by Barrett
She shifted in her seat and tucked her leg under her. In truth, she felt different herself. Knowing her relationship was irreconcilably broken and that she had to break it off scared her. But in moments like this, she didn’t feel quite so alone. For too long, the friends she had were mutual friends. And now she wasn’t sure which ones she could trust. Other than Diane and Mark, and now Kirin, she felt very alone.
She closed her eyes and draped her arm across the back of the seat. The open windows brought the scent of freshly cut grass. They passed a sign that read Fox Point. “My brother and his family live here, a little bit west.”
“Do you have a big family?” Kirin asked.
“Just Phillip and his wife, Barbara, my two nephews, Jack and Jordon—eight-year-old twins—and my mom. That’s where I was last weekend. We all went out to see my mom for a barbecue. She still lives in Elm Grove, but my dad passed away five years ago. I called Phillip because he’s the lawyer who drew up the legal documents for Rachel and me. Since she won’t make an effort, I will have to end it.” A cold ball reformed in her gut.
Kirin looked at her with a wonderfully kind expression. “That must have been a hard decision for you. You’re very brave.”
She smiled. “I don’t know about that, but I feel like I don’t have a choice. Rachel is comfortable with the status quo, but I can’t live this way anymore. I need Phillip’s help because, if I leave it to her, she’ll throw me out with nothing. I just . . . I can’t trust her anymore.”
Once again, Kirin clasped her hand.
“It’s the brick house, you can park in front,” Silke said.
Kirin pulled the car up in front and put it in park. “This is a charming neighborhood. It’s so quiet.”
“Most of the neighbors have lived here for years. Many work at the university because it’s within walking distance. Would you like to come in?”
“Sure, if you’re not too tired. I know this weekend has been an ordeal for you, so if you want to be alone . . .”
“Actually, I’d rather not be alone, but if you’re busy . . .”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“I have nothing planned,” Kirin said. “Remember, I was just going to do some touring. Maybe you could show me your studio?”
Silke unlocked the front door and turned off the alarm. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I take this stuff upstairs, then I’ll make us something to drink.”
“Can I use your washroom?”
“Of course, it’s just off that hallway on the right.”
Silke threw her backpack on the bed then changed into shorts and a tank top that were more comfortable. She washed her hands, face, and quickly ran a brush through her hair. She smiled at her reflection, pleased that Kirin wanted to stay.
“I HAVE ICED tea, diet soda, and water. I can make coffee if you want it,” Silke called from the kitchen.
Kirin joined her and leaned against the island in the center of the kitchen. “Iced tea sounds good. This is a great house. It’s much more spacious on the inside than it looks from outside. And I love the lathe-and-plaster walls with the wood trim. That’s real craftsmanship. You don’t see it much anymore. It reminds me of home.”
“Would you like to stay in here or sit on the back porch?”
“Let’s sit outside for a while.” Kirin motioned Silke to proceed.
The porch was small and screened in. Silke set the glasses on the table then sat on the cushioned rattan couch. “If you look just to the right of the garage, the odd-shaped building across the alley is my studio.”
Kirin leaned over slightly, closing the distance between them. “That’s convenient. You’re right. It is rather oddly shaped for a garage.”
Silke resisted touching Kirin’s shoulder but relished the closeness. “The original owner was a mechanical engineer who tinkered with car engines. He needed a large work area with plenty of light, which makes it ideal for an artist. The landlord has been accommodating in adapting it for me.” She faced Kirin. They were less than two feet apart, and she could see Kirin’s gentle face much more clearly. Why hadn’t she ever noticed her dark brown eyes and thick lashes? They were penetrating and warm.
“Have you always been interested in art?” A simple question, but it felt like Kirin was asking much more, or maybe she hoped so.
“If you ask my mother, she’ll tell you that I started drawing in utero. That’s an exaggeration. I’m sure I waited at least until I was able to crawl.” Silke glanced from the intensity of the eye contact. “They actually took pictures of the inappropriate locations I decorated. I’m sure you can guess the usual spots—my bedroom walls, doors, windows, sidewalks, and occasionally art paper.” She swiped the hair behind her ear. “To her credit, my mother recognized the creative spark and nurtured it. I’m grateful that she didn’t try to stifle what was really criminal damage to property.” She picked up her iced tea and watched as drops of condensation dripped on the hot skin of her bent knee.
Kirin wiped the drops with the palm of her hand, causing a tiny shudder up Silke’s leg.
“Do you want to see the studio now?” Silke took a large swallow and put the glass back on the table.
KIRIN FOLLOWED SILKE as she navigated her familiar path through the gate.
