-on sulk mode, Violet gave up on her father and declared, “If Daddy can’t, I’ll ashk somebody else!”
She picked up her pen and paper again, this time walking up to the butler waiting behind us.
“Rohtas! Draw a picture.”
“Me? Are you sure?”
“Yeah! Draw me and some flowers and the manor!”
“...Why, it would be my pleasure.”
Huh. Did I detect a subtle pause from our articulate butler?
Just like Mr. Fisalis, he took the pen without hesitation and swept it over the page, the perfect picture of a skilled artist.
But as for the eventual product?
“...This isn’t much better than Cercis’s.”
“Hrk...” His temples twitched.
“Wow, Rohtas! I see I’m not the only awful artist around!”
Mr. Fisalis was ecstatic to have found someone who was in the same boat. Rohtas didn’t deign to respond.