Page 94 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Skye erected her back, threw her shoulders into alignment, and began arranging the heavy-duty cardboard Luce set aside for her. “They’re just boxes. I can do this.”
Within minutes, she’d gathered upcycled inserts and corrugated paper-based wrap, not too into styrofoam and its weird little pieces breaking off. She shuffled bare feet around the semi-messy space and laughed. She sounded like her grandma.
“Damn, Luce.” She sighed at the three reliefs on their drying stands. All square, mounted on thin concrete, spiked on the surfaces in elaborately nestled pieces, fanning in erratic anti-patterns. The top piece featured shells, the middle was mirrored glass, and the bottom was mostly porcelain. Some of her most striking work yet.
Skye reached for the shell-covered slab first, then thought against it last minute. The porcelain work in its barbed, angry angles could double as a torture device. It reflected her dream too eerily not to dedicate several minutes to admiring. She secured both hands on either side and moored her feet to tug forward. Heavier than anticipated, it didn’t budge, and if Luce didn’t use rolling carts, Skye would wonder how an eighty-two-year-old woman managed this.
So she braced herself again and pulled harder, realizing her error when the whole shelving followed. The relief she helddislodged too swiftly to make up for it. Skye raced to push it back, but all it did was shake the mirrored slab off, right over her arms. Haphazardly yet ultimately effective, she slipped herself out of the way because glass plus skin equaled lacerations.
Though she screeched all the same when the porcelain relief slammed to the hard flooring with a heart-stopping bang, followed by its mirror counterpart smashing on top of it. Those crashes were terrifying, but from years of her and Luce troubleshooting around accidents, they didn’t fully concern her until she heard the tiniest clinks of shattered bits hitting the floor like rubble.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Fuck, fuck, shit, c’mon,” Skye gasped, tears in the way of her removing the mirrored relief to assess the damage below. Except when she pushed it aside, glass shards unwedged from their precarious positions, leaving a jagged network of unsightly cracks. How many years of bad luck wasthis?
Luce had a good head for securing her art; they were fragile all the same. Skye felt just as fragile as she nudged at about a fifth of the porcelain design, chipped or completely dislodged. “Goddamn it.”
Skye crouched on the floor in a frog-like position, choked up. Dissociation could come easily, imagining Luce’s meltdown or her letting down her granddad posthumously.
And this illustrated why she kept her artist life in the closet. How could she live up to Luce’s standards? Shit, even her parents’ standards? She’d always been a middle-of-the-road type, and this proved it. Another reason Cosmo moved to Michigan: too much pressure to stand out, to be a Florentine.
Skye’s teaspoon of talent could be seen as posturing, as artificial. Try hard. Failing to follow in her family’s talentedfootsteps. She would’ve wished for any interest besides mosaic art; the comparisons would never stop.
“June.” Skye scrabbled to her feet, yanking her phone from her pajama pocket. June could drive over, use her strength to hold the slabs steady, and Skye would approximate the right sealant to cover their tracks.
Yes. That’d work.
She’d call June for help.
Her mind took a tangent, and so did her fingers. To scroll past June’s number, to fix onto her texts instead.
Celene’s name calmed her in the storm of this calamity. Plus, she worked in high-pressure situations; Skye needed some of that confidence.
Skye – 2:44 pm
If I fucked up Luce’s project, who should I call?
Celene’s immediacy came in bouncing dots. For reasons above her, Skye knew she’d made the right decision.
Celene – 2:45 pm
Nobody. You fix it yourself.
I like your stuff better anyway.
Skye turned to make meaningful eye contact with Phish and Swindle squished into the corner of their tank, blowing fish kisses.
June had Luce’s back about her skills; Skye made a fan of her own.
Skye – 2:48 pm
Okay, if my time’s limited, how do I go about it?
Celene – 2:50 pm
Reach out to your coworker friend.
