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She sported her clever smile once more to torture me. “I’m thinking three little birds in a nest.”
“Like Marley’s song,” I commented, not thinking anything of it.
She looked up at me in shock and answered with a nod.
“I’m going to hide ‘smile with the risin’ sun’ somewhere in the nest.”
“I think that’s brilliant.”
She smiled at me.
“These will be small enough that I can solder them.” She went back to studying the pile on her table and a few minutes of silence passed. “Would you like them when I’m done?” she asked, her eyes never leaving her scrap. She was insecure, wary.
I was taken aback by her offer. “I-that would be an honor, Cricket. Thank you.”
She raised her face at me. “I’ve never given any of my sculptures away,” she confessed.
“Why not?” I asked. She shrugged her right shoulder. “Have you even offered?”
“Lots of times,” she confessed sadly. “After the hundredth ‘no, thank you,’ I stopped asking.”
I was impressed she didn’t let those rejections stop her from doing something she loved. I admired courage, especially in women.
“Well, I’m flattered you asked me.”
“I know,” she said. “That gives me such a high.”
Because it’s me, or because it was anyone? I wanted to ask but couldn’t pluck up the mettle. I was afraid her answer might damage me.
“Well, happy to oblige,” I said instead.
I watched her work for close to half an hour before she took these giant sharp scissors and started shaping pieces with such ease, I wondered if she truly could be that talented.
She assembled something that resembled the shape of a bird head, but I couldn’t envision where she was going with it until, that is, she began to shape intricate feathers. One by one, she soldered them on before adding a delicate beak and eyes.
She held the finished bird head in front of me and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The work was so detailed; I didn’t think it was possible with a medium like metal.
“Cricket, I,” I began but was struck dumb. Rather than prattle on, I took the bird head in my hands, careful not to damage it, and consciously memorized it.
I handed it back to her. “I’m floored…It’s astonishing. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you,” she said, studying it with a massive smile on her face.
“You dazzle me,” I told her.
Her cheeks flamed and she bit her bottom lip, further staggering me. She checked her watch.
“Crap!” she exclaimed, breaking the moment. “It’s nearly midnight.”
I laughed. “I remember a time when midnight meant the beginning of an evening, not the decided end.”
“I’ll remember you said that when we’re shoveling horse manure at five in the morning.”
I groaned. “Definitely time to go.”
I put on my jacket and cap while Cricket reached for her headscarf, pulled it down and ruffled her bangs before grabbing her own coat. She wasn’t wearing her usual jacket but rather a floor-length brown suede one. I took it from her and helped her in it. I wanted very badly to run my hands down the curves of her coat, but I restrained myself.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
