Times Like These

by Ana McKenzie

  Smiling, she listened to the manager assuring her it would be no problem at all, then gave her credit card details, and disconnected.

  A moment later she was talking to her favourite courier, who ran their own app picking up and delivering all manner of things, cutting out the middle man, just peer-to-peer easy peasy.

  ‘Nope,’ she said to them. ‘Nothing written down on the delivery end on this one. I just want you to pick up all the stuff and take it to this address.’ She gave them the street and number. ‘Pick up in two hours; that’ll be awesome.’ She grinned at their reply. ‘You’re the best, Lex. I’ll be there when you make the delivery, I hope, so I’ll see you then.’

  Back in the conference room, everyone was stretching and chatting.

  ‘Done?’ she asked. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Yeah, well, they don’t call us good for nothing.’ Dave, who looked for all the world like a guy who spent all his time surfing, flexed his knuckles and grinned at her.

  ‘We collated a list; it’s ready for you to look over and email if you think it’s good.’ Mee-Yon reached for more water. ‘It’s in the work-chat.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Merren said. ‘Thanks for this, you guys. Above and beyond, you’ve really done me a favour.’

  There were nods all round, and Merren tapped at her computer, brought up the list and looked it over.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘These oil sticks are the way to go?’

  ‘For sure,’ the third member of the team, Ji, said. He stretched and Merren heard his spine crack. ‘If the artist can’t see, or can’t see well, then fiddling round with brushes would be a bitch. These things are brilliant.’

  Mee-Yon nodded. ‘I watched a couple YouTube videos. They look fun. Made me want to try them. You can use them like a crayon or take the wrapper off and use them side on, for wider, sweeping lines. They’re just like oil paints, but without all the messy mixing and thinning. Perfect.’

  ‘Yeah, and we’ve included the holder trays for them so that your artist can line them up and memorise the order – and always get the right colour just like that.’ Ji sat back, looking immensely satisfied.

  ‘And there’s a bunch of other stuff on the list. Everything they’d need, just like you asked for,’ Dave added. ‘You’ll have to order the boards separately, from like, a hardware and lumber place, or something.’

  Merren shook her head, touched. ‘You guys are awesome. This is fantastic.’ She sat down at the table, and moved the list over to her email, sending it quickly through to the art shop. ‘Right, that’s the fun bit over with then, let’s get back on track, shall we?’

  They all shuffled in their seats, setting their computers beside them where they could still see the screens but could talk to each other as well.

  Dave rubbed his hands together. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I reckon everything we do is a heck of a lot of fun.’

  There was agreement all round, and Merren smiled along with them, but she looked at her watch again, checking the time.

  She’d run everyone through the business as quickly as possible, and then she’d head over to see Bianca.

  She adored her work, but the next hour and a half couldn’t go fast enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Merren bounced on the toes of her tennis shoes and knocked on the door. It swung open under her knuckles, and she pushed it cautiously wide.

  ‘Bianca?’ she called. ‘It’s Merren.’

  There was a crashing sound from a room to the right – the kitchen, Merren guessed, and she hurried towards it.

  ‘Bianca?’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

  Bianca stood beside the kitchen table, a chair overturned in front of her, a tangle of curls over her eyes. Her hands splayed out in the air in front of her, groping towards Merren.

  ‘I’m fucking caught in it,’ she cried, bending over, one hand moving to push at the chair.

  ‘Hey,’ Merren said, moving forward and grasping Bianca’s hand. ‘Hold tight and we’ll extricate you just like that.’ Bianca leaned against her, and Merren could feel the tension in her muscles, in her whole body. It was trembling.

  ‘I’m sorry, Merren,’ Bianca whimpered as Merren grasped her ankle and lifted it from between the bars of the fallen chair. Bianca stumbled against her, hands tightening around her, and Merren held onto her until she’d righted herself, and then held on longer.

  Bianca didn’t let go either. Instead, she dipped her head down onto Merren’s shoulder and rested it there.

