The Potter's Daughter (Literary Series) (24 page)

Abby’s thoughts circled back to
Mitch and the call from the night before.
 
The more she thought about the night the more she ached.
 
Abby realized she had not really eaten
anything and decided she better get something in her stomach.
 
Surely some food would settle her
emotional state.

Abby stopped for a slice at a pizza
joint.
 
Through the window a young
Latino man spun a disc of dough between his hands with his fingers spread open,
his hands coming together and then going apart, again, and again in a fluid
motion.
 
The whole time he spun the
dough he chatted and laughed with a younger squat teen behind the
register.
 
In mid-conversation and
without warning the pizza maker did a twirl with his hands and the dough disc
spun high in the air floating above him only to come down where he caught the
dough again and continued spinning the disc.
 
Abby smiled and paused to watch him do
this three more times before going in.
 
He never blinked or stopped his conversation with his young friend.
 
The dough was merely an extension of the
young man and his actions were automatic, requiring no thought.
 
If she were to try that, Abby thought,
there would be dough spread across the kitchen.
 
The key was that the young man was not
trying so hard.
 
He was just
doing.
 
There was no focus, just
action and if she didn’t over think things, life would still ebb and flow.
 
Abby knew what she needed to do if she
wanted some normalcy back as soon as possible.
 
She needed to get back to work.

* * *
* *

Will had opened every drawer in the
studio searching for the small clay item.
 
He was certain he had seen what he was trying to find behind or under
something in the back or on the side.
 
There were so many small clay items around the shop that his mind easily
played tricks on him when he saw glimpses of objects close in size.
 
Will needed to find this one piece
though, because this one was going to be the model for a new line.
 
When he found the little piece of clay,
the object appeared a little marred yet was recognizable.
 
He took the item from the drawer and
years of stasis then held small piece tight in his hand close to his lips.
 
The tiny piece was something Michael had
created as a boy.
 
More than that,
something the family worked on together.

When Michael was a small boy Will
wanted to teach him how creating something could be magical.
 
Michael’s father did this with a simple
method just as his father taught him.
 
Will set up a play area in a well-lit corner of the studio, not far from
the wheel where he himself often worked, and filled the area with clay.

Michael’s mornings and afternoons
were spent playing with the clay.
 
Music played through the studio and Michael was comfortable in his own
little area.
 
Michael built castles
out of pinecones, thistle, grasses, and twine.
 
Army columns were created from sticks
and clay.
 
He would lump in sand,
gravel, and dirt into the clay for color and texture on the sides of the castle
walls during battles.
 
Nothing was
disallowed.
 
In doing this, Michael
had an easier and easier time making the shapes that had at first challenged
him.
 
The clay mixed with filler
began to be cumbersome and slow compared to the clay alone.
 
Before too long Michael would reach for
the pile of clay to shape what was needed.
 
As his father watched, over the course of days, the odds and ends worked
their way out of the clay and to the side of the play area.
 
Michael had learned to do everything he
needed to with the clay alone.

Michael’s most successful pieces
were his clay soldiers.
 
The
soldiers were very detailed with rifles and helmets.
 
Michael’s favorite, the General, even
had a handgun.

One day before Michael went to
dinner Will asked him to gather up all of his favorite soldiers.
 
Michael gathered up the horses and the
carts, the rifleman and the grenadiers and lined them all up on the worktable on
a big sheet of white paper his father had laid out for him.
 
From the days of work there were now
over two hundred figures.
 
Standing
in front of all of the men and horses was the General.

Will told Michael that the soldiers
were magnificent and that he should leave them there and go off to dinner.

The next morning after breakfast,
Michael was ready to go right back out to the studio again.
 
“You need to help me shop in the village
this morning,” Emily told Michael.
 
The little boy’s shoulders shrugged in defeat, he so wanted to be out in
the studio with his Father.
 
Michael
felt that was where his place was to be, so much so that he shared the
sentiment with his mother.

“I’m supposed to be in the studio
Mommy,” said Michael.

“Well, that may be the case most
days,” said Emily.
 
“But, today
you’re supposed to be at the supermarket.”

Without any further fuss, Michael
and Emily were off to the market while Abby stayed behind with Will.

Mother and son shopped at the IGA
where Michael was allowed to push the cart and reach for groceries as Emily
called them off the list.
 
Then at
the check out Michael helped put the groceries on the electric belt and with
the bagging.

Emily and Michael returned home
early afternoon.
 
Michael helped his
mother bring in the groceries.
 
He
wanted to start to put them away as he often did.
 
This time his mother suggested they go
out to the studio and bring Will and Abby some sodas because the day was so
hot.
 
Emily opened two bottles of
soda and handed them to Michael and off he ran for the screen door with Emily
after him to slow down.

When Michael entered the studio he
yelled, “Surprise!”
 
Abby yelled
back at her brother, “No, you Surprise!”

This confused Michael.
 
He examined Abby in her paint smock
covered in splotches of green and black paint then over her shoulder to the
worktable.
 
On the table, lined up
in formation, were all of Michaels soldiers, the General standing in front of
them.
 
