Outside the Lines (41 page)

“Did you find a buyer?” Matt asked. “I thought you were dead set against selling.”

“I was. I mean, I am.” He looked at Matt with pleading eyes. “Please. Can I just take it?”

Matt reached above the fireplace and took the painting off its hook. “Of course,” he said. “It’s yours. Though I’ll be sad to see it go.” He handed it carefully to David, who held it gingerly in his hands. “You sure you don’t want to talk to a doctor while you’re here? We can get you all set up on another treatment plan,” Matt said. “See if we can make it work for you this time around.”

“I’m fine,” David said. He was done with meds, done with doctors and their treatment plans. What was he being treated for, anyway? Not adhering to society’s rules? He liked only answering to himself. It was the only treatment plan that seemed to work.

Matt wrapped the painting in a couple of thick plastic garbage sacks, taping the edges to protect the canvas from moisture. David thanked him and was soon on his way back north. It took longer than he thought it would to find a ride, but once he was safely ensconced in the backseat of a trucker’s rig, he knew without a doubt he was doing the right thing.

It was a cold and sunny spring morning when the driver dropped him off on the Seattle waterfront. It was early yet; a low, white mist rested on the sound. The fishermen were loading up their trucks to take up to the Pike Place market but store owners had yet to unlock their doors.

David stood on a corner, considering making the hike to Eden’s house, but he was too afraid she’d be there. He suddenly remembered the shelter Jack mentioned he ran, and quickly David scanned the area for someone he could ask for directions. His eyes landed on a man tucked up beneath a doorway off the side of the pier.

“Good morning,” David said. “Do you happen to know where Hope House is? A shelter around here, I think?”

The man opened his eyes sleepily, his right arm curled tightly around a huge bottle of beer. “Over on Pine Street. Around ten blocks from here, near Pioneer Square. Good eats there, but don’t think they serve breakfast.”

David issued his thanks and walked in the direction of the shelter. The wind off the water was icy and brisk; the sun hadn’t risen high enough in the sky to take the edge off the chill in the air. He tucked his coat around his neck and held tight to his belongings—the pack on his back, the painting he’d so carefully transported. As he approached Pine Street, David turned up the alleyway, thinking he’d be less likely to be discovered if he went to the back door. He hoped there was a sign so he could find the right building.

Halfway up the alley, a scent caught David’s attention. A sweet aroma lifted on the wind and brushed past him. He quickened his pace, and as he did, the scent grew stronger. It was then that he saw it. A fenced lot filled with a crazy mess of flowers—a wild configuration of hyacinths and daffodils, tulips and pansies. He stood in front of the chain-link fence, the fingers of his left hand looped through the links. He’d never seen anything like this in the middle of a city, nothing so beautiful since he’d lived in the house with Eden and her mother those many years before. There was a sign posted next to the locked gate.
the garden of eden
, it read in happy yellow print.
for daddy,
it said in tiny letters below. David’s eyes filled at the sight of his daughter’s handwriting. He knew it was hers from the loopy
y
at the end.

He looked at the sky to make sure it was free of clouds; he didn’t want the rain to ruin his gift. It was clear and blue as far as his eyes could see. Carefully, he unwrapped the painting he had retrieved. He touched the outline of his daughter’s face on the canvas, gazed into her blue eyes one last time. He knew she would find it here. And then, without question, despite all that he had failed to be, she would know the truth. She would see the painting and have no doubt her father loved her still.

In the beginning, there was my friend and fellow author Sarah Pekkanen, who read early pages of this manuscript and said, “Yes! Keep going!” I am infinitely grateful for her kind words and encouragement to forge ahead with the story as it attempted to fight its way out.

I was thrilled to connect with Laura Meehan, whose keen insight and remarkable editorial skill saved me from death by overuse of the word “stepped,” along with a few other grammatical tics that seem to plague me. Her input helped turn this story into what it is today, and I am so happy to call her not only my colleague but my friend.

For continued support, reassurance, and vast knowledge of the publishing industry, I am indebted to my agent, Victoria Sanders, who never fails to tell me the down-and-dirty truth and always, always makes me laugh. She is a loyal and wicked-smart advocate, and I cannot believe my luck to have her on my side. Thanks also to Victoria’s team, Chris Kepner and Bernadette Baker, who provide expert assistance at a moment’s notice.

There is little doubt that finding an editor who believes in your work is every writer’s dream, and I am thrilled to have the privilege of partnering with Greer Hendricks at Atria Books. Greer is an impossibly kind, positive, and perceptive professional—her gentle guidance and inspired thoughts undoubtedly make my work better.

Many thanks to the other amazing people at Atria who make this writing journey possible. To name only a few: Judith Curr, Chris Lloreda, Paul Olsewski, Lisa Sciambra, Cristina Suarez, Rachel Zugschwert, Sarah Cantin, and Carole Schwindeller. I’m grateful for the entire sales team at Atria, who so graciously welcomed me during my trip to New York.

I spent many hours in the company of some astounding people while researching this book—huge thanks to the staff and volunteers at the AIDS Outreach Project & Snohomish County Clean Needle Exchange, including Cheri Speelman (program director), Matt Standerfer, Carrie Parker, Mike Blackshaw, Patty Hellman-Scherping, and Angel Chovanec, as well as the phenomenal clients who generously shared not only their meals with me but their stories. Cheri’s many years of experience working with the homeless community informed much of Jack’s viewpoint in the story—I am beyond grateful for her compassionate wisdom.

