by Ceves, Nina
“Hot,” whispered Scott, his eyebrows lowering.
“Shut up!” Alma found herself laughing, just a little, despite herself.
“How can we find this man?” said Laura, thoughtfully.
“Oh, yeah, super easily,” scoffed Alma. “Hi, I’m looking for one of the volunteers? He had tattoo sleeves, blue eyes, and a voice like a friendly lion? Sure. That would not be awkward at all.”
Laura and Scott looked at each other, their faces slowly breaking into smiles.
“A… friendly lion?” Scott spoke first, trying not to laugh.
“Yes, it was raspy. Not like a sore throat, like, that’s just his voice.” Alma closed her eyes in embarrassment.
“Do it!” Laura nudged her. “Do his voice.”
“Yeah, I want to hear what a friendly lion sounds like.” Scott put his mouth against his hand, his eyes brightly watching her.
“No! You guys! That’s it, I’m going back to work. At my desk. To work, at my place of working!” She turned around and walked swiftly to her desk, sat down, and buried herself in her tasks. She was working with a local business that had a website that looked like it was from 1997. Loud music blared, the graphics were straight out of clip art, and there was a lot of clutter. Perfect. It would take all her talents and tenacity. Alma worked on creating sleek, bright images and clear information.
* * *
“Here you go, the winning prize.” Greta handed Daniel an envelope. “Congratulations!”
Elijah leaned forward to grab it. “Da!”
“Oh, cool. Okay! Thanks!” Daniel shifted Elijah, placing the envelope in his diaper bag, on the way to the parking lot to head home. Elijah kicked and arched back, screaming in anger. “Bud, that envelope is for daddy, hang on, I’ll get you Mr. Bunny.” Daniel shot Greta a look of “What are you gonna do, right?”
Greta nodded back understandingly, holding the door open for them.
Daniel had to dance around with Elijah before he could attempt to put him in the car seat. When Elijah got angry, he would hold his body completely rigid, his face beet red, making it impossible to strap him into his seat. Daniel slid the diaper bag off his shoulder, trying to keep it out of sight. Stealthily, he pushed it behind him, onto the passenger seat. Gosh, being a dad was like being a ninja sometimes. Actually, a lot of the times. Relieved that Elijah hadn’t seen the bag with the envelope, he reached into the backseat, grabbing a blue rabbit toy. “Here’s Mr. Bun, waiting for you, Elijah.” He held the bunny out to his son, and Elijah paused in his yelling, just for one hiccupping breath. “Don’t you want to go for a ride with me?” Daniel made his voice as squeaky as he could. “Yay, go for a ride!”
“Da!” Elijah held out his arms for the rabbit, all thoughts and anger about the envelope forgotten. Within moments, Daniel had him strapped into the car seat, and they were on the way home.
Man. He would have never guessed babies could be so… so irrational. Getting an idea in their heads, wanting something random, and then freaking out about it. He shook his head, grinning. His son was smart. Elijah could remember stuff now. It seemed like just yesterday that out of sight was out of mind. If Daniel hid something, Elijah would forget all about it. Not anymore. Every day brought more changes.
Chapter Five
Daniel remembered the envelope after Elijah was sound asleep in his crib. Looking around wearily at all the cleaning up he had to do, he saw the diaper bag by the front door where he had dropped it after arriving home. Then it had been a whirlwind of dinner, bath, storybooks, and bed. Grabbing the bag, he pulled the envelope out and opened it. Huh. You have won a free graphic design session at Graphite. That was it, except for a phone number. The font was some sort of fancy script, but there was nothing official looking about it. Daniel shrugged. Random. What on earth would he use a graphic design session for? Remembering the cool swish of paint against his arm, he felt his stomach muscles contract. Those brown eyes looking up at him, that brief smile. Grabbing his phone, without thinking any more, he called the number.
* * *
The next morning, Scott listened to the voicemail a second time, frowning. Saving it, he moved on to the next message.