Silke removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the bay door. She pushed the door open and warm air rushed out from the confined space. “It’s pretty comfortable when the doors and windows are open.” She rolled up the door then opened a few windows including the transom below the skylight.
It was an amazing room, easily fifteen-by-twenty-five feet with a loft over the back half. The industrial skylight angled over the north roof, directly above a ten-foot workbench. The beams of sunlight were alive with dust motes. The old cement floor was in good shape and painted an industrial gray. The long insulated interior wall contained shelves that held a variety of paints and stains, racks of brushes, and bins containing all manner of hardware. A wooden scaffold beneath the loft was stacked with precut lumber and rough-cut logs.
Silke perched on one end of the workbench and watched Kirin take it all in.
“I have to admit I have never been in an art studio, especially one like this,” Kirin said. “It’s amazing. I thought when you described your early days as a budding artist, that you might have an easel and some paints, or dozens of sketch pads, or even one of those wheels where they make clay bowls.”
Silke’s laughed echoed lightly in the large space. “I see. Maybe you were thinking about Demi Moore in that scene with Patrick Swayze.”
“Now you’re laughing at me.” Kirin put on her best pout. “I had no clue. So . . . you work with wood?” She pointed at the lumber.
“I was teasing, I’m sorry. I actually do use those other supplies at the art school, but carving is more of a private passion—that’s what I sell. And why I was so interested in the carving when we were in Belize. By the way, I keep the beautiful gull you gave me in the den.”
Kirin sat near her in the drafting chair. “So the project you were commissioned to do is some kind of wood sculpture?”
Silke picked up the rolled up drawing and spread it on the workbench. “This is what I’ll be working on starting next week. I’ve ordered the logs and I’ll start by marking cuts for joining. Then I’ll trace where the decorative carving will be.”
The rendering was amazing. It had been drawn to scale with careful detailed measurements highlighted in a column on the right. The top of what looked like the lighthouse was ornate and included an antique-looking, six-sided light fixture. “It says this will be about ten feet tall. Isn’t that pretty big?”
“Since the client’s house is on the bluff, he wants to put this to the edge like a regular lighthouse, but it’s decorative and meant to light the patio area.” Silke leaned over the drawing, squinting and chewing her lower lip.
She looked adorable. At that moment, Kirin thought nothing could be nicer than spending the whole day with
her.
Silke looked up at Kirin and smiled. “What are you grinning at?”
Kirin felt her neck flush with heat as though she had been caught peeking. “Nothing really. I just was thinking about how much I like hanging out with you and not having to worry about deadlines and responsibilities. You know, enjoying a quiet day.”
Silke nodded slowly. “I know. I was thinking the same thing. If you want to, we could walk over to the university, and I could show you a couple of pieces I donated. They also have a nice snack bar with some great gyros, if you’re hungry.”
Kirin spun around on the chair and stood. “You’re a genius. I was just thinking about lunch. That’s a great idea.” She reached out her hands to help Silke down from the workbench. Silke put her hands on Kirin’s shoulders as she jumped down.
Kirin left her hands on Silke’s waist and felt her pulse speed up until the only thing in her mind was a voice screaming, “kiss her,” but she couldn’t move.
Silke stepped back and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll lock up and we can go.”
The campus was only a few blocks away and a pleasant walk on a summer afternoon. Kirin was relieved Silke didn’t mention the awkward moment in the studio. What a colossal lapse of judgment that would’ve been. She wasn’t kidding herself. She had feelings for Silke—the kind feelings she couldn’t act on.
“Why don’t we go into the union and eat first then we can tour.” Silke pointed across the street to the large student union building.
Kirin vaguely remembered being there before but it was over twenty years ago. The campus had changed and the activity seemed less hectic during the summer.
Several students waved. “Hi, Ms. Dyson.”
The coffee shop was virtually empty since most of the students were outside. They bought sandwiches and enjoyed an unhurried lunch. Silke described her teaching duties before and after her accident. She sounded bitter about being restricted to the classroom, and Kirin couldn’t blame her, but understood the issue of liability.
As they exited the back door of the union, Silke pointed to a tall, abstract wooden sculpture in a grassy area near the arts building. It was striking and seemed perfect for a college campus.
“When I started working here that was one of my first projects. My faculty adviser begged me to consider donating it. At the time, I had no idea my work would ever be worth money and the suggestion flattered me. I’m glad I did it. Whenever I have a bad day, I stop and look at it and remember where I started. It took five more years before I actually received a gallery offer.”
They made a large loop through the campus as they talked about their own the silly college memories. It was late afternoon when they headed back past the chemistry building and the last couple of blocks to the house.
Kirin surprised herself when she began dreaming up excuses to stay longer. As they neared the house, she had an idea. “I don’t know if you’re interested, but I have the first draft of my article . . . and I’d be glad to have you read it, that is, unless you have stuff to do.”
