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I wanted to talk Father into letting me go to art school in Paris in the coming Spring which was as artistically far from Egypt as I could get."Do I have to?" I asked him."I would think that if the Minister of Culture commissioned a portrait, you'd be honored." Dad arched an eyebrow. "Of course, I would never force you." Which, translated, meant 'yes, you are going to have to do it'.That wasn't all that bad. My fathers were pretty cool, actually. Mostly, we kids got to do what we wanted. Occasionally, we had to 'pay the cost' as Father put it. We always had to get good grades and behave ourselves and, every once in a while, we had to entertain some politician or buyer or something. Sing a song, paint a picture. I've done much worse things for much less reason. In Agra, Ryou-Sensei wasn't the first person I had thought wanted me for the night; in fact, he was the first time I was wrong about it.Once, at a dinner party we had about a month after my adoption, Father asked me to. Maybe much more." And with that she turned and walked away.I walked out onto the dock and took a dive toward the swimming platform about 30 yards out. I used a nice easy freestyle that cut through the cool water easily, refreshing me, and making me feel 100% better. When I got to the platform I climbed up and rested for a bit, letting the warm sun beat down on me. It felt like it was in the high 80's already.I looked back to the cabin, which was so picturesque perched on the hill. Jill was on the porch, laying towels across the railing to dry, getting the full impact of the sun. Looking down at the water's edge, I saw Robin had entered the lake and was swimming my way, with an easy breaststroke. How apropos. She got to the platform and climbed up the ladder to join me."I have so many great memories of this place, growing up," she announced as she shook out her wet hair, and laid down on the wooden platform, taking in the sun. I was taking in the view."This area doesn't change. It.
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