The General’s hand, gun, and
boots were black and his uniform was blue, even his little face was painted
peach.
 
All of the little figures
were painted, even the horses.

“So what do you think?” asked Will.

“They’re incredible, can I touch
them?” asked Michael.

“Sure they’re yours, you made
them,” said Emily.

“We just helped with the finishing
touches,” said Will.
 
“They had to
be fired to be made hard.
 
Pick one
up, you’ll see.”

Michael picked up the General
turned the tiny soldier in his hands, across the shoulder was painted a gold
braid, and on his chest was a tiny red ribbon.
 
The arm that reached out and above him
now appeared properly commanding with his sword painted silver.

Michael then picked up a horse and
marveled at that as well.
 
After
setting the horse down, he picked up a soldier.
 
The soldier was in a green uniform like
all of the others.
 
All the while he
held onto the General.

As Will remembered, Michael held
onto the General most of that summer and into the winter.

This taught Michael the magic of
creating, and Michael worked in the studio ever since, learning everything to
learn about the studio.

Now Will held the General in his
hand.
 
He inspected the little
commander closely.
 
The General did
not have a face or fingers, however the little body was proportionately close
for a figurine.
 
The sword had broken
off long ago still the General’s arm was still raised in the air to lead his
troops.

Will took the General over to the
table and set him down next to some tools and clay he already put out.
 
Then Will slipped on his glasses and
went to work.
 
“Well, Sir.
 
We’re going to build you some friends,”
said Will and started forming figurines.

* * *
* *

When Nathan arrived at the Bellen’s
after lunch and walked into the studio he did not know what to say to
Will.
 
Every light in the studio was
on and the music was blaring.
 
The
temperature was high because Will had kilns firing away.
 
Urns were set up on the worktable near
the kiln room ready to be fired and at the table in front of the big bay window
with his back to the lake was Will, serene in the midst of a storm.

“Hi there Will,” Nathan
yelled.
 
Will did not hear him.
 
Nathan leaned forward so that
Will
could see him and yelled again, “Hey there!”
 
This time Will peered up over his
glasses and yelled toward Nathan, “Can you turn the music down
?!
 
I can’t hear
you!”

Nathan went to the stereo and
turned the volume down to a tolerable level.
 
“There,” said Will, “Now I can hear
you.
 
What were you
yellen
’ about any way.”

“No wonder you didn’t answer the
phone,” said Nathan.

“Phone?
 
Couldn’t have heard it, the music was
on.”

Will tilted his head back down and
continued working on the soldiers.

“I just was calling to check in on
you and to let you know that I was doing the shopping,” said Nathan.
 
He now noticed that Will was working on
figurines, he also noticed a lot had been done since he had left the night
before.
 
“So, you’ve been up all
night.”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t know you did that kind of
work,” said Nathan, curiously leaning into the table and slipping his hands
into his pockets.

“I didn’t,” said Will, then he
shifted his cool blue eyes at Nathan and grinned, “but I do now.”
 
Will then bent his head back down.
 
“Have a seat, you make me uncomfortable
when you hover.”

“No, I have to put away the
groceries.”

“Ok, then.”
 
Will continued with his work with out
shifting his focus.

“Ok, then,” said Nathan.
 
He started walking to the door.

“Nathan,” said Will with a pitch in
his voice.
 
Nathan turned initially
not sure what
Will
wanted.
 
Will gestured to the stereo.
 
“Oh right,” said Nathan as he walked
over to the stereo and turned the volume back up.

* * *
* *

Abby reached into her pocket for
the two crumpled dollar bills put aside for the coffee and poppy seed
muffin.
 
The two young women waiting
in line behind her were talking rapidly about a date one had gone on the night
before while they simultaneously texted on their phones, the conversation was
the same Abby had heard herself have many times before.
 
The fella seemed nice enough still all
in all the date was a dud.
 
She did
not have to listen hard for the details because dates like these were
universal.
 
Thoughts of work had
filled her mind since she awoke this morning, by the time she reached the
coffee window she was thinking of Mitch again.
 
The reprieve had been short and her
stomach quickly sank.

The morning commute was going to
consist of a detour through the park then Abby decided to take the avenue.
 
At a crosswalk she watched a street
vendor set up his table for the day.
 
His wares were sunglasses and as he pulled out each pair to place on the
table, he polished each lens.
 
She
had seen him do this often and was impressed with the special care that he took
wiping each lens, then holding the frame to the light, the pride that he had
for his product.
 
Each morning on
the short walk to work there were always familiar faces and so many more she
had never seen before.
 
Abby could
easily pass a hundred people she had never seen in her life, all of them on
there way somewhere.

When Abby rounded the corner to the
museum, she was pleased to see the majestic steps of the façade.
 
Some people she knew that worked at
other landmarks in the city told her that going to work was just like any other
job.
 
Abby however did not know
anybody at the museum that did not feel some form of reverence for the grandeur
of the place.
 
Employees of the
museum may have found their day-to-day duties mundane, yet if asked they would
tell you that they felt privileged to perform those duties there.