by R. R. Banks
I stop stirring the stew. “Are you, now?”
She nods, not meeting my gaze. It seems like it’s out of shame, not because she’s lying. “I’ve been really shitty. I know it’s not an excuse, but this whole thing with my ex has thrown me for a loop. I’m just not in a place to date or do anything like that. I’ve got a lot of shit to handle.”
I sigh and turn to face her. Just looking at her chips away at my resolve. I know it’s been a long time, but since we’ve been in each other’s lives, I’ve seen how much more walled-in she is than she was back then. I’m mad at that, but I understand it. She’s probably been through some shit that made her not trust easily. I don’t think I’ll know exactly what any time soon, but an upfront apology, even if it’s late, is a good start. I know I’ve benefitted from a second chance in my life, so I might as well.
“Thanks, Simone,” I nod. I almost rest my hand on hers, but I put it into my pocket instead.
“Are we okay?” She finally looks up at me. Her eyes are puffy. “Or at least on the way to okay, or to being just friends?”
“Mm, I think so. If you’ll open up to me a little bit,” I say. “Just as a friend, because it’s hard to be friends with someone who’s hiding shit all the time.”
“I’m really sorry. I think I can do a little better about not holding it all in,” she nods. “I might suck at it at first, though. But I like hanging out with you, so I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask for. I’m not asking you to spill your deepest, darkest secrets. Just tell me if shit’s bad, because I can read it all over your face anyway. I don’t need all the dirty details, but don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re clearly not, because it just makes you look like a macho asshole. And you’re a tiny woman, so it just looks bad.”
“Well, thanks,” she snorts.
“And speaking of that, are you okay?” I ask. She looks at me for a moment before collapsing on herself a little bit.
“Is it that obvious? I thought I’d cried it out on the drive back from the train station.” She pushes her hair out of her face with both hands.
“Your poker face isn’t as good as you think it is.” I turn off the burner on my stew.
“My meeting with Katya was a bit of a mess.” She fiddles with the ends of her hair. “She was not into any of the work I did, besides a pair of plain pants, so now I have to start over.”
“Shit, that really sucks.”
“I know. I mean, rejection’s a part of the business, but that doesn’t make it suck any less.” She bites her bottom lip. “She said it was too ‘young’ for her consumers, which I’m now totally seeing. I took the upstate inspiration too far since I looked at a lot of the young people around here for inspiration.”
“Is she pissed?”
“No, no. Katya doesn’t get angry. Anger is stress, and stress is aging.” Simone rolls her eyes. “But her being disappointed in me is almost worse. I won’t be able to ask her for a little help on my line any time soon. I guess I need to slow my roll. And also, if she did love what I did, she might not want to help because I’d leave her.”
“Maybe she’d see you as a baby bird flying away from the nest.” I taste a little stew. Needs more salt.
“I don’t know.” She absently taps her fingers on the edge of the counter. “I just feel like I’ve taken eighty steps backward.”
“I don’t know shit about fashion, but I’ve seen you working hard in there.” I nod my head toward my guest house. “You can bounce back. What’d she say specifically about what you need to change in the collection?”
“She wants it to be edgier. Something fresh but classic.” Tension comes across her forehead, annoyance. “So basically, she wants something safe that’s somehow not safe.”
“So… that doesn’t make any sense.” I take another taste. It’s pretty good.
“I know. I just need to decompress and regroup.” She sighs yet again. “And then I can start again. Somehow.”
“I know how that feels. Starting over, I mean,” I say. “But it’s not the end of the world.”
She nods, looking down at her feet. “It feels like it. I’m worried I’ll never get to where I want to be.”
“You’re not the type of person to just give up. You’re too ambitious,” I point out. “Maybe you won’t have everything you want all at the same time, but you’ll make it.”
“That’s really sweet of you to say.”
“I call it like I see it.” I reach up in the cabinets to grab a bowl. “You want some? I’m not a chef or anything, but it might make you feel better.”
“What is it? Stew?” She gets on her tiptoes to look into the pot.
“Venison stew. There’s some tomato and spices and stuff, too. At this point, I just throw a bunch of stuff in and hope for the best.” I put some in a bowl and hold it out to her.
“Is venison one of those meats that messes you up? The kind you can’t cook?” She takes it and eyes it warily.
“Nope. I killed it and butchered it myself, so I know exactly where it came from. I trust myself, but not the grocery store.” I give myself a larger portion and head over to the counter to sit. Simone follows.
“Wow.” She looks into the bowl, a mixture of apprehension and hunger on her face. “I haven’t had venison before.”
“It’s meaty.” I hand her a spoon. “Taste it.”
She takes a healthy bite, chews, and nods. “This is really good.”
I grin. “Yeah?”
“Mmhm. I’m not even freaked out that I’m eating deer.” She smiles.
“Oh come on.” I dig around my bowl for a piece of meat. “If I hadn’t told you it was deer, you’d be all over it.”
“Fair.” She chews a little bit, her hand in front of her mouth so she can talk without showing me everything. “There’s beef here, too. But I’m just not used to eating anything that hasn’t come from a grocery store.”