  ‘I’ve had the most dreadful couple days,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you for coming when you could.’

  ‘Of course,’ Merren said, and she was whispering too, feeling Bianca’s breath warm against her neck. ‘I wish I could have come straight away.’

  Bianca’s head shook against her, her springy hair tickling Merren’s chin. ‘This is fine,’ she said, then looked up, eyes wide and wet. ‘Isn’t it?’

  All the air left Merren’s lungs and she couldn’t breathe. Swallowing, she nodded, looking into Bianca’s eyes, knowing she wasn’t being seen, not clearly, but that didn’t matter because Bianca’s body was pressed up close against her, so close Merren could feel the rise and fall of Bianca’s chest as though it was her own. And the closeness of Bianca’s lips as they whispered just a breath away from hers.

  ‘Kiss me, Merren,’ they said.

  The world behind her eyes went white, and all Merren could feel was her body, and Bianca’s, the way they stood together, arms entwined around each other, hearts beating in tandem, the tickle of Bianca’s curls, and then the touch of her lips.

  The world exploded back into colour and sensation, and she felt everything, but especially the kiss, the heat of Bianca’s skin, the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her breath. She moved a hand and tangled it through Bianca’s hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss, closing her eyes, melting towards Bianca, aware of nothing else, no one else, just the feel of her, the taste of her.

  The desire for her. It welled up inside Merren and left her stunned, thoughtless, her skin prickling, everything humming, a live wire in an electrical storm.

  Bianca pulled back and Merren found herself panting and Bianca smiling, her forehead resting against Merren’s, their chests rising and falling against each other’s, breasts pressed together.

  ‘That helps,’ Bianca said. ‘That helps a lot.’

  Merren couldn’t find any words. She needed another minute. At least. Although mostly, she wanted to kiss her again.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she croaked. ‘It certainly made me feel good.’ She blinked. ‘Wow.’

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that since I first heard your voice.’

  Merren laughed, an amazed, stunned sound. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you standing on your doorstep in bare feet.’

  ‘Bare feet?’ Bianca’s hand crept up over Merren’s shoulder and stroked her neck. ‘It was the bare feet that did it?’ She was smiling wider.

  Merren shrugged, suddenly shy. ‘Well, no, I guess. But they made you look…I don’t know. Sexy, I guess.’

  But Bianca didn’t answer. She’d stiffened, her fingers digging into Merren’s neck.

  ‘What’s that?’ she hissed. ‘Someone’s here.’ She backed away from Merren, crashed into the chair again. ‘Shit! What the fuck!’

  ‘Hey,’ Merren reached for her, led her away from the chair and picked it up, stowed it under the table. ‘It’s all right. It’ll just be the courier.’

  ‘Courier? What are you talking about?’ Bianca had backed up against the bench, hands knotted together and clutched in front of her. ‘I can’t deal with anyone today.’

  Merren shook her head. ‘I picked out some art supplies. It’ll be the courier delivering them.’

  Bianca’s blind face turned toward her. ‘You did what?’

  Merren shifted uncomfortably. ‘I know it might have been a bit presumptuous, but you asked for help, and I’m kinda of a practi
cal bent.’ She winced. ‘I better go give Lex a hand unloading.’

  ‘Unloading? Art supplies?’

  ‘Yeah. Look, you stay here, and I’ll be back, okay? We can talk about it then. Please.’ She looked at Bianca, all the warmth from their kiss draining out of her body, leaving her hollow, shaken.

  But Bianca nodded and didn’t say anything else, so Merren tried to smile and turned around, retracing her steps through the house.

  ‘Hey Lex,’ she said, stepping outside, where her friend stood with their head stuck in the back of a small van. ‘Any trouble?’

  The head popped out and grinned at her. ‘Nope,’ they said. ‘It was all packed up and waiting for me, just like I presume you ordered.’

  ‘Nice hairdo,’ Merren said, forcing herself to relax for the moment. Her hands were shaking. ‘Pale pink looks surprisingly good on you.’

