Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down (32 page)

“I dunno… I
just… ”  her frown deepened, the
‘what ifs’
suddenly real.  “I guess I
would have expected it, been a bit more prepared... known what to do...”  Her
voice trailed off.

“Exactly,” he
said wearily.  “You would’ve felt obliged somehow. If I told you, you’d see her
again... you’d feel like you had to.  If I told you that she was in your cup
and you didn’t talk to her... then you’d expect that instead.” 

Her father
sighed, drumming his fingers on the table.  Ava looked over at Cole.  He
smiled, and she wondered if this was how he’d felt when all of his dark history
was being revealed in front of her.

He squeezed her
fingers again.
 I. Love. You.

“I needed you to
make that decision for yourself, Ava.” Oliver said.  “It was the choice that
was important, that it was yours.  Sorry, Kiddo, I just didn’t feel I could
tell you without… affecting it.”

That of course,
made perfect sense.

“Thanks.”

He winked,
steepling his hands on the table. 

“I knew it’d
work out – I saw it – but you needed to make your own decision.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

The three of
them – Cole, Ava and Oliver – sat together, talking in the dim apartment.  It
was past two in the morning, but Oliver, still on Greenwich mean time, was wide
awake.   At some point, the idea of a teacup reading had come up, and Cole was
surprised when he’d found himself agreeing to have his read.

“Yeah,” he said,
grinning at Ava,  “I’d like that, actually.”

Oliver smothered
a smile under his hand.  He stood, going to the cupboard and laying them out on
the table.  They were the same three cups from before, with the curved bottom
and the faded pattern of leaves.  Oliver measured out one quarter teaspoon of
Darjeeling, watching the dry leaves drop to the bottom, then pouring the boiling
water on top.  He settled in, waiting for them to steep.

This time, Cole
enjoyed sitting and sipping the black tea, listening as Oliver and Ava talked
about the multi-print project.  She’d saved the last, tenth, zinc plate – plus
one of the prints from it –  for her father to keep, and he was planning on
framing the plate itself, rather than the actual print.  The variegated silver
image was visible only through the play of light on its surface disappearing
without it.  Cole couldn’t explain why, but it somehow made sense that Ava’s
father would want the print’s source, rather than the print itself.

“The word
intaglio is Italian, you know,” Oliver explained. “It’s from the verb
‘intagliare’
which means to cut into... to scar...”

Cole leaned onto
his elbows, listening to Ava’s father talk.  He seemed to have an anecdote for
everything, as if his whole life had been categorized into a million little
moments that appeared in story-form when they were needed.  Oliver loved the
idea of etching, the echoes of previous images sneaking through at random
moments, never fully obscured.  It was almost with disappointment that Cole
realized that his tea was gone and the reading would begin.

Oliver turned on
a jazz record in the living room before wandering outside to the fire escape
for one last cigarette.  Ava sat next to Cole, smirking.

“You don’t have
to do this, you know.”

Cole slid
closer.

“I’m not worried
about it anymore,” he said with a shrug.  “Pretty sure I know all the worst
parts about my life.  Might be nice to get a foot up on some of the good
things.”

She grinned,
leaned in to kiss him.  A few minutes later, Oliver returned, sitting down and
rolling up his sleeves.

“Let me hold
your hands for a moment,” Oliver said, reaching across the table to Cole.  “Nothing
weird,” he said with a chuckle.  “I just need to connect to you somehow.  Right
now I only know you through Ava.  I need to be able to read you, not her.”

Cole nodded,
placing his hands against Oliver’s palms.  He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it,
but there was something there.  It wasn’t the same as when he’d shaken Ava’s
hand for the first time, but he could sense a faint buzz, a vibration.  Ollie’s
fingers were warm, and he closed his eyes, brows pulled together in
concentration.

Ten seconds passed,
then twenty... 

“Alright,”
Oliver said, suddenly releasing Cole’s palms, and sitting up straight, “got
it.”

Cole waited
uncertainly.