“It’s Greta. Just reminding you that we’re babysitting this Friday. Uh, there’s one more thing. I, uh, donated a prize where the winner gets a free graphic design session consultation at Graphite. So, uh, if the person calls? His name is Daniel Rourke. He was one of the volunteers helping to paint the mural at the preschool. Just bill me, okay? I know, I know this is weird. But Scott, just do it. If he calls. Have him meet with Alma and just… just send the bill to me. With Alma, okay? Sorry. Thanks.”
Scott frowned and listened to Greta’s hurried message again. Then he listened to the previous message again and his jaw slowly dropped. Laura arrived.
“Laura! Laura!” Scott waved his arms as though she were across a football field.
She stopped and stared at him. “Uh, yeah?”
“The friendly lion! The scratchy voiced guy! Come here!” He kept waving.
“What are you talking about?” She walked over and took the phone from where it was lodged between his shoulder and his ear. “Speak!”
“Okay.” He took a deep, slow breath and let it out. “Quick. Before Ben or Alma arrives. Greta made up this raffle thing so she could set up a consult with this guy and Alma. And then the guy called. His voice is really raspy! It must be the guy Alma painted by accident!”
“Hold on.” Laura put her things down, picked up her travel mug of coffee, took a sip, and then faced him again. “Alma’s scratchy lion is coming here, that’s what you’re saying? Basically?”
“Yes! Scratchy voiced though. Not just… not scratchy.”
They stared at each other and then began smiling. Just then, Alma arrived. She stopped and stared at the two of them.
“Why are you looking like that? Why are you looking at me?” She set her things down on her desk and looked at them with concern.
“Oh, just have a message for you, hon.” Scott tried to speak casually but he had an air of suppressed excitement. “There was a sort of private raffle set up for the volunteers who helped paint the mural.”
“Did I win something?” Alma clasped her hands together, her eyes beginning to sparkle.
“Ah, well, no, not exactly,” said Scott carefully.
Laura nudged him with her elbow. “Just tell her!”
“What? What?” Alma looked from one to the other.
“Someone won a consult with you,” he said quickly. “You can listen to his message, and contact him.”
“I never saw anything about a raffle,” said Alma, reaching for the phone.
Scott pressed a key and held it to her ear. He and Laura watched her face avidly. Alma frowned, then blinked rapidly. She handed the phone back to Scott. Laura and he waited expectantly.
“Well? Well?” Scott couldn’t wait any longer.
“That’s… it’s … it sounds like the guy I was telling you about. The guy I painted.” Alma spoke slowly, not quite sure. His voice was distinctive, but they had had such a brief interaction.
“Can I hear it?” Laura reached for the phone.
Scott handed it to her, pressing keys. “Okay, here, listen.”
Laura listened, then handed the phone back. “His voice is totally scratchy! He must be the friendly lion!”
Alma covered her face with her hand. “Why did I ever say that! Who set this up?”
“Let’s just say… a private benefactor. Like in The Little Princess.” Scott looked shifty eyed.
“Oh, now you start with boundaries? Now?” Laura glared at him.
He widened his eyes slightly and tilted his head. Laura nodded imperceptibly.
“Should I call now? I should just do it, get it over with, right?” Alma swallowed.
Scott tore off a piece of message paper, jotting down the number and name after listening to the message one more time. “Gosh, you’d think I’d have it memorized by no
w.”
Alma slowly took the piece of paper from Scott, looking down at the name and number. Daniel. His name was Daniel. Could it be Mr. Tattoo Sleeves?
“Hey, this is Daniel, sorry I missed your call. I’ll call you right back, though.”
Alma sat up straight after hearing the outgoing message. “Hello, this is Alma Rivera from Graphite. Congratulations on winning the graphic design session. Please call me at your convenience, and I look forward to working with you.” She left her contact information, and ended the call, breathing out shakily. She tried to push everything out of her mind and just focus on work. Her client with the out of date website had complained that there was no bouncing, gyrating, animated animals in Alma’s fresh take on it. Back to the drawing board. Every time her phone rang, she jumped. Daniel did not call. Maybe he never would. Some people never claimed prizes, she thought, and maybe not everyone needed a consultation with a graphic designer.