We eat in silence, side by side. The tension between us has melted away, and I feel happier than I have in a few weeks. It’s nice having her near me, even if we aren’t talking. She’s deep in thought about something.
“Katya wanted to see something with leather and maybe even some metal. She said my clothes were a little too preppy, so I have to counterbalance that,” she finally says. “Can I shadow you for a day or two to see how it’s done or what’s possible? I won’t get in the way.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone in the warehouse with me,” I say around a mouthful of food. “It’s loud, though.”
“That’s fine. I just want to observe.” She digs back into her stew. “What kinds of things do you make?”
“I make a lot of things out of deerskin leather, since I hunt and have to use it up somehow. And I can make pretty much anything out of metal.” I watch her poke at some chunks of carrot in her bowl, one of the few things left. I should have given her a bigger portion.
“That sounds great.” She finally looks a little bit better. “When are you going to be in the warehouse? I still need to unload my car and gather my notes. And I lied, this is really, really good.”
“In a half hour or so, I think.” I check my watch, trying to hold in a smile. “Meet you in there?”
“Yep!” She slams the rest of her food and hops up to put her bowl in the sink. “Thanks again, Jay.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I take my time finishing up and putting the food away. I make some more coffee and head back out to the warehouse.
It’s a mess today, lots of wood shavings and tools everywhere. I tidy up a little bit and look at my to-do list on my whiteboard. I’m making a gun holster from deerskin, but the client isn’t expecting it for another few weeks. I can swap some things around and work on it today for Simone’s sake. I need a break from carpentry for at least a few hours.
I turn on some music and start in on my work. Before I get too deep into a flow, Simone arrives. She’s changed into a black T-shirt and black jeans, but with
fancy boots on, a backpack on her back. The boots look like what a person who’s never had to have functional boots would get. They’re good enough for now, I guess. She looks like she’s copying me.
“What’s with the twin thing?” I ask, gesturing at her outfit.
She grins. “What, am I not allowed to dress like you? I thought you’d be flattered.”
“I’m…” I study her boots, so I don’t give her a full once over. “I’m not not flattered.”
“That’s good enough for me.” She puts her backpack down. “Teach me your ways, Obi Wan Kenobi.”
I step aside to make space for her and start with the piece of leather I’ve tanned. She listens intently as I describe the process of getting from deer to what I have in front of us, taking notes like I’m an actual teacher. I show her a few finished pieces and she has a shit-ton of questions I wouldn’t have thought to ask as a beginner. Most of my designs have been strictly for function for the most part — like knife sheaths or rugs — not fashion, but the way she thinks is opening up my eyes. I’ve never tried to combine leather with other fabrics or thought about how its color could change if someone wore it as clothing.
“So this was a deer that you killed?” She asks later in the afternoon, fingering some of the hide we have in front of us.
“Yep.”
“Mm.” Her brow furrows a little bit. “So you saw him die? Doesn’t that freak you out?”
“You’re wearing a leather belt and leather boots right now. You realize that, right?” I gesture toward each piece. “How are you still squeamish about the fact that I butchered the deer by hand? If anything, isn’t that more humane? I know he didn’t suffer.”
She gives me a look, one of those where one of her eyebrows is slightly up. It’s probably supposed to be intimidating, but it just makes me laugh.
“You know I’m right,” I insist.
“Okay, fine.” She bites her lip to rein in her smile. “It’s just hard facing the truth.”
It feels like she knows she’s talking about facing the truth in the universal sense, but I don’t want to press her on it. I just nod.
“I never know the source of the leather I wear,” she continues. “I feel guilty.”
“I can’t help you there.” I shrug. “But I can help you with shaping this sheath.”
“Right.” She gives me another smile and turns back to the task at hand.
The rest of the day goes well without any philosophical dives into her subconscious, and by the time I’m ready to leave, I feel strangely satisfied. I didn’t get anything done, at least in terms of my projects, but now Simone knows the basics of creating metal hooks and making things from deer hide.
“You’re a good teacher,” Simone comments on our walk back to the house for dinner.
“Really?”
“Yeah. You explain things well and don’t get impatient.” She adjusts her backpack on her back. “Why don’t you have classes here or something? I’m sure local people would want to learn how to do this kind of stuff. And tourists.”
“Eh.” I dig into my pocket for my house keys. “I’ve never really thought about it. I’m just wary of people coming into the town and changing what it is.”
“Why?”
I shrug again. “It feels like a rare place. That’s why I’m so pissed off at that guy trying to buy up all the land around here. He doesn’t give a shit that there are families that go back generations up here, or people who managed to make a good living for their families by opening up a shop. He just wants people to come here to line his pockets, even if he has to destroy acres of trees to do it.”
She takes that information in. “I get what you mean about the environment. But more people coming means more money going into the town and more jobs. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Yeah, of course.” I pause, knowing this is the one little blip in my continual argument against the town changing. “But the jobs Edgar wants to bring will exploit people. He’s done this time and time again, and I don’t think any protesting we do about the ecosystem will have an effect on him. Sure, people will have jobs, but they’ll be working for hours and hours with low pay. And it’s not like other people trying to buy things up in the town are.”