“Make a wish,”
Oliver said, gesturing to the upturned cup, “and turn it clockwise three
times.”

Cole closed his eyes. 
He knew what he wanted and though he was sure that he was close to getting it,
he wouldn’t mind having the assurance on this one.  He turned the cup once,
twice, a third time.  He opened his eyes to find Ava and her father watching
him.

“Are you ready?”
Oliver asked, voice serious.  “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Cole grinned,
reaching for Ava’s hand.

“Nah, I’m good. 
Let’s get started.”

Oliver nodded
and picked up the cup, lifting it near his face, a knowing smile beginning to
tug at his mouth.  His eyes jumped from Cole to Ava and then back again.  He
cleared his throat.  Cole could see him trying not to smile.

“You’ve got your
wish,” he said dryly. 

Cole felt Ava’s
fingers tighten on his.  She’d seen the reaction, too.  For a moment, Oliver
opened his mouth, seeming like he was going to say something about it, but then
he shook his head and closed his mouth again.  Instead, he held the cup in his
palm and squinted into its base.

“Alright then,
Cole, let’s see what’s going on here,” he said, voice dropping.  “Ah yes, okay
now… well, the bottom of your cup is a bit muddy.  Lots of things going on,
things that aren’t really clear.  Hmmm…”

He gestured as
he spoke, guiding Cole’s attention to the leaves.  Sure enough, Cole could make
out the dark flotsam in the bottom, bits and pieces of broken leaves smeared
together. 

“Is that bad?”
Cole asked.  His fingers had tensed around Ava’s but he forced them to relax.

Oliver chuckled,
glancing back up at him.

“Well, I mean,
that isn’t good, but I’d say it’s all going on right now... so you’ll be able
to answer the question for yourself.  Is it that bad?” he asked, twisting
Cole’s words back around.

Cole blushed,
not answering, and Oliver’s attention moved back to the cup. 

“Whatever is
going on, it doesn’t have to do with Ava.  Don’t worry about that.  You two are
good… I can see that too.  So I’m guessing this is either school issues or
other stuff.”

Cole released
his breath, repeating the words.

“It’s other
stuff.  Stuff with my fa—”

Oliver stopped
him with a raised palm.

“Don’t help,
alright?”  he said with a chuckle.  “Okay… so there is a time when things are
muddy… messy… just really busy.  That’s all going on right about now – whatever
it is – and it seems like it’s all tied together somehow.  I can’t tell how,
but it is…” 

He caught Cole’s
eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s gonna be
fine,” he said firmly.  “Don’t worry about it, Cole.  You’re already doing the
work to fix it; it’s underway.  There’s someone else there too – an older man,
I think  – maybe your dad?  He’s got a weight on his shoulders.  See this?  The
image I’m getting is a really heavy pack.  Too heavy for one person to carry.” 

Cole peered into
the cup, and perhaps it was his imagination, but he almost thought he could see
it. 

“It’s all of
these things pressing down,” Oliver continued.  “You’re helping him to get rid
of them, helping him with the burden… the two of you working together.”  Oliver
smiled.  “It’s a good thing.”

Cole nodded,
remembering the last few sessions with Marta and his father.  They hadn’t been
fun, but he and Frank were changing the way they related to one another.  Next
to him, Ava smiled and Oliver’s words resumed.

“... so after
that, you’ve got a time when you’re working closely with someone.”  He turned
the cup around so that Cole could see down into the interior, pointing with the
tip of his finger to a smear of leaves.  “See this part here?  It’s a woman. 
Her hair’s in a ponytail.”  He smirked at Ava for a moment, and then back to Cole. 
“She’s standing next to you.  You’re busy for this next part of the cup, I’d
say getting ready for school or planning something.  All these different
elements coming together, but she’s right there beside you, helping you out... 
and… and…”

He abruptly
frowned, his face dropping down almost to the rim.  He was scowling.  Cole’s
chest tightened in dismay.  Oliver had definitely seen something.  When he
looked back up, his expression had changed; light humour gone.  He glared at
Ava.

