Page 19 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
For the sake of self-awareness, she considered two of her ex-girlfriends. June and Vanessa—both born and raised in Pennsylvania—but that wasn’t the extent of the attraction. They exuded kindhearted energy, a love of tending the earth. They worked with their hands and created. Smiled fully and easily, never seeing her as a freak.
Celene rescued her, and with that came no smiles, no warmth. Just tepid to chilly responses; she even used the word ‘odd’ that night.
“She’s not my type, Thalia.”
Starstruck. She’d been captivated by an enigmatic, seasonal friend from a different time. Beauty was fleeting and deceptive.
Skye tugged at the smooth stone, sending relief to Thalia’s eyes. Maybe the labradorite worked its wonders instantly.
“Please accept that as a gift,” Thalia offered in a breezier tone. She raised her hands skyward, out to the displays. “I envision the metal picture frames closer to the entrance. They’re blocked in that corner.”
Respecting her vision, Skye nodded. “They’re more affordable, too. Let’s do some rearranging.”
Skye fetched brighter, eye-catching price tags while Thalia gathered the frames from a cramped shelf.
Balance restored. Now that she’d appraised Celene’s allure with a clear mind and a touch of the supernatural, she could put this cloudiness to rest.
The aromaof skillet cornbread and tomato stew stopped Skye at her private doorway. She melted a little—at knowing those would meet her mouth soon, as well as Luce’s concerted efforts to whip up vegetarian meals. Her grandmother didn’t believe in not learning new tricks, and she never appreciated the idiom of comparing herself to a dog, either.
Skye reached into the collar of her top, spinning the labradorite between her pointer and thumb.
Stay on task.
Rid herself of the cloudiness.
As she divested herself of her clothes for fresh jeans and a pleated blouse that didn’t scream, “I’ve been hauling dirty boxes and dusting behind shelves all day,” her phone buzzed for a social notification.Planting Love with Aisha and Gael,a web series starring Skye’s parents,had a new video out.
Not too long after Skye’s twenty-sixth birthday, Aisha and Gael Florentine hit the road in their fancy yet eco-friendly RV to spread the knowledge of local and urban farming to the rest of the states. It earned them quite a following. Taking that and Luce’s artistic accomplishments into account, following one’s destiny ran through her veins. What that destiny was for Skye, however, was yet to be determined. She paused, dark eyes roving to the secret trap door of her bedroom, before she shook her head and remembered her current course.
Stop being passive. Go talk to Celene.
“I’m heading out,” she said as casually as possible, kissing Luce on the temple. “Won’t be long.”
Luce’s eyebrows had thinned to nothing at this age. It didn’t reduce her expressiveness, the contortion of a face overlayed with bemusement. “Out? Seeing your friends?”
“Friend, kinda.” And Skye attempted something that would put others in the hospital from their elders: she closed the door on their talk, trimming it short.
Heart thundering, she dashed for her bike. It’d been propped on the side of the house, collecting a film of pollen. She used the sleeve of her blouse to pat off the handles. Luce cracked the front door open just in time for Skye to flee.
“Celene, what’s up? Remember me?” Skye rehearsed, slowing her cycle. Once upon a time, she’d pump her legs full speed all the way there, but she worked full shifts, and her thirty-sixth year humbled her as far as energy consumption. She pasted on a customer service smile, trying again. “It’s been years. I still live eight streets away with...with my grandma. Yes, I have a job, I swear.” Skye dropped the smile. “What? Oh yeah, that was me who almost hit your mailbox. A wasp attacked me; I wasn’t staring at you downward dogging.”
She’d gone over enough feasible exchanges just as the double boulder formation edged into view. Wind sifting throughher curls, gagging through someone’s old ride-on lawnmower exhaust—Skye could do this. Her head might drift in the blue of her namesake, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fit in with the rest of the population for a mature, easygoing visit.
A basic sequence: ring the doorbell, say hello, explain her identity, maybe reminisce, rid herself of the negative energy, and ride home for cornbread.
Impressing herself, Skye arced her narrow wheels nimbly onto the Vale driveway, past the parked car. She breathed relief, spotting the ordinary doorbell. Circular, push button, easy. She’d push that button, all right. Push the hell out of?—
“Um, hi?”
Skye skidded her bike to a stop. Instantly, she forgot fucking everything when Celene peered at her from a hammock hanging between an oak and a birch. She slipped a paperback to her side, smoothly tucking her bare feet into chic, tri-color flats on the ground, and Skye met her eyes again so she wouldn’t look like a weirdo staring at a near-stranger’s feet.
“You did mean to come here, right?” Celene asked, still seated. “If not, I can get back to my book.”
“I meant to.” Skye started strong, then she chewed her lip, throwing a glance at the doorbell that lured her into a false sense of security. “Then...”
“Then?” Her highly arched brows ticked upward.
“In your hammock like that,” she explained, letting her mouth take flight, “you were blocked by Boob Mountain. You surprised me, that’s all.”