Simone nods. “Okay, I get that. So why can’t you expand your little operation? You can create jobs that don’t suck for all the young people. And since it’s already a warehouse and you have some extra space, you won’t have to cut down any trees or whatever.”
I unlock the door and hold it open for her to walk through.
“I mean… I guess.” I shrug and throw my keys in the bowl I keep them in. “I’ve just never thought about it. I’m a pretty solitary person.”
She walks past me toward the bathroom. “It’s worth a thought. It might be a good change. Those exist.”
She’s not wrong. I know people would be interested in learning how to make things, but I have no idea how to handle a business or even people, honestly. I can handle Simone, Holly, and Andrew. I’m not even sure if Justin counts, because he’s a baby and can’t string a complex sentence together. Everyone else? I don’t know. I’m introverted as hell. Would I lose the sense of peace that keeps me from being a complete fucking asshole?
And I doubt I could make a positive change in the community without any repercussions. I do have the money for it, but if I suddenly bought up a ton of land, people would know, and suddenly I’d have a lot of new ‘friends.’
But still, the idea isn’t that awful. I grab a little notebook from my junk drawer and write it down. I might come back to it someday.
Chapter Eleven
Simone
I wouldn’t have thought I’d be the type of person to be excited about going to a farm. But here I am, with bits of hay in my shoes and hair, petting an alpaca named Daisy, who’s stretched out on the ground, sunbathing. It’s the highlight of my day, and my day is already good. Since I came back from the city, Jay and I have settled into a peaceful friend zone, working together in the warehouse and talking a little bit. It’s nice.
“Daisy’s pregnant, by the way,” Maya calls from her spot on the fence. One of the big white alpacas, Woody, is resting his head on her chest.
“No way?” I run my hand along her side. She and the rest of the herd look pretty naked right now, since they were shorn a few weeks ago. Her chocolate brown fleece is still soft, though.
“Yeah.” Today she’s wearing a vintage T-shirt tied into a knot at the waist, jean shorts, and hiking boots, looking comfortable and happy. “The vet just confirmed it the other week.”
“So when’s she due?” I ask.
“In ten months or so.”
“Wow.” I look at her belly, which still looks pretty normal to me. “That sucks. I won’t be here to see the baby.”
“Oh, that does suck.” Maya sounds gutted. “But maybe you can come back to visit.”
“Yeah, I might.” I focus on petting Daisy, so I don’t have to think about leaving. I wish there were mini alpacas that are dog-sized, so I could cuddle one all the time.
“Do you like it up here?” Maya asks.
“Yeah, I really do,” I answer, standing up. Daisy stays put. “I doubt I’ll move up here permanently, but I’ve loved my time here. It’s very peaceful.”
When I came back after my trip to the city, I took a long look at myself. I did look more rested. More alive. I hopped on my scale and I’ve gained a couple pounds, but that’s not it. Hell, maybe I should stay. But how would I get a job that pays as well as mine does? It’s a rarity, even within fashion. Katya’s husband is a big-time entrepreneur whose business philosophy emphasizes paying employees well. Katya does the same. If I moved somewhere like Gray’s Point, I wouldn’t even be able to find a job doing what I’m good at.
“Eh, it’s okay.” Maya watches Woody trot away. “It’s pretty boring most of the time.”
“You grew up here — that’s why,” I point out. “I thought the town I grew up in was bori
ng. And even New York City is boring sometimes.”
“But there’s always so much stuff you can do.” She’s starry eyed and looks so excited that I can’t burst her bubble. “But I get that it’s probably a lot, since it’s so busy. My parents moved here because they like the peace.”
“Yeah, that seems like the case for a lot of people.” Jay instantly pops into my head, and that weird mix of emotions crops up all over again. We’re friends. Friends.
“Like Jay?” She asks, a mischievous twinkle coming into her eyes.
Jeez, did she read my mind?
“How do you know about Jay?” I ask, worrying that I sound panicked.
“Small town gossip.” She stretches and hops off the fence. “I’ve babysat for Andrew and Holly, and so I heard about their guest house imploding or whatever happened. Holly mentioned that you were staying on Jay’s property. And everyone knows Jay as the big, scary guy who keeps to himself.”
“If he keeps to himself, then how do people know him?” I point out.
“I mean, he’s like a giant. Like…” She looks up at the sky for a second. “Like hot, sexy Hagrid.”
I burst out laughing. “A hot, sexy Hagrid?”
“Okay, that sounds so bad but like, he’s so big,” she giggles. “And human, obvi. He’s hard to miss, especially since I’ve seen him off and on my whole life with the store being on the main drag and all. But yeah, all I know is that he moved here from somewhere else, which is why I brought him up. Holly said she was worried about invading his private space by sending you over to stay with him, but you guys knew each other already?”
I can practically feel her curiosity beams laser into my skull. I get the feeling that she’s wanted to ask about this for a while. Is the rumor mill that strong in this town? We’ve hardly been seen in town together, at least not that I know of. I know Holly’s only making chit chat with everyone, but that’s turned into something else.
“Yeah, I knew him from high school,” I explain. “He was my boyfriend, but then he moved. We’re just friends now.”