Silke stopped as she reached the front walk. “I’d love to. I’m surprised it’s finished already.”
“It’s in the car on my laptop. I’ll get it.” Kirin went to her car, pulled the messenger bag from the back seat, and relocked the car. “I don’t usually share my first draft with anyone, but you might be able to help me, you know, in case I forgot something.” She smiled, proud that she had found a good excuse and happy she didn’t have to leave yet.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“DO YOU THINK it’s warm in here? I can turn the air conditioning up.” Silke closed the front door and the drapes on the front window, which faced west. Odd, it had felt perfectly comfortable when they had left. The exertion probably made her feel warmer.
Kirin set her laptop on the coffee table and booted up.
“I’ll be right back.” Silke ran upstairs and splashed water on her face.
She folded the towel and sat on the edge of the tub. She needed to try to understand what was going on inside her head. More accurately, what was going on inside her body? It had been an amazingly pleasant and enjoyable day but she found herself feeling nervous and fluttery—in a good way.
Kirin’s attentiveness and interest in her work awakened an almost adolescent delight. Damn, she felt like she actually had a crush on the woman. That’s silly . . . or is it? She had a hard time admitting how much her self-esteem had suffered by staying in a neglectful and emotionally abusive relationship. This was new for her, and she wanted Kirin to like her. A giggle bubbled up. When Kirin offered to read her article, she had been overjoyed both because she genuinely cared about the article and because she didn’t want the day to end.
She trotted back down stairs and curled up on the couch next to Kirin. “All set. Read me your story please.”
“ . . . In this small Central American country accustomed to tropical storms, this was by no means the biggest or the most damaging. Nevertheless, everything stopped along the East Coast of Belize when the storm struck. The flooding paralyzed all modes of transportation, which are essential to a country dependent on tourism . . .”
Silke closed her eyes and visualized the story as it unfolded. Kirin’s voice was easy to listen to, and she read slowly enough to allow the words to take hold. She was able to follow along and remembered Kirin’s travel anecdotes. Hearing the vivid descriptions strengthened her resolve to return to Belize as soon as she finished her commissioned project. The happiness she experienced while there was as effective as a mood-altering drug. Thoughts of Nekoomis, the wonderful healer, interrupted her reverie. She remembered the words, “Light can flow to the dark places and make them better.” Listening to Kirin reading her story about Belize allowed her to feel that light.
“The end.” Kirin closed the computer.
Silke smiled. “That was breathtaking. Your words transported me there instantly.”
Kirin leaned back. “I thought maybe I’d put you to sleep. You really liked it?”
“Oh my gosh. The picture you painted of the damage was like a newsreel. And the interviews—those poor souls—were so eloquent. I feel terrible, because I never realized that Flora’s family had been so devastated. She’s always so cheerful. I had no idea. She never told me about her family.”
Kirin grinned widely. “Whew. I’m really glad you liked it. I was nervous because I don’t normally write this kind of material. Usually, I’m scrambling for new superlatives to describe the latest and greatest.” She turned to Silke. “This was a real learning experience for me on a lot of different levels. I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve been kind of spoiled and never had to deal with deprivation. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I had a lot of money, but I’ve always had enough for everything I needed. Most of the people I interviewed along the coast started with virtually nothing except maybe a roof over their heads—and then that was gone.”
“You’d never know it,” Silke said. “In all the years I’ve been going there and the dozens of people I’ve met, they never complain. They’re a proud and optimistic people.”
“Honestly, it inspired me to go back there and learn more about the country and its history. Before I do, I’m going to read up on the Mayan people. Sometimes I feel like we’re too sheltered here.”
“I’ve always thought the reason I was attracted to the area was because it was a simpler way of life. Now I’m not so sure. It’s a different way of life that’s complex in other aspects. They don’t seem to have the same attachment to material things that we do.”
“You’re right, and that’s probably the reason they can ride out the storms the way they do. They don’t accumulate the amount of stuff we do and by comparison, they don’t experience the intense loss. You remember the devastation caused by Katrina. It’s been years, and they’re still struggling to rebuild. The people in Belize suffer tropical storms regularly. There’s no point in holding onto stuff. Maybe that’s the lesson.” Kirin folded her hands behi
nd her head and twisted her neck.
“I’m glad we had a chance to experience that storm together. I’ll always remember it, and now you’ve written this wonderful article. I hope you’ll send me a copy.”
“Of course I will. If it was a book, I would dedicate it to you.”
Silke had no response, but was flattered.
Kirin sat up. “I feel like I’ve taken up your whole day. I should probably get going.”