  Lex ran their hand over their close-cropped head. ‘Thanks,’ they said. ‘Thought it had interesting things to say.’ They sniffed and grinned.

  Merren gave a slow nod, looking her genderfluid friend over. They were wearing black cargo pants, black hoodie, black army-style boots, and a rainbow button that said gender is a social construct. ‘Yep. I’d say so.’

  Lex laughed and stuck their head back into their van. ‘I’m already booked in for next week. We’re going blue then. Or maybe purple. I dunno. So many colours, so little time.’ They pulled out a box and staggered towards Merren with it.

  ‘How ‘bout you? Isn’t it about time you did something a little more adventurous with your mop?’

  ‘My mop?’ Merren blinked. ‘This is a very carefully crafted mop, I’ll have you know.’ She patted her short hair and smoothed the longer strands in the front away from her eyes.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lex deposited the box on the doorstep. ‘And I suppose, with all those bigwigs you keep having meetings with, you can’t give ‘em too much shock value.’

  Merren laughed and went over to the van. ‘What else is mine in here?’ she asked.

  ‘These big rolls of whatever they are, and this box.’ Lex leaned in and grabbed up one of the rolls. ‘You want me to put these inside somewhere for you?’

  Merren slid out the box and shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know where they’re going yet.’

  ‘Fair enough. What’s it all for, anyway?’

  ‘Not for me, that’s for sure,’ Merren answered. ‘I can’t paint to save my life. I’m just helping out a friend over the holidays.’ She put the box down with the other and straightened. Looked seriously at Lex, who saw her and held up their hands.

  ‘Hey, no worries, Merren. You know my motto – your business is none of mine.’ They grinned. ‘Unless you want it moved.’ They went back for the last roll, carted it over to Bianca’s door. ‘And even then.’

  ‘I know, Lex. And thanks.’

  ‘No worries. You’ve done me more than one solid over the last few months.’ They wrapped their arms around Merren and squeezed, before letting her go and swinging into the driver’s seat. ‘Don’t forget Mia’s dance class on Thursday. You’re coming, right?’

  Merren grinned. ‘You bet. Haven’t missed one yet.’ She did a surprisingly good little shimmy. ‘Loves me some foxtrot. Anyway, yeah, the plan is to be there.’ She turned towards the door and lifted a hand in a wave. ‘Catch you later, Lex.’

  The van tooted, then backed up and ran down the driveway. Merren looked down at the boxes of gear.

  ‘Are you really learning to do the foxtrot?’

  She swivelled around to see Bianca peering sideways around the door at the rolls and boxes. Merren reached out and grazed her fingers against Bianca’s bare arm.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘It’s a hell of a lot of fun. A group of us do it together.’

  But while Bianca was nodding, her attention was obviously elsewhere. On the boxes. ‘What’s in them?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ Merren said. ‘Where do you want them? It’s time to get you set up in your new studio space.’ She hefted one of the boxes. ‘You’ve already picked a room, right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Bianca put out a hand and placed it on top of the box, as though she’d be able to feel what its contents were through the cardboard. Merren saw her swallow, then lift her face to Merren’s and try on a smile. ‘It’s upstairs.’

  ‘Lead the way, then,’ Merren said.

  A pause, and Bianca pressed her hand to her throat. ‘I’m a little nervous,’ she said, and tittered a laugh to prove it. ‘This is going to work out, right?’ Then she puffed out a breath of air and rolled her eyes. ‘This is so hard. I am not normally such a marshmallow. I don’t usually flip-flop all over the place like this, I promise.’

  ‘I think you’re allowed to at the moment,’ Merren answered. ‘Considering what you’re going through.’

  ‘Going through stuff is so overrated,’ Bianca said on a sigh, turning for the stairs. Merren followed her.

  ‘It does seem to be the human condition, though,’ Merren said sadly, twisting the box to the side so she could see her feet up the stairs. The box was heavy. How much stuff had she actually bought?

