Humidity soaks into every crevice of Thea's cassock and her hair crinkles into frizz. Mounds of unformed clay line both sides of the entrance hallway, like misshapen golems waiting for orders. Sweat slicks her palm making it hard to keep steady on her cane.
The humidity disappears past the threshold of the main room and the air carries the smell of burning cedar alongside the ever present assortment of sin-related berries. Tables upon tables spread across the workshop with pottery in varying stages of finished sitting atop. All leading to a hulking beast, a shadow; blocking out the sun blazing through the expanse of window's behind it.
Warmth fills Thea's chest. She smiles and throws up a hand. "Frank!"
The beast glances around, then bares a human grin between two rosy cheeks. "Thea!"
Frank stands up from a spinning pottery wheel and strides toward her; his arms spread; waist-length salt-and-pepper braids bouncing behind him. Not some shadow monster. Just a big, beer-bellied guy.
Thea gestures to her clothes. "Mind taking care of this? The shop's entrance is torture, I'd swear I'm carrying an few extra pounds now."
"Sorry about that. I'd have cleared it if I knew —" His eyes widen at her cane and his stride falters. "What happened?"
Thea taps her hip with the top of the cane's handle. "Tiny accident with the motorcycle, just like you said would happen."
"I didn't want to assume... Can't believe I ever set foot on one of those death traps."
"Don't call it a death trap. Now, damp clothes?"
Frank wraps his arms around Thea and squeezes. "Of course, of course." At his touch, the weight of damp clothes fall away like he cut a rope dangling a sand bag from her shoulders.
Warmth spreads from her chest and into her extremities. She squeezes back, her unused arm stretching upwards to avoid an accidental butt touch. "Thanks, big man. Still wish I could do that."
He holds her by the shoulders at arms length. "Anytime. Are you doing okay?"
Shame turns Thea's stomach. "Yeah, I'm doing okay. I just wanted a sounding board for some of my options really... To talk through some next steps."
"Money trouble? It can't be easy with the bills and that injury. You can always come back here, I know Brother Dale would love—"
Shame turns to a flash fire of anger. Thea pushes away. "I'm not you, Frank. Please keep your born-again spirituality to yourself. If I come back it'll be my choice, that's it."
He lowers his hands, palms out. "Okay, okay. I won't bring it up again. Promise."
Anger cools back to the stomach-turning shame. "Sorry... and thanks."
"Don't apologize, I overstepped." He tilts his head to a rickety table with a few chairs near a kiln. "How about we sit?"
Pain in her knees flare to the front of her mind and she beelines to the table in a half-jog, half-limp. She calls back over her shoulder. "I was waiting for the invite."
Frank follows behind and pulls a chair out for her, then they both sit down. He rests an arm on the table and taps his fingertips on the surface. "So what do you need to bounce off me?"
Nausea and shame surge; Thea balances her cane across her lap and breathes. "Okay. My motorcycle won't be fixed for a while yet and I need to find some jobs until it's working again."
He doesn't need to how bad it is.
He nods. "Uh-huh."
"I've got a few ideas: I could tutor, school is in full swing so there's got to be parents looking for someone. Midterms are close, right? Or I could officiate weddings again. Never a bad time for that, right?"
He waits for more words to come. None do. Then he brings his eyebrows together. "Do you want me answer to that? Or is it rhetorical?"
She nods. "Yeah."
He scratches a clay-stained hand over his head and lets out a breath. "Shew, let me think..." He rests the hand back on the table. "There have been a good number of wedding couples coming in asking about officiants if I remember right. They're turning them away since you left, so that might work."
Inspiration strikes her mind like lightening: she tilts an ear his way and grins. "Oh, yeah? They turning people away for anything else?"
Humidity soaks into every crevice of Thea's cassock and her hair crinkles into frizz. Mounds of unformed clay line both sides of the entrance hallway, like misshapen golems waiting for orders. Sweat slicks her palm making it hard to keep steady on her cane.
The humidity disappears past the threshold of the main room and the air carries the smell of burning cedar alongside the ever present assortment of sin-related berries. Tables upon tables spread across the workshop with pottery in varying stages of finished sitting atop. All leading to a hulking beast, a shadow; blocking out the sun blazing through the expanse of window's behind it.
Warmth fills Thea's chest. She smiles and throws up a hand. "Frank!"
The beast glances around, then bares a human grin between two rosy cheeks. "Thea!"
Frank stands up from a spinning pottery wheel and strides toward her; his arms spread; waist-length salt-and-pepper braids bouncing behind him. Not some shadow monster. Just a big, beer-bellied guy.
Thea gestures to her clothes. "Mind taking care of this? The shop's entrance is torture, I'd swear I'm carrying an few extra pounds now."
"Sorry about that. I'd have cleared it if I knew —" His eyes widen at her cane and his stride falters. "What happened?"
Thea taps her hip with the top of the cane's handle. "Tiny accident with the motorcycle, just like you said would happen."
"I didn't want to assume... Can't believe I ever set foot on one of those death traps."
"Don't call it a death trap. Now, damp clothes?"
Frank wraps his arms around Thea and squeezes. "Of course, of course." At his touch, the weight of damp clothes fall away like he cut a rope dangling a sand bag from her shoulders.
Warmth spreads from her chest and into her extremities. She squeezes back, her unused arm stretching upwards to avoid an accidental butt touch. "Thanks, big man. Still wish I could do that."
He holds her by the shoulders at arms length. "Anytime. Are you doing okay?"
Shame turns Thea's stomach. "Yeah, I'm doing okay. I just wanted a sounding board for some of my options really... To talk through some next steps."
"Money trouble? It can't be easy with the bills and that injury. You can always come back here, I know Brother Dale would love—"
Shame turns to a flash fire of anger. Thea pushes away. "I'm not you, Frank. Please keep your born-again spirituality to yourself. If I come back it'll be my choice, that's it."
He lowers his hands, palms out. "Okay, okay. I won't bring it up again. Promise."
Anger cools back to the stomach-turning shame. "Sorry... and thanks."
"Don't apologize, I overstepped." He tilts his head to a rickety table with a few chairs near a kiln. "How about we sit?"
Pain in her knees flare to the front of her mind and she beelines to the table in a half-jog, half-limp. She calls back over her shoulder. "I was waiting for the invite."
Frank follows behind and pulls a chair out for her, then they both sit down. He rests an arm on the table and taps his fingertips on the surface. "So what do you need to bounce off me?"
Nausea and shame surge; Thea balances her cane across her lap and breathes. "Okay. My motorcycle won't be fixed for a while yet and I need to find some jobs until it's working again."
He doesn't need to how bad it is.
He nods. "Uh-huh."
"I've got a few ideas: I could tutor, school is in full swing so there's got to be parents looking for someone. Midterms are close, right? Or I could officiate weddings again. Never a bad time for that, right?"
He waits for more words to come. None do. Then he brings his eyebrows together. "Do you want me answer to that? Or is it rhetorical?"
She nods. "Yeah."
He scratches a clay-stained hand over his head and lets out a breath. "Shew, let me think..." He rests the hand back on the table. "There have been a good number of wedding couples coming in asking about officiants if I remember right. They're turning them away since you left, so that might work."
Inspiration strikes her mind like lightening: she tilts an ear his way and grins. "Oh, yeah? They turning people away for anything else?"