“Were you going
to tell me about the motorbike at some point?” he asked, voice sharp.  The
‘protective father’ rather than ‘easy-going dad.’  Cole held in the urge to
laugh at the resemblance to an outraged Chim.

“I, um… yeah,
Dad, I was.  I just hadn’t had a chance,” Ava stammered.  “Sorry!  I just know
how you feel about bikes and I figured you’d worry about me.”

“Damn right,”
her father muttered.

Oliver’s lips
pursed together in annoyance.  The seconds ticked by in silence.  Cole felt a
nervous twinge. 

“Well, you’re
both adults,” Oliver finally said with a dismayed sigh.  “God help me, kid, but
I’m gonna go grey over this, you know.”

Ava giggled and
nodded to the forgotten cup in her father’s hands.

“Cole’s teacup,
Dad.”

He glanced back
down.

“Yes, well...
first thing,” he said, glancing back up in exasperation, “is that I see both of
you on motorcycles... and you’re taking a trip up the coast, stopping at
various places.  It looks like you have a good time.  You stop at a whole bunch
of resorts and towns... I can see the two of you next to a wharf, lots of big
ships beside you.   Don’t know where that is, but you’ll know it when you see
it.”  He smiled, the tension easing.  “It’ll be a good time… just the two of
you together, enjoying yourself.”

He twisted the
cup closer, reading the leaves that stretched up the side toward the rim. 

Time passing.

“There’ll be
some kind of event…” He chuckled.  “I can see what looks like a hell of a lot
of graffiti.”  He turned the cup to show them.  “So I’d say this is Ava’s
show.  There’s someone there, Cole.  Someone tall and kind of skinny, and
you’re going to go talk to this person... a guy, I’d guess.  It’s a good
thing.  Seems like things are going to settle because of it.”  He winked. 
“There’s a dragon attached to that meeting.”

“A dragon?” Cole
asked.

Oliver nodded,
lowering the cup to the table.

“Yeah...
everything is images for me.  Bits and pieces coming together in pictures.”  He
grinned.  “I see good fortune as dragons, and...” he turned the cup, pointing
at a rippling shape along the edge,  “and that thing there is definitely a
dragon.  Whoever this person is – this tall guy you talk to – it’s a good thing
for you.  Some kind of resolution, and a change for the future...”

Cole frowned,
wondering why he was convinced that this person was Kip Chambers.  It bothered
him; he wanted nothing to do with Kip.

“Anyhow,
whatever it is... something is settled by that meeting, leaving you feeling
better.  And,” Oliver said, nodding, “that all leads into some kind of event
that happens a bit later.  It’ll be important for grad school, or maybe it’s
work…can’t tell, but it’s happening in a gallery.  I think maybe you’re
curating a show for this person.  That stretches up the side of your cup…
important stuff, good fortune, money and opportunities, more dragons…”

Oliver smiled,
leaning in.

“You and a woman
are going on a trip somewhere,” he said, his eyes moving from Ava to Cole,
“This is the same woman with the motorbike, so let’s just call her Ava, shall
we?”

Next to Cole,
Ava giggled again.

“So anyhow, you
and Ava take a trip on a plane… looks like it’s to Japan.” He stopped for a
moment, gesturing to a shape.  “Yup, Japan, that’s what it looks like to me…
and the two of you are together… good things leading off from there.” he said,
eyes twinkling happily.  “Just happy.”

With a sigh,
Oliver placed the cup on the table, running his hands through his hair.

“That’s the end
of the first cup.  So tell me, do you want to go another year forward?  You
want to know more?”

Cole turned to
Ava with a grin.

“Nah.  I know
all I need to know.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

Cole and Ava
were in the living room, the jazz music still faint in the background.  Oliver
had given up on sleep and decided to go into the music studio instead,
determined to get some composition done.  He’d been working endlessly on his
latest piece, and when he got into the flow of writing, he often lost track of
time.