  Bianca walked down the hallway, past several doors until she reached one on the south side of the house, its sturdy door closed. Merren watched her grasp the handle and hesitate.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she asked, when they’d stood there a long moment.

  Bianca turned her face towards Merren and nodded, tried on a game smile. ‘I don’t know why I’m going to tell you this, but this room was going to be the nursery, back when Bess was still alive.’

  ‘The nursery?’

  ‘We weren’t pregnant yet, or anything. We’d just decided it was the next thing we wanted. Bess was getting it ready.’ She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. ‘She painted the walls white, ready for another colour to go over it, but that never happened.’

  Merren stepped into the room behind her, feeling the desire to put the box down and wrap her arms around Bianca. She was a hugger. She couldn’t help it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  Bianca shrugged, sighed. ‘So am I.’

  They stood in the middle of the room, both of them looking around at the large, bare space. There was no carpet, no furnishings.

  ‘It will make a great studio,’ Merren said softly.

  Bianca was rubbing her arms as if she was cold. ‘Yes, I guess it will.’ She gestured at the room. ‘Will you bring the things up? I’m just going to go get a shirt to put on.’ She blinked. ‘It’s cooler on this side of the house.’

  Merren nodded, then realised again that Bianca wouldn’t be able to see that. ‘Okay,’ she said instead, and waited while Bianca left the room and disappeared out of sight into parts of the house Merren hadn’t seen.

  She put the box down on the bare floor and looked around, imagining it as a nursery. It would have been beautiful. She wondered what colours the walls had been going to be. She wondered what Bess had been like.

  And then she wondered why tragedy so often struck the same person more than once. Her mother would have shaken her head at the question, said, as she always did, that all things lead to wisdom for those willing to learn.

  Swallowing, she wondered if that included summer flings with beautiful artists sixteen years older than herself. Her mother hadn’t seemed to think so with that one.

  Shaking herself, Merren took a deep breath and went downstairs for the next box.

  It took her three trips to bring the rest of the things upstairs, and on the last trip, she found Bianca sitting on the floor tugging one of the boxes open. Her face was uncertain, touchingly hopeful.

  ‘This is a bit like Christmas,’ she said, turning to smile at Merren. She was brave too, Merren decided.

  ‘And only a few weeks early,’ Merren agreed. ‘Here, I’ll get this,’ she said, peeling her keyring out of her pants pocket and unfolding the little blade from the Leatherman tool. She slid it under the flap and
cut the tape. The box ends sprang open.

  ‘You’re going to need your easel, I guess,’ she said, watching Bianca dip her hands into the box. ‘And a table for the paints and everything.’

  ‘The table in my studio folds up,’ Bianca said, pulling out the first item and turning it over in her hands, looking sideways at it to try to see it. ‘We can just clear it off and bring it up here.’ She blinked. ‘Or you can, if you would.’

  ‘Of course.’ Merren stood up. ‘I’ll go do that right now, and then we can unpack this stuff properly and get you all set up.’

  Bianca nodded, obviously distracted by the box in her hand. ‘We’ll need the lights from there too.’ She held up the box for Merren to see. ‘What’s in here? It smells like oil paints.’ Her face had grown drawn, tense.

  Merren squatted back down, taking the box from Bianca’s hands. It was long, heavy. She pried the lid from it and laid the box on the floor.

  ‘They’re oil sticks,’ she said. ‘It’s paint in a stick form.’ She read from the box. ‘Made from pure concentrated pigment, the finest safflower oil, and high-quality mineral wax.’

  Leaning back, she nodded, picking one up and putting it in Bianca’s hand. ‘You can use them like pastels, in the way that they’re sticks.’

  Bianca gripped the one in her hand, ran her fingers over the others in the box. ‘There are quite a few of them,’ she said.

  ‘I got every colour,’ Merren confessed. ‘And they come in two sizes, so I got both. Big ones for fill work, I suppose, and smaller for detail?’

  She asked it as a question, and Bianca nodded.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, standing back up. ‘I’ll go get the table and lights, and then we’ll unpack everything.’