“Uuuhh…” she narrowed her eyes to read carefully. “So they want everything we’ve got…about Jāla’s language and history?”

“Yup. Books, maps, whatever we’ve got,” said Pa. “Mostly books though. There’s an old box of them at the bottom of the History shelf. Couple of them in the Jālan language too, if I remember right. Careful, it’s dusty down there.”

“On it,” she was kneeling by the shelf in no time. Reading further into the sheet, she grimaced hard. “Wait, this is for someone from Central University,” she scrunched her nose at the last two words. It was hard not to, given CU’s reputation for being a private campus for posh, rich kids who had more money than manners.

“It’s for the head of their Jālan Studies Department, Professor Desakshi,” Pa sputtered. “She’s a good person,” he added hastily. Suu chuckled at his need to clarify that.

“Good to know,” she smiled bitterly at the memory of several CU students having given her a hard time back when she worked weekend-mornings at a small restaurant. Bunch of proud, arrogant jackasses, that lot. “Do you know this person, Pa?”

“Sort of, well…your sister and I do. Used to know her, rather…” Pa sounded hesitant. Wondering how she’d never heard of this person, Suu turned to sit on her haunches and get a good look at her father. Pa was looking at the floor, deep in thought.

“Old family friend maybe?” she asked with a slight frown.

An awkward pause followed. “Well, um…” he paused, making Suu frown even more. “…it’s just, well, your Ma used to tutor her…and well, she also went to school with your sister at some point…” he trailed off again.

Suu blinked a few times before turning away. Someone who knew Ma. That explained it. Pa struggled with talking about her mother, and Suu knew better than to open up old wounds.

“You don’t have to tell me about it,” she said softly as she opened the box of books. “I’ll get this sorted out in a bit.”

Pa said nothing more, and Suu took that as a sign that the conversation was over. She was so engrossed in sorting through book-spines that she jolted when Pa dragged a stool to sit beside her.

“Professor Desakshi…she was widowed early on in life,” Pa’s voice was hushed and slow. Suu stilled, eager to absorb whatever this new information was. “She raised two young children all by herself, you know,” he added. “She’s been through a lot.”

Pursing her lips and looking down at the book in her hands, Suu’s thoughts landed on her elder sister. Big-Sis had to raise her little son and her own newborn baby-sister at the same time, all while grieving her own mother’s death. That, had been a lot.

“Big-Sis probably had it way worse if you ask me,” Suu muttered, the familiar twinge of guilt spreading across her chest.

All because of me.

“Good thing no one asked, then,” Pa chided, gently tapping a book against her head as if to warn her. She was sure he was frowning. “Tragedy isn’t a competition, you silly child.”

Suu chewed the inside of her mouth as she dove back into sorting, hating that Pa was, well, probably right. Still worse, the air between them began to sour, and a long lecture seemed to brew within it.

“All right Boss, if you say so,” she shrugged, side-eying her father curiously. “So,” she nudged his arm with her head. “Any reason you’re telling me all this about her?”

Twisting his scruffy white mustache, Pa drummed his fingers on his lap; his usual routine when he was panicking. “No reason, really,” his squishy face squirmed, making Suu bite back a laugh. Pa was a terrible liar, and the problem lay in his tattletale face. You could predict the weather with his expressions. “Well, I was just hoping you’d do me a favor,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Suu fixed him with a knowing, forced smile. All that ever came out of Pa’s mouth after the word ‘favor’ was first-rate nonsense. “As long as I don’t have to ask random strangers to model for you again, I’ll do what I can,” she said.

Yet another awkward silence fell upon the room, except for the sound of books thumping against one another. Suu fought the urge to both laugh and groan at the same time. Pa knew how to live. Difficult conversation with a neighbor? Send Suu. Wrong order at the supply store? Send Suu. Ask random strangers if they’d pose for a sketch? Send Suu.

“Suu,” Pa began with an awkward, questioning tone. Classic Pa, switching over to his sweet-old-man-voice when the going got rough. “What if its for a workshop, though,” he reasoned.

Oh not this sh*t again. Suu shot him a mean glare. “Get the workshop people to set you up then,” her voice strained, “Why is it my job to talk to people that you’re supposed to talk to?!”

She didn’t mind talking to people, really. But over the years, each new encounter with rude and strange folks made it harder and harder to land on her feet when they threw her off. She learned to become stingy with her words as well as the people she directed them at.

“But you’re so good at it,” Pa nagged. “You know what they say, the more people you’re connected with, the better!” He sounded a bit too excited at that, enough to set off alarm bells in Suu’s mind.

