Intaglio: The Snake and the Coins (33 page)

The next night,
the three of them ate at Ava’s apartment. 
‘Ava and her father’s
apartment,’
Cole mentally corrected.  He was still feeling a bit
thrown by her father’s arrival.  He liked Oliver; that wasn’t the
issue.  It was that the interaction between Ava and her father left Cole
an outsider more often than not.  As he stood in the hallway holding a
bouquet of Gerber daisies and a bottle of wine, he had that same feeling once
more.

Ava answered the
door wearing jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt.  Silver
earrings  – a late Christmas gift from her father – dangled from her
ears.  She grinned as he stepped inside.

“Thanks, Cole,”
she said, taking his gifts.  “But you didn’t have to.  I mean this is
nice and all.”  They stood at the bottom of the stairs, but she still
leaned in, dropping her voice.  “You’re in, okay?  Stop trying so
hard.  My dad really likes you.”

Cole forced a
smile, wiping his sweaty palms against his pants.

“I’m glad... I
just... I want to do this right.”

Ava chuckled,
putting her hands over his shoulders, the flowers grazing the back of his head.

“Stop worrying
about messing up,” she said, brushing her lips against his.  “Just be
yourself.  That’s enough.  Okay?”

“I’ll try,” he
answered.

The tightness in
his chest eased with the unspoken message: 
‘We’re in this together.
’ 
Cole pulled her closer, letting his body relax into the familiar curves of her
form.  Ava turned her mouth to his ear, voice quiet and only for him.

“Love you,” she
whispered.  “That’s the only thing you need to remember.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

Oliver cooked
the meal.  It was a mish-mash of dishes from different cultures, almost
none of which Cole recognized.  Several were heavily curried, and two were
hand-rolled sushi, but other than that, Cole couldn’t identify the
origins.  It didn’t matter, because they were delicious. The three of them
ate together, laughing and joking as the evening wore on.  The wine Cole
brought was gone by the end of the second course and they switched to sake at
that point.  Another first for him.

Ava and Cole
planned to meet Suzanne and Chim at the Crown and Sceptre to celebrate New
Years at midnight, but dinner and the hours after were devoted to visiting with
Ava’s father.  Again, Cole noticed the genuine respect between them. 
They had an easy familiarity, friends as much as family.  Every so often,
Ava’d jokingly called him “Ollie” and he’d tease her with “Kiddo.”  It was
clear this small family had always been one of love. 

Their
interactions occasionally brought up Cole’s memories of his own parents... in
particular, the lack of connection he felt with his father.  Whenever it
happened, he fell into a quiet lull.  Once, he caught Oliver’s gaze on him
– aware and somehow
knowing he wasn’t there
– and from then on Cole
forced himself to stay in the present.

Oliver and Ava
were easy to be around, and the stories grew longer, the laughter becoming
louder.  Oliver described writing music and his process.  How it was his
darker memories that inspired him as much as his happier ones.  Somehow,
this led to a discussion of artwork and approach, technique and creativity.

“How about you,
Cole?” Oliver asked, “You’re a sculptor.  Do you have any ways of catching
that moment of creation?  Forcing your muse to comply?”

Cole sighed.

“It’s not always
that easy for me... I fight it sometimes.  I can’t seem to stay in flow
like Ava does... ”  He gave a half-hearted smile.  “The last
sculpture I did, I almost gave up on because I kept running into issues with
the stone.  Seams I couldn’t see kept forcing me to change plans.  It
drives me nuts, not being able to follow a plan through.”

Ava smiled to
herself, then glanced at her father.

“It’s me, you
know... in Cole’s sculpture.  You’ll see it at the student show.”

Cole shifted
nervously, remembering the finished piece.  In some ways, it was even less
realistic that Ava’s paintings.

“Sort of,” he
said with a self-conscious laugh.  “I mean, it’s inspired by Ava... but
it’s not Ava exactly.”

“Am I
blue?”  she asked, winking.

Cole choked on a
mouthful of sake, coughing before answering.  He reached out, placing his
hand on top of hers.

“No... it’s just
raw stone, but you can paint it after the show if you want.  Then it’ll
match your painting of me.”

Lost in each
other, the two of them didn't notice Oliver watching.  After a moment,
Ava’s father leaned back, crossing his arms.

“I think
sometimes in artwork or writing or music, you discover something that just
needs
to be created.  It’s not even something that you
want
to
create...  You’re just pulled into it like an instrument.  Like
you’re part of a bigger plan...”

Cole was drawn
into his words.  He very rarely reached that point himself: where things
just flowed without effort.  Watching Ava as she’d painted him, Cole had
become frustratingly aware of just how much
easier
it was for her to
create.

 “Except...”
Ava added, pointing to her father.

Oliver grinned.

“
Except
–
as Ava just reminded me – you’ve always got choice.  You don’t
have to
take a piece of music or artwork in a particular direction, but the harder you
fight it, the worse it is to arrive at your destination.  But there are
always other paths... other doors... other decisions.” 

He sighed,
patting his shirt pocket, and Cole somehow knew that if they were outside, he’d
be lighting a cigarette. 

“Sometimes,” 
Oliver continued,  “I have this mental vision of how a particular piece of
music is going to play out, but when I bring bow to strings, an entirely
different song is waiting there for me in the ‘in between.’  You have to
be open to that...  sort of like getting a hint of it from the future...
like an echo of something that hasn’t happened yet...”

“Like your
teacup readings,” Ava finished quietly.  She had her chin on her hand,
eyes soft and happy.

Cole glanced
from one to the other.  The idea of “flow” he understood... but the idea
of a sculpture already existing in the future made no sense.