And finally, my life wouldn’t run smoothly without my best friend and husband, Stephan, who joyfully cleans up the messes I make in the kitchen and takes the kids to the movies so I can write. Thank you for believing in me, loving me, and laughing with me every day.

Questions and Topics for Discussion

1. It’s become a bit of a cliché that great artistry can’t exist without some madness. Do you agree with this?

2. Though much is written in women’s fiction about relationships between mothers and daughters, there is less emphasis on those bonds between fathers and daughters. In your opinion, how are they different, and how does a girl’s relationship with her father impact how she develops as a woman?

3. Eden recalls that for years when friends asked about her father,
“I’d make up some story of how he lived in New York and traveled the globe looking for inspiration. It wasn’t like he would come back to prove me wrong. And after all, considering the ugliness of the truth, it wasn’t like anyone could blame me for wanting to lie.”
Why do you think Eden lies? Is it because of the stigma surrounding mental illness, or is there something else at work? What role does shame play in abandonment?

4. How did the alternating perspectives of Eden and David affect your reading experience? Did knowing more about David’s darker thoughts and actions make you feel more or less sympathetic toward him?

5. In one of the David chapters:
“The doctor had already decided how she was going to treat him after reading his chart. . . . Not one of them said, ‘David, do you
want
to be on lithium? Do you
want
to stop drinking?’ They all assumed that he would.”
Had it ever occurred to you that individuals with mental illness may not want to be treated or “cured”?

6. Though David wrote Eden many letters over the years, she never received them, as they were intercepted by her mother. Did you empathize with Lydia’s decision? What would you have done in her place?

7. How do you judge David? Is he responsible for his actions?

8. As a young girl, Eden accuses Lydia of “giving up” on David. She responds,
“Maybe . . . [b]ut only because he gave up first.”
What do you make of this idea? Is it Lydia’s responsibility to try harder than David? Why or why not?

9.
“What did it feel like, I wondered, to have people on the street avert their eyes from you to avoid interaction?”
Did this novel make you think differently about how you interact with and look at homeless people?

10. Jack is careful to refer to the people who come to his facility as “clients.” Why do you believe he does this? What do you think about it?

11.
“What was he being treated for, anyway? Not adhering to society’s rules? He liked only answering to himself. It was the only treatment plan that seemed to work.”
If David isn’t committing any crimes, do you see any problems with him living as he chooses?

12. Jack is wary about Eden’s eagerness to swoop in and save her father, once she finds him in Portland. As you were reading, did you share his hesitation, or did you empathize with Eden’s approach?

Enhance Your Book Club

1. Consider reading
The Glass Castle
by Jeannette Walls as a group. Discuss how being raised by mentally unstable parents, who choose to live life in unconventional ways, impacts both Eden and Jeannette. For these women, do their choices as adults seem to be a reaction to their upbringing?

2. Imagine that you’re the casting director working on the film version of
Outside the Lines
. Who would you cast in the roles of Eden, Jack, Lydia, David, and Georgia? What about Bryce and Rita?

3. Visit a local homeless shelter as a group—perhaps when the facility is serving meals to its clients. At your next meeting, discuss whether or not reading
Outside the Lines
affected your experience at the shelter.

A Conversation with Amy Hatvany

Your previous novel,
Best Kept Secret,
was told exclusively through the point of view of your protagonist, Cadence. What was it like to write from two perspectives in
Outside the Lines
? Did one voice come more easily than the other?

I thought jumping back and forth between David’s and Eden’s perspectives would be disconcerting for me as a writer, and in the end, it actually turned out to be invigorating. It kept my mind focused, and maybe even a little more motivated to keep writing. I’d finish one of David’s chapters, and then be excited to find out what Eden’s thoughts and feelings were about the same event or time frame. I think the alternate viewpoints worked out so well simply because this is not solely Eden’s story, nor is it only David’s. It’s the story of who they are to each other.

I was honestly surprised how easily David’s voice came to me. When I began, I thought writing from his perspective would give me a more rounded vision of him and his world, even if I ended up ditching the multiple perspective idea and writing solely from Eden’s point of view. And then he turned out to have such a strong presence in my head, it just sort of took over and I ran with it.

Not only does
Outside the Lines
switch narrators, the novel also moves back and forth in time. Was this a decision you made before you began writing, or did the story tell itself to you that way?

Moving back and forth in time was another technique I didn’t spend a lot of time considering at the beginning; the idea popped into my head and I thought I’d give it a try and see how it worked. I figured if it was clunky or uncomfortable, it would, at the very least, help organize the plot’s timeline. And then it turned out to be such a fun way to move through the story. Every time I sat down to write, my brain cells were hopping, pushing me to focus on time and circumstance in addition to which point of view I was writing from.

What kind of research did you do for this novel?

When the idea for the book first came to me, I was lucky enough to already be volunteering for a local program that works with the homeless population. I helped prepare a weekly meal and had the privilege of sitting down and getting to know some lovely people. Many were kind enough to share their stories with me; most just appreciated having a warm, safe place to connect with others in their community. Like Eden, I became the “Brownie Lady,” based on the mocha fudge treats I’d bake from scratch each week.