“Goodness,” she frowned, narrowing her eyes. “What on earth are they mixing into your paints these days?”

Pa snarled as he shook a book at her, threatening to send it flying her way. “Quit messing around and listen to me, you cat! Look, um…you see, the Professor’s son,” he paused, and Suu screwed her eyes shut right then. “Doh, listen to me!”

Theeeere’s his reason, she sighed to herself.

While she was more than willing to help her family out any way she could, she had to draw the line at Pa’s crazy-off requests.

“I saw him once, you know,” Pa continued, gazing into the distance with gleamy eyes. “Many, many years ago. He had such a beautiful face, Gods! Like those forest-faeries people warn you about, you know? I’d forgotten all about him, until the Professor walked in today. So if you could just get him to—”

“Wait-wait-wait,” she cut in. “So you don’t really know what he looks like now. Yet you want me to ask him to sit still so you and your students can draw him,” she stared. “Pa. Is this how I find out you smoke your paints?”

Pa stared back as the regular noise of the street buzzed into the silence. “Gods, I should’ve just asked when the Professor came in today,” he winced, ruffling his hair.

“Yup,” Suu hauled out the last stack of books from within the old box before looking back at him. “Besides, he could be married, a weirdo, or more likely, both. Not a good look, is it? Remember, Mrs. Venai said I was headed for a lot of trouble.”

“I suppose…” Pa conceded, looking away sheepishly. He looked a little ashamed about it, which Suu was happy about. “…I suppose it does sound like a bad idea to have you speak to him,” he crabbed.

“Not your worst idea though,” she shrugged. “That one happened over nineteen years ago.”

“That tongue is what Mrs. Venai was warning me about,” Pa groaned.

“Case closed then,” she exhaled, dusting her hands off the now neat pile of books. “I’m not convincing strangers to model for you, yeah?”

“All right,” Pa rolled his eyes in a way that said otherwise. “All right, all right. Could’ve had the chance to talk to a pretty boy,” he huffed, stool screeching as he left her side.

Suu rolled her eyes so hard her vision blurred. ‘Pretty boy’ and it’s probably just some dude who washes his face twice a day.

It took every bit of self-control to bite down the snark, knowing full well her sneaky old man wasn’t about to let this go. But the urge to argue began to simmer and bubble until she felt like a boiling kettle. Just like the weather outside.

“Well, you know what they say,” she mimicked Pa’s words from earlier, “pretty boys come with ugly problems,” she shrugged. Ugly problems that she would never have to deal with, Gods forbid. Problems were aplenty with her brand of luck and with the way her tongue was set up.

Pa spun around, his brows creasing hard. “That does not apply to your nephew!” he shot back, his grandfatherly defenses gearing up for attack. “Listen up, there’s nothing wrong with my handsome grandson!”

“What isn’t wrong with Prasanna you mean,” she stood up, crossing her arms. As was tradition, she apologized to her nephew in her mind before taking a deep breath. The poor guy didn’t deserve half the slander she sent his way, but his grandfather sure had it coming. “Nearly six-feet tall, grown man who screams like a toddler every time I drive that delivery-van,” she huffed. All that for a beat-up metal box on wheels. At best, it helped her pass her driving test. “Curly hair and pretty eyes make people forget that he looks like a stretched-out squirrel on a good day. I don’t get it!”

“Good Gods, I owe Mrs. Venai a sincere apology,” Pa scrubbed his hands on his face. “Fine, whatever,” his tone yet again betrayed otherwise as he lumbered towards his studio. “Now go make a list of all those books and clean them up, hurry! Back to work, you rude mongoose!”

Paint-man’s p*ssed, Suu slammed her hand against her mouth to press down a laugh.

“And oh, I’m not helping!” her old man grumbled from within the art studio. “You rude, mean, uncouth cat.”

“Oh noooo, biiiig scary woooords,” she mocked, the signboard creaking as she picked it up and pretended to drop it on the floor. “This poor cat’s fee-fees are sooo hurt,” she snickered, heading outside into the busy street.

With no university classes today, it was going to be a long day at the store.

“Be careful with that!” Pa’s voice reached her in all its angry glory. Looking back over her shoulder, Suu’s grin stayed on as Pa stared at her as if she’d stolen his money. And as was tradition again, she stuck her tongue out at him and he mirrored her. As ridiculous as it was, a part of her desperately wished these days would continue for a long, long time.

Just like this year’s ridiculously long summer.

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[A/N: Thanks so much for reading! You can read ahead in much better quality on Patreon.]