The Fire Escape

Chapter Two (Mrs. Quigly)

I didn't run away. I just grabbed a pillow and my sketch pad and sat on the fire escape. I liked to draw but I was not good. I would never join the art club or anything like that, I mean I still draw stick figures. But it calms me down to doodle swirls or dots. And sometimes even spider webs. I am not an artist! I am a doodler!! I heard the clank of metal. Mrs. Q was probably cooking. The lady cooked all the time. I don't know how her frail little body could hold so much food.

I walked down a flight of stairs to see what she was cooking. She liked when I was curious enough to come downstairs and visit with her. She always wore an apron when she cooked, she had twelve different aprons hanging in her kitchen. Today she was wearing an apron that said "I only cook for the best, and I only cook for me!" I giggled and she must have heard me because she leaped back about three feet before realizing what had happened.

"Oh, hello Trinity-August. you startled me," she didn't have to tell me that, I was smart enough to figure that one out. I asked her what she was cooking and she said, "Cookies! And I'm working on some fillets for dinner! Would you like one?" It wasn't unlike her to make dessert first.

"Of course, Mrs. Q!" I said.

"Oh goodie! I was hoping you would come down today! I want to show you something." I got excited. Mrs. Q always had the coolest things to show me. I climbed in the window and sat down at the table in my usual spot with my back against the AC that never worked properly. Amanda, Mrs. Q's cat, walked in and sat on the window sill hitting me in the back of the head with her tail. "Amanda! Get down!" Mrs. Q yelled just about as loud as she could. then she put a plate down in front of me.

I looked down at the food. It smelled amazing and probably tasted even better! I took a bite of pear first. They are my favorite! Then I tried the mashed potatoes, which I am also very fond of. Lastly I tried the steak that was cooked medium rare, just how I like it! Mrs. Q knew me too well. I have been eating at Mrs. Q's for as long as I could remember and I think the only bad thing I've ever eaten ther was Amanda's cat food.

Mrs. Q left the room and Amanda followed while I scarfed down just about the whole eight ounce fillet. She returned with a box the size of a photo album and I thought that's what it contained until she opened it. I peered over the top waiting for an invitation to reach inside, "Go ahead," she finally said, seeing I was trying to be polite.

I took out a notebook and opened the cover I read,

This Book Belongs to: Abraham Quigly

The pages were old and yellowish so I turned them gently. I examined the contents of each page carefully. This was obviously Mrs. Q's husbands's drawing book. Mrs. Q was the only one who knew of my secret obsession and desire to be an artist. The tow of us has been searching her apartment for this notebook for years.

"Where did you find it?" I asked her excitedly.

"Under the bed I found the key to that lock box we had been trying to open. This box was inside." I smirked as I turned page by page looking at the beautifully complex doodles that were so good they were considered art. I finished off my potatoes as I scanned the pages. Neither of us spoke for a while. Mrs. Q was used to my silence and she must realize that she gets more out of me than my teacher and my mother combined.

Finally she spoke, "When you grow old I want you to give your drawings to your kids if you have them or even give them to a museum! Just don't hide them away like Abe did." I have no choice but to hide them. I was supposed to be a writer not an artist.