Making Art

I told you the other day that my friend Lala and I are art-ing our way through the book You Are An Artist and I tackled the second assignment entitled "Imprint."  You were to select an object, cut it, dab it with paint or ink, and smoosh it onto paper.  I went downstairs into the workshop and found some pieces of wood that I cut into shapes, sanded off the edges, and got to work.

The only paints I have are tubes of watercolors so that was what I used.  This is my first attempt.  I thought it was okay but I tried again with the same three colors

and got this.  This one I like better.  To me it looks like water with sailboats, a crowd of people on the beach, and a row of palm trees behind them.  Or it could be rows of shapes in different colors.  Interpret as you like.

 

I was otherwise fairly unproductive today.  I dusted all the flat surfaces in the house.  I took a walk.  I watched the movie "Captain Ron."  I dug around in the desk for my 2021 calendar and found this baby hat that I don't remember making, but it'll go in the charity pile with the others.

I'm still happy with my not-a-Christmas-tree decorations.  I plug it in of an afternoon and smile at the little box of lights on the table by the window.  With Abercrombie Elf perched alongside.

26 December--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Chapter 28

            I kept almost sliding back into the easy relationship with Iggy.  A few times I saw him reach toward me as he passed and then catch himself too.

            By the end of the next week, I realized that the crew was tiptoeing around me and I wondered if they thought that I would take offense at a careless remark.  My tiff with Iggy was affecting the progress of renovation and I didn't have the money to waste on personal conflict.  That evening I told Silas that I would buy the first round of drinks at Johnno's and if they behaved, I'd order conch fritters too.

            "Everyone?" Silas asked.

            I nodded.  "Everyone."

            "Even Uncle Iggy?"

            I took a breath, let it out, and said, "Even Uncle Iggy."

            I watched Silas make the rounds of the crew letting them know that drinks and fritters tonight were on Mrs. Rose.  Iggy's head lifted and he looked at me out of the corner of his eye.  I kept my head down over my sewing but saw a small smile tug at his lips.

            The sun was streaming through the front doors late that afternoon when I gathered up my sewing, folded the fabric and scraps into the tote, tucked the cords and presser foot into the sewing machine case, and got ready to carry it all out to the container to be locked in for the night.

            As was his habit, Edward hurried to help me carry things.  "You need me to haul that heavy machine, Mrs. Rose?" he asked.

            "Oh, thank you, Edward," I said, "I appreciate your help."

            His lips curved in a pleased smile as he lifted the machine's case to take it outside.  I lifted the tote with the fabric and notions to follow him out across the road to the container.  He paused after setting down the sewing machine.  "Mrs. Rose, you mad at Mr. Iggy?"

            I stacked my tote on top of another one beside the sewing machine wondering where this was going.  "Well, yes, I guess I am. He hurt my feelings."

            Edward reached to touch my shoulder.  "He din't mean it, Mrs. Rose. He in love wit you."

            Tears sprung to my eyes and I turned away so Edward didn't see.  "He had a funny way of showing it," I said and walked back toward the Seaview.  Coming toward me like a parade were Silas, Iggy, and the rest of the workers so I blinked the tears away as best I could and kept my gaze on my feet.

            Calvin and his crew were packing their tools in his truck as I passed. Calvin reached out and stopped me as I neared him. "I'll see you down at Johnno's, Rosie.  Save the chair next to you for me."

            I shook off his hand and kept walking.  When I got into the hotel I pulled out the little bag I kept there, ran a comb through my hair, and checked in the mirror to see that I wasn't filthy before walking down the beach to Johnno's.

            My crew had commandeered a table in a corner and hailed me as I walked in as if they hadn't seen me five minutes before.  "We here, Mrs. Rose, we here," Edward called, waving his hand like they weren't right in front of me.

            I smiled and went up to the bar to order some conch fritters and plantain chips for the group and a rum punch for me.

            Johnno leaned across the bar and said, "You need to forgive my brother, Mrs. Rose. He is feeling very sorry for himself."

            I frowned.  "Is this some campaign that Iggy has you all pleading his case? First Edward and now you.  He needs to speak for himself."

            Johnno waved his hands, "No, no, Ignatius has said nothing to me. I just see how sad he is and thought maybe you would forgive him for being a foolish man."

            I picked up my drink.  "I'll think about it," I said and walked to join the crew.

            Calvin had arrived and saved a chair for me next to him so I circled the group and sat down in an empty seat across the table.

            It wasn't until I set my drink on the table that I realized I had sat down right next to Iggy. My hand brushed his arm and I felt the spark I'd felt every time I had touched him.

            Calvin frowned at me from across the table but didn't say anything, he just lifted his drink, drained it, slammed the glass on the table, and left.  We all watched him go.

            Stanley said, "What wrong wit him?"

            No one answered because just then the waitress arrived with a tray of fritters and chips.  We all dug in like we hadn't eaten in days.  Johnno's conch fritters were the best I'd ever eaten and his mango dipping sauce was out of this world.  I resolved to one day weasel the recipe from him.

            I reached for the last fritter in the basket closest to me and met another hand reaching for it.  Iggy's hand was touching mine, his fingers poised over the fritter too.  I watched as his fingers opened toward mine like a flower in a "take it" gesture.

            "Thanks," I said. 

            His warm voice came from close to my ear.  "Maybe we should order more?"  

            I nodded, afraid to look at him, afraid to speak.

            On my other side Silas stood and said, "I think we need more fritters." He stepped away from the table. "Hey, Dad, drop some more fritters for us." He hooked his hand in the back of Edward's shirt and hauled him along to the bar.  I saw him nod at the rest of the crew to get them on their feet and moving too.  In the blink of an eye Iggy and I were alone at the table.

            "I miss you," he said into his lap.

            I drew a deep breath and said, "I miss you too."

            "Do you think you can forgive me?"

            My fingers twisted a paper napkin into shreds.  "I worry that all those island women will lure you away again. I can't have my heart broken, Iggy, it hurts too much."

            He let out a big breath like he'd been holding it. "I do not want any of those island women, Rose.  I want you.  I have been lonely and sad these last weeks.  Can we try again?"

            "I've been lonely and sad too, Iggy.  It feels like I've lost my best friend."

            Edward came back to the table holding the fritters high like a trophy.  "More food," he said, and set the overflowing basket in the center of the table.

            The rest came back to the table carrying fresh drinks for everyone.  The young men stayed only long enough to eat all of the fritters and finish their drinks before they took off for a party they'd heard about in Island Harbour.

            Iggy cleared his throat and stood up, brushing crumbs off his jeans.  "I guess I will get on home."  He paused.  When I didn't respond he said, "Good night, Mrs. Rose.  Thank you for the drinks and food."

            "Good night, Mr. Solomon.  I'll see you at work tomorrow."

            I paid the tab.  Johnno didn't say a word, he just gave me a look.  I shook my head and walked across the road to my room.

Still haven't gone to Goodwill to empty the car so no tosses today.  Writing was hard today.  For some reason the prompt brought up memories that I'd rather not rehash so I ended early.  Tomorrow is another day.

--Barbara