Page 55 of Pictures in Blue
Etsy Order Confirmation for: $150.00
Subject: Mia
Message:Hello, I absolutely love your shop and your work. I found you through an Instagram ad and knew I had to contact you. We lost our husky malamute suddenly a few weeks ago. She had a mass on her spleen and it ruptured. We didn’t know she had it and we were taken by surprise by her passing. I’d love to have a carving of her to have in our home. My husband and I have had her since she was two years old and she has been such a permanent fixture in our lives. She lived a long life and having a piece of her to see every day would make it easier. I have pictures attached as requested so you can see her profile. If there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask.
Marie
Fuck. Cancer. The word looms above me, big and haunting. A whisper of the past tickling my skin, reminding me of the way it felt when Sarah first told us of her diagnosis years ago.
Unfortunately, a lot of the carvings I do are for dogs that have died because of cancer, and no matter how many times I read those words, it never gets any easier. I open the pictures and a fluffy white dog with striking blue eyes fills the screen. Her mouth is open, tongue hanging out and a soccer ball sitting in front of her. I smile and hope the end wasn’t too painful for her.
I look through the other orders, most of them similar to the ones before. A great dane passing from old age, a pug close to the end, a young bulldog the owner just wanted a carving of for no other reason than to immortalize their best friend.
I try to think of ideas for each dog, but my mind keeps seeing the white ball of fluff, pure happiness shining behind her blue eyes. My hands itch to get started and the ideas circulate through my head on how to make the resemblance perfect for the owners and for Mia. Fluffier dogs are the hardest to get right, but I like a challenge. I start by sorting through the logs I cut earlier in the week when I tried and failed to get Avery out of my head after our initial meeting at Fran’s. The cuts weren’t all perfectly straight, so I sort through them until I find a log I think will suffice.
I secure it on the lathe and grab my tools when my phone pings with a text notification. I had forgotten I texted Avery a bit ago before I looked through my orders.
Sunshine
Okaaaayy. Can I come get it?
If you want.
Sunshine
Well, I have nothing else to do besides the town meeting later so do you have time for me to come get it now?
The town meeting? Why would she be going to that? It’s only for people who live here and while she’s obviously here temporarily, why would she be interested in something that’s really just a cover for Tom, the town magistrate, to complain to an audience forced to listen? I’ve been attending for years and no matter what it is, he will always bring up an issue at the monthly town meeting and complain about it so the whole town is made aware of it. And more often than not the issue won’t go anywhere past his complaints, but there is the rare occasion where actual town issues come up that need a solution. But very rarely do they include someone from out of town.
I ignore Avery’s message for now and focus on my work. Pulling my hair in a tight knot, I cover my eyes with my safety glasses and put on my work gloves. I turn it on, the wood slowly picking up speed. Sawdust flies as I start molding the shape I want, slowly making it smaller and smaller until it resembles what I have in my head. By the time I finish making the basic shape, an hour has gone by and I remember I never responded to Avery. After some debate, I decide to deal with it later. The itch to continue making progress on this carving needs to be answered first.
The dogs perk their heads up at my movement as I start to take the piece of wood off the lathe and move to the next step of my process. They like to keep me company while I work, cuddling together a distance far enough away that the sawdust won’t land on their fur. The noise never seems to bother them and more often than not, they use it as a time to rest together.
I rearrange the tools on my table and grab the knife I need to start cutting away the bigger pieces of wood to shape out Mia. The moment I sit down to carve, however, my phone buzzes a few inches away, the screen lighting up with a text notification. I see Avery‘s name before I pull up our text conversation.
Sunshine
I gave you an hour. I’m on my way.
I roll my eyes at the thought of her expecting me to be immediately available when she texted. I try not to be too attached to my phone, especially when I have work to do. I never really even bring my phone with me into the workshop, but I forgot to leave it in the house earlier and didn’t feel like taking it back inside. Now, I’m wishing I had.
I’ll never understand people expecting others to be constantly available and ready to answer a phone call or a text at the drop of a hat. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the greatest communicator when it comes to technology and I really don’t want to be. It’s just not who I am. I start typing out a snarky response, but then hit the backspace button.
I think about how important my work is to me and wonder if Avery feels the same when it comes to her photography. When I looked at the camera equipment that she left in the bag earlier, it didn’t look like some run-of-the-mill camera. It looked professional. Like something you would expect a professional photographer to have. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I type out a less grumpy text.
Sorry. Working. You can come by whenever. Or I can bring it to the town meeting later for you.
This feels far too personal after our agreement to stay away from each other this morning. Was that only this morning? It feels like it was days ago. The ache in my chest hasn’t lightened since this morning and the idea of seeing her here makes it loosen. Just a bit.
My heart wars with my brain when I imagine her sitting next to the dogs, their heads and bodies snug next to her watching me work, her camera propped on her drawn up knees as she cycles through pictures she’s taken from the day. She changes the settings to adjust to the lighting in my workshop to take pictures of me and instead of feeling embarrassed or closed off as is my specialty, the idea of sharing that part of me feels…comfortable. Something about it strikes a chord in me, creating a melody I can’t stop listening to.
I pick up my phone and type out a text to tell her to just come here and we can walk to the town meeting together when a response from her shows up under my last text.
Sunshine
I’m grabbing some dinner now, so I’ll meet you at the meeting to grab it.
Before I can talk myself out of it or come up with another stupid excuse, I type out a text and send it.
