stroking fur and scales with appreciative fingers, his breath coming more quickly.
“Warm,” he said. “The textures are so lifelike — I almost expect a heartbeat.” He reached the end of the line of statues and shook his head. “You make it difficult to choose, Ms. Gorgriou.”
I opened half-lidded eyes. Sunlight makes me sleepy. “Oh?”
“There isn’t anything here I don’t like.” And he smiled.
I am a champion body language reader. But neither his body nor his voice told me what he meant by that. Did he want to buy all of the statues, or was he just trying to charm me? One glance at his eyes would settle my curiosity, but human statues only draw a good price if they are nude.
That thought brought blood to my cheeks and stirred up feelings I thought long gone. I shrugged and took a deep breath.
“You may take a statue for free — for the help you’ve given Jenny.” And then you can leave and take that damned smile with you before I start thinking of deals we’ll both regret, I added silently.
“Thank you, but these are worth paying for.”
“And also worth giving. Please, take one — any one, except the hawk.” The snakes shifted again although there was no breeze. I didn’t care if he noticed.
He bent, scooped up a statue, his fingers restless over its surface. “I’d love to see any new statues you may have in the next couple weeks.”
“Fine.” I held the door open with my arm and stared straight ahead at the forest that borders my backyard. “Thank you for coming by.” I looked over his head as he moved past me.
He took a breath, but I continued, “And thank you again for helping Jenny. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
The monster is tired now.
Silence, then the fall of footsteps through my house and finally, the thump as the front door closed.
I stood in the sun, cold and oddly vulnerable. The snakes rose, weaving in the pale sunlight, tongues tasting the air. I thought of ancient worlds and ancient deals. When I finally did come back to the present, it was nearly dusk. I sighed, and realized I hadn’t seen which statue Jason took.
I scanned the grass. The statues stared at me with glassy, unsettling eyes. Raccoon, turtle, fox, were all accounted for. Only one tiny statue I had tucked by the foot of the deer was missing — a thin, coiled snake.
I drew a shaky breath and walked back to my house. Gentle tongues flicked over my cheeks, as surprised as I at the tears that were there.
Two weeks slipped by beneath Seattle’s brittle rains. Jenny came with groceries and new books. We didn’t talk much, having nothing new to say. I gave her the last of my statues except the hawk, to take into the grocery store and sell for half their summer price.
She was loading the statues when I heard voices outside the door. I pulled back the blinds and peered out.
Jason stood in the bed of Jenny’s rusted white Ford, his back toward me. I watched, caught between fascination and envy as blond-haired, farm-fresh Jenny showed him the statues. He touched each one, tipped them to better catch the light, a slight frown on his lips, then, to my surprise, he handed Jenny a wad of folded bills.
She grinned and after a few words and gestures, they hopped out of the truck bed and got into the cab. The Ford growled and rumbled out of view.
Suddenly, I wondered about Jason’s motives. Was he really just a curious neighbor, or was he from some obscure environmentalist group? Were there tests that would reveal what my statues really were? I had once dropped a stone squirrel and found its tiny skeletal structure scattered in the dust. But if Jason dropped a statue and found the bones, would he believe I was so thorough an artist that I would create a complete skeletal structure? Perhaps, but what would I tell him about the stone lungs and stone hearts?
I paced the room, snakes writhing. The last thing I needed was a bunch of tree-huggers picketing my front lawn.
I could go to him and
“Warm,” he said. “The textures are so lifelike — I almost expect a heartbeat.” He reached the end of the line of statues and shook his head. “You make it difficult to choose, Ms. Gorgriou.”
I opened half-lidded eyes. Sunlight makes me sleepy. “Oh?”
“There isn’t anything here I don’t like.” And he smiled.
I am a champion body language reader. But neither his body nor his voice told me what he meant by that. Did he want to buy all of the statues, or was he just trying to charm me? One glance at his eyes would settle my curiosity, but human statues only draw a good price if they are nude.
That thought brought blood to my cheeks and stirred up feelings I thought long gone. I shrugged and took a deep breath.
“You may take a statue for free — for the help you’ve given Jenny.” And then you can leave and take that damned smile with you before I start thinking of deals we’ll both regret, I added silently.
“Thank you, but these are worth paying for.”
“And also worth giving. Please, take one — any one, except the hawk.” The snakes shifted again although there was no breeze. I didn’t care if he noticed.
He bent, scooped up a statue, his fingers restless over its surface. “I’d love to see any new statues you may have in the next couple weeks.”
“Fine.” I held the door open with my arm and stared straight ahead at the forest that borders my backyard. “Thank you for coming by.” I looked over his head as he moved past me.
He took a breath, but I continued, “And thank you again for helping Jenny. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
The monster is tired now.
Silence, then the fall of footsteps through my house and finally, the thump as the front door closed.
I stood in the sun, cold and oddly vulnerable. The snakes rose, weaving in the pale sunlight, tongues tasting the air. I thought of ancient worlds and ancient deals. When I finally did come back to the present, it was nearly dusk. I sighed, and realized I hadn’t seen which statue Jason took.
I scanned the grass. The statues stared at me with glassy, unsettling eyes. Raccoon, turtle, fox, were all accounted for. Only one tiny statue I had tucked by the foot of the deer was missing — a thin, coiled snake.
I drew a shaky breath and walked back to my house. Gentle tongues flicked over my cheeks, as surprised as I at the tears that were there.
Two weeks slipped by beneath Seattle’s brittle rains. Jenny came with groceries and new books. We didn’t talk much, having nothing new to say. I gave her the last of my statues except the hawk, to take into the grocery store and sell for half their summer price.
She was loading the statues when I heard voices outside the door. I pulled back the blinds and peered out.
Jason stood in the bed of Jenny’s rusted white Ford, his back toward me. I watched, caught between fascination and envy as blond-haired, farm-fresh Jenny showed him the statues. He touched each one, tipped them to better catch the light, a slight frown on his lips, then, to my surprise, he handed Jenny a wad of folded bills.
She grinned and after a few words and gestures, they hopped out of the truck bed and got into the cab. The Ford growled and rumbled out of view.
Suddenly, I wondered about Jason’s motives. Was he really just a curious neighbor, or was he from some obscure environmentalist group? Were there tests that would reveal what my statues really were? I had once dropped a stone squirrel and found its tiny skeletal structure scattered in the dust. But if Jason dropped a statue and found the bones, would he believe I was so thorough an artist that I would create a complete skeletal structure? Perhaps, but what would I tell him about the stone lungs and stone hearts?
I paced the room, snakes writhing. The last thing I needed was a bunch of tree-huggers picketing my front lawn.
I could go to him and
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