by Gavin Green
***
Despite the thin covering of overnight snow, the heat from the forge and considerable concentration caused Simon his fair share of perspiration. He was alternating between two current projects. The acid-etching of details into one of the heater shields caused him to cramp after a few minutes of intricate work. He'd then return to folding metal to create a stronger alloy for a short-hafted Gael axe, which itself would require some etching.
The items were for Brody, who had placed numerous and varied orders and had paid handsomely in advance. It was oddly fortunate that there were no other current customers because Simon wanted to put his full effort and attention into his cousin's requested pieces.
As Simon took a break and swallowed the last of his lukewarm coffee, he wiped his brow and tried not to become too wistful of his current circumstances. Concerns over his financial and business status became secondary to him. What mattered more was family. He'd only recently discovered that he had some, and had found his only real friend in the process.
The whole of society had since stopped treating Simon with abject hatred, true, but he'd found that some people's memories faded slowly. He still saw the negation of everyone's ire to be a godsend, and still a mystery, but that didn't mean that he ever liked most folks to begin with. Brody Lynch was that glaring exception. And he was half a world away.
From the sent pictures, Simon's cousin looked like a big, beefy fella, but mellow and happy as his demeanor on the phone suggested. A "gentle giant", his ma would have said. Brody's lady was a sweet-looking filly, and Simon was glad to hear that she treated him so well.
The cottage looked nice and comfortable, what he saw of it, but the outdoor shots were what caught Simon's eye. There weren't many images, but the Irish landscape looked calm and rugged at the same time. Even better was that, as he found through simple internet searches, there weren't any forbidding forests or daunting mountains; thoughts of such still haunted Simon's dreams.
With the advance payment of Brody's order, Simon could at least cook his own thanksgiving dinner that year; microwave turkey wasn't something to look forward to. With his cousin in a foreign land, he wondered if he'd be celebrating it as well. Simon made a mental note to ask that when he'd call again soon, along with sending photo updates of the work in progress.
Another wave of loneliness washed over Simon then. Having Brody as family was great, but now spending holidays alone would be all the worse because of it. Instead of numbing isolation, Simon now had a reminder of what he was missing. All he could look forward to in a couple days was another phone call, and hopefully not poisoning himself with an undercooked turkey.