“What on earth is that sound?” Scott appeared from around the corner, staring at Alma.
“Oh, I’m sorry! It’s that website. I can’t believe this client. I’m trying to think of some way to incorporate some kind of similar melody someplace on the site, but there doesn’t seem to be any way.” She leaned her head on her hand, sighing.
“What is that… that animated creature?” Laura came to stand on the other side of her, peering at Alma’s computer screen.
Alma burst out laughing. “I don’t even know! Some kind of… of… mink?”
“A meerkat? A stoat?” Scott sounded mystified, squinting at the computer screen.
“And what kind of dance is that?” Laura started laughing.
Alma stood up and pushed her chair in. “It’s the crazy out of date website from hell weasel dance!” She waited until the tune cycled around again, and then along with the little animated animal, leaned to the right, then the left, forward shimmy, back shimmy, and then repeat.
“Again!” Scott ordered.
Eventually all three of them had it down pat, synchronized, and they began adding their own flare. Scott said he would create an audio file with the music and use Garage Band to make it into an extended dance mix version of the website from hell weasel dance. For the rest of the day, as soon as they’d get back to work, one of them would hum the theme song and it would set them off all over again.
The day passed, Ben having come into the office late in the day after some appointments and meetings with clients. Finally Alma was at home, in her pajamas, on her couch with her laptop.
Going to be Okay. Getting over a crush takes time, she wrote. Even though I have the best intentions, I backslide. The habit of daydreaming about Mr. Off -Limits is hard to break. The addictive pattern of imagining him in my life as my boyfriend, with all the accompanying guilt, feels nearly impossible to let go of. The friends who know about it suggest I focus my energies on finding someone to date or even have a relationship with. How do you make room in your heart when it feels so full of feelings for someone else? Step number three. I’ve just got to believe that somehow, some way… everything will work out, just the way it’s supposed to be. Just right.
* * *
Daniel listened to Alma’s message again. He was sitting on his back steps, Elijah having fallen asleep in his car seat on the way home. He had learned that if he brought him into the house when this happened, Elijah would wake and be extremely cranky. If the weather was nice enough, keeping him outside somehow made him stay asleep. So, Daniel had carried the seat to the back of the house, setting it down carefully and sitting next to it. He pulled off his boots and socks and looked at the golden and brown earth and the mesa in the distance.
Alma. That’s who Greta had said had been painting next to him, the beautiful woman who had painted his arm. For that brief moment. Her voice, yes, it sounded familiar. There was something soft about her voice. He didn’t even know what he meant, he thought, shaking his head at himself. How crazy was it that hearing her voice, remembering that little moment, over so fast, of connection… he felt his stomach muscles tighten. He held his phone, looking at it. His life. It seemed so all over the place. His job, his rental house, child care, all of it depending upon his paycheck, week to week. How could he even let his imagination wander, thinking about a woman? How can I not, he said it himself. I’m not dead. I’ll call. I just want to see her again. That’s all. Elijah took up every bit of him: time, energy, money. Love. He wouldn’t have it any other way. But, still. Still.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Alma arrived at work a little early and checked her voicemail.
Hi, Alma. This is Daniel. Thanks for your message. There was a pause. She imagined a lion holding a phone in its massive paw. Probably too short notice, but turns out I’ll be done with work by two o’clock. Any chance I could come by around that time? Another pause. Anyway, no worries. Thanks.
