Page 77 of Play With Me

I was feeling heavy—lonely—when I walked into my workspace. Then I saw it.

A beautiful wooden shelving unit stood where my old one had collapsed. I’d already unwrapped and carefully rewrapped Hasan’s gift for me, so I knew this wasn’t from him. The big, sloppy red bow, obviously handmade with frustration, brought tears to my eyes before I could stop them.

I stepped closer.

The wood still smelled like the oil it was finished with and sawdust. My fingers followed the edge of a shelf without thinking—smooth, no splinters, the corners rounded just enough. It didn’t wobble when I pressed on it. It was solid.

This was no standard shelving unit. It was built for ceramics. Space for drying and glaze storage. Implement drawers right where my hands would reach when I was at the wheel. It wasn’t built like fine cabinetry, but fit for purpose as we say.

My throat went tight.

I crouched and opened one of the drawers. A brand had been burned into the drawer box.

“Oh,” I whispered, like the word had been knocked out of me. I ran my fingers over the charred lines of my potter’s mark in the wood.

It was so fucking thoughtful. The most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given me.

Is this what it’s like to be loved?

It felt that way to me. And suddenly, the idea of Will leaving without seeing my truth—however messy—was completely unacceptable. Not after this.

I sat on the stool in front of my wheel. Tested the reach. Hung my apron on a little brass hook he’d installed right where I used to slide the strap over the corner of my old shelf. I wiped tears from my cheeks and sniffed loudly enough for it to echo in the empty studio. But it didn’t feel lonely anymore.

36

Where We Stood

Boston, MA

Louisa

I was feeling emotionally raw when I clocked in for my shift at The Swan Dive. Will hadn’t answered when I called, and Has and I were taking the night train to the city right after my shift. I didn’t want to miss the chance to thank Will in person.

I wrapped my apron around my waist and fluffed my ugly Christmas sweater. The bar sounded loud and boisterous from the room in the back, and I rushed to get my things put away. I hadn’t expected a busy night.

I grabbed a tray of clean glasses and swung around the corner.

“Corner!” Will and I both yelled at the same time as we smashed into each other.

The tray hit my chest and flipped up into my arms. Will acted fast, bracing his knee below it and his arms on either side. He was holding my shoulders, and the glasses were mostly pressed between us. A few were lying broken on the floor.

“Hi,” I grinned at him. My face flushed.

“Hi,” he said with laughing eyes. “Eilidh is going to kill us.” He looked like he was going to call for help.

“Wait, while I have you here…” I said, and Will snorted. He dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, waiting patiently for me to continue. He doesn’t mess around, Jesus. “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, Will. It’s so beautiful and perfect. I love it. I’ll use it every day⁠—”

A glass slipped out and crashed to the floor. I winced. He didn’t even look down.

He was happy. “Good,” he stated simply, but his eyes said, You’re beautiful and perfect. He didn’t take them off me as he called out over his shoulder, “Hey, Mike? Can we get a little help?”

While Mike helped extricate us from our precarious balancing situation, I took in the room and realized I was working Eilidh’s Christmas party. Green lights wound around the posts in the bar, the same ones she puts up for St. Patrick’s Day. I could imagine her saying, “I leave ‘em up from Christmas to St. Paddy’s. You gotta problem?”

When I was finally free, I resisted the urge to run my hands all over Will’s chest to “dust him off”. I gave Mike a quick hug of thanks instead. “What are you doing here on Christmas Eve?” I asked.

“Oh, we all get scheduled to work tonight every year. It’s her way of forcing us to come to her party,” he said, laughing and looking to Will before realizing he was kind of frowning at him. Mike cleared his throat and looked away.

Will forced his face back to baseline. “Yeah. I’m bussing tonight,” he said, throwing a towel over his shoulder. He looked fine as fuck with his sleeves pushed up, even in that ratty apron. I wanted him to do a little twirl. “Mom and the girls will sing later and you’ll have to cheer with me. It’s the rules.” Gah!