“What do you
mean?” he asked, leaning forward.  “A hint from the future... How would that
even work?” 

The older man
placed an empty plate between the two of them.  He took his glass and
poured water until it filled the surface.

“This water is
everything in time,” he began.  “All that’ll ever happen and all that ever
did.  We tend to think of it in sequence,” Oliver explained, drawing his
finger across the plate in a line like a swimmer crossing a pool. 
“Because that’s how we experience things... how we think—”

“But that’s how
it
is,
” Cole interrupted.

Oliver smirked,
and Cole saw Ava reflected in his expression.

“Einstein didn’t
think so... Super string theory would say you’re wrong too.  I say it
really didn’t matter, because we’re all just here to
learn
.”

Cole’s frown
deepened as he stared at the plate,
willing himself to understand.
 

“So where’s the
sculpture that wants to be created?” Cole asked, his eyes on the water. 

Oliver placed
his fingers into his half-empty water glass, letting a bead of liquid hover
over the water-filled plate.

“The sculpture
that
wants
to be created is right over…
here
...” Cole watched as
the heavy drop hit the still water below, ripples spreading out across the rest
of the plate.  “Those ripples,” Oliver added, “are the echoes I was
talking about.  If you can catch onto one, you can follow it back to where
it begins and the closer you get to what
wants
to be created, the easier
it becomes.”

Cole shook his
head in frustration.  Something here bothered him... pushing at his
senses.  Something that went
beyond
artwork and creation.  He
could almost feel it.  Taste it like salt on his tongue.

Hanna’s laughing
face flickered in his mind.

“That makes no
sense,” Cole growled, “because if things in the
future
can affect us...
then the things in the past can, too.”

Oliver nodded, his
finger letting random droplets fall to different areas of the plate.  Some
were at one side, some at the other, the ripples blending together. 

“Everything’s
happening at once... Everything creating ripples that affect and change the
events at different times.   Major events – traumas – echo the
loudest, but
everything
affects the world.   We all have
choice, of course, but there are times that we feel the pull of events... call
it ‘flow,’ call it ‘destiny’... doesn’t really matter.   It's all
just echoes of what
can
or
had
or
could be
...” 
Oliver laughed.  “That’s my take on it.”

There was a long
silence after he finished, and Cole watched the ripples fade away as the water
stilled, the surface smooth once more. 

“Well, I’m going
to grab a few things before we head out,” Ava said, standing up and squeezing
Cole’s shoulder. 

Her hip hit the
table and Cole watched ripples spread across all directions of the plate, his
mind still drawn to the implications.  Cole had a thousand questions. It
didn’t make sense... because it
did
make sense.

In the other
room, the door to Ava’s bedroom clicked shut, but Cole was only distantly
aware.  There was the scrape of another chair, and he saw Ava’s father
standing, a fan of wrinkles on the outside of his smiling eyes.

“I’m gonna grab
a smoke outside,” Oliver said, turning to walk across the living room. 
“C’mon out if you want,” he called over his shoulder.

Cole nodded,
grabbing his coat and following.

Ava stood in her
bedroom, dropping items into her bag.  She knew Cole was in the dining
room with her father; the conversation had gotten weird enough that she was
starting to worry. Cole’s face, as she’d left the room, had been apprehensive
and sceptical. 

‘Fuck it, Dad,’
she thought in frustration,
‘you really had to jump into it with both feet tonight, didn’t you?’
 

Ava Brooks
certainly loved her father, but there were times – like now – that she wished
that he was a little more conservative... like Chim’s parents, for instance.

Grabbing fresh
panties and a t-shirt, Ava scrounged for the travel-toothbrush  in her top
drawer.  She was crashing with Cole at his dorm tonight.  She’d
already told her father that she wouldn’t be home (though by mutual agreement,
he hadn’t asked her where, and she hadn’t offered that information). 
Instead, he’d reminded her to have her cell phone with her, to make sure that
Chim knew where she was staying, and to call him if she needed anything at
all. 
That
part of her father was fantastic.  It was just this
other stuff
– and Cole’s reaction – that troubled her.  Finally
locating her travel brush and a pair of socks, she shoved them with her wallet
into the small backpack slung over her shoulder, heading back to the supper
table.

It was empty.

She glanced into
the rooms, eyebrows rising in concern.  Her anxiety sharpened into the
first hint of panic.  She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Cole her
father liked him. (Oliver had told her when they’d dropped Cole off last
night.)
It was that Cole had looked increasingly dubious as the
conversation had become more.  The whole ‘
echoes from the future’
discussion had left Cole with the same expression he might have if he walked
into an Advanced Biochemistry class on exam day, discovering he’d never
attended a single class.  He looked
that
kind of worried.

Ava was now
dealing with the same feelings.

“Goddamnit!” she
grunted as she shrugged on her leather coat and jogged downstairs.  If
they’d gone outside, it’d be to the fire escape where her father liked to
smoke.    She and her father had had at least a hundred
conversations out there during her teen years.  They had been the types of
conversations – about Ava’s probation, her anger, seeing a counsellor, getting
birth control – that her father couldn't handle without a cigarette in
hand.  She smiled, remembering.  Ava and her father’s relationship
had been forged on those stairs. For the most part, she loved what they
represented.  Tonight was a different situation altogether; Cole was the
one she was concerned about.  Ava’s feet quickened as she headed down the
long hallway, chest tight. 

‘Don’t freak out
on me, Cole,’
her mind begged,
‘he’s harmless – totally harmless!’
 

She wondered
what had convinced Cole to go outside with her father.  What in the world they
could be talking about now...

‘Fuck! 
Fuck!  Fuck!’