Alma called back right away, getting his voicemail. Hi Daniel, so sorry I missed your call. Yes, absolutely, today at two is great. I’ll see you whenever you get here, I’ll be in all afternoon. Thanks. She left the address. As she ended the call, she wondered what kind of consultation he wanted. As she got ready to work, she realized something. She had arrived at work wondering if Daniel had called, wondering if Daniel was the guy she had accidentally painted. Wondering if it would be awkward if he did come into the office, wondering if he would even call. She hadn’t even thought about Ben, hadn’t needed to brace herself against seeing him. Then the door had opened, she had looked up, saw Ben’s smile and that was it. Her heart seemed to simultaneously lift and plummet, and a crazy making concoction of hormones or brain chemicals created a stew of intense pleasure and pain. Areas in her brain responsible for happiness and the other areas connected to despair were both lighting up, like an insane pin ball game. “Hi, Ben,” she said bravely, waving, as she looked back down at her computer screen. The familiar pattern of his movements, how he removed his messenger bag, went to go make a cup of green tea (he never drank coffee, it made him sick), and how he hummed a little as he started his computer up and checked his emails: she knew them like the back of her hand. As much as she tried to ignore him, he was the most compelling thing in the room for her. He took up nearly all her attention, as much as she fought against it. She sat back against her chair and repeated her steps: powerlessness, prayer, believe all will be well. Don’t give up. She thought for a moment. And, maybe, just maybe? Meet someone new?
* * *
He hadn’t planned this well at all, he thought, brushing off his tee shirt with his hands. He had worked all day with just a break for a quick sandwich. He was working with a construction company that mostly got contracted to build houses, and it was hot work. So there he stood, outside of Graphite, in his jeans and black tee shirt. It was two o’clock and there was no way he could get across town, shower, change clothes, and get back. He opened the door and followed the sign, heading upstairs. At the glass door, he stopped. There she was. It was the woman from the mural painting day at the preschool. She was standing up, leaning slightly over her desk, placing things in a portfolio bag. His response was immediate, uncensored. He wanted to kiss the back of her neck. The way her hair swung forward to hide her face, exposing her sweet neck. He wanted to kiss right there, lingering, while pulling her around to face him, deeper into his arms. Shaking his head slightly, he blinked, almost alarmed at the intensity of his fantasy. There was a tugging feeling in his stomach, everything felt tight and hot. Just then, she turned, catching sight of him. Startled, she blinked, then smiled, hurrying over to the door.
She opened it, looking up at him. “Daniel? Hi, I’m Alma!”
Her eyes, her mouth, that smile. He had to mentally kick himself. “Hi, I remember you. Great to see you again.” She was so little. Daniel wasn’t a tall guy, but next to her, he felt as though he actually was.
She stepped back, gesturing toward her desk. “That’s so cool you won a session with us, I didn’t even know there was a raffle.”
“I’m glad you trust me enough after I got paint all over you,” she laughed, covering her face.
He grinned, entranced by the way he could see her eyes partially through her fingers. “I would totally trust you around an open bucket of paint again, anytime.”
She laughed and he looked at her mouth. Her voice was so soft and somehow pretty sounding. Her words had a slight, almost undetectable Mexican accent, on some words more than others. He took a quick breath and crossed his arms, and tried to stop smiling so much.
“Can I get you anything? We have iced green tea, coconut water, water.” She looked at him expectantly.
“Thanks, no, I’m good.” He smiled, uncrossed his arms, looking straight at her.
“Well, then, let’s get straight to work.” She smiled. “You’ve won a session with me, so what kind of project can I help you with?”
“Thing is.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to think of something all day. I have no idea, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to waste your time. Some day… I want to have my own business. I can imagine if I did, I’d need a graphic designer for advertisements and everything. But I’m nowhere close to that at this point.”
Alma sat back, considering his words. “That’s okay. If you ever need any graphics done, or want some help with a website, like you said, with advertising, anything like that… just let me know. I can show you a portfolio of some of my work, and you can decide if you ever want to work with me.” She looked at him inquiringly.
“That’s great, thanks.”
She angled her computer screen so that he could see it, and clicked on a slide show of some of her recent projects.