[story] triptych
Mar. 10th, 2013 06:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ib_archiveauthor: flamebyrd (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flamebyrd)
e-mail: flamebyrd [ at ] gmail dot com
"Mummy, look at the pretty flowers!" says Haley, drifting toward the window of a clothing store with a giant sunflower display.
"Haley, don't run off," says Vanessa. "The flowers are very pretty."
Haley continues to look around, clamping her hands over her ears as Benny lets out yet another ear-piercing wail. "Mummy," says Haley, pulling at Vanessa's pants leg. "Mummy, why won't Benny stop crying?"
Vanessa rubs at her temples and prays for patience. "I don't know, sweetie." She rocks Benny's stroller a few times, to no avail. She's tried feeding him, changing him, rocking him in her arms... She's starting to think her baby is just being contrary. "I think maybe he has a tooth coming through. You used to scream a lot when your teeth grew."
Haley pouts. "I did not," she says, with all the conviction of her three years.
Vanessa smiles weakly. She can feel pounding behind her left eye, and closes her eyes briefly to rub at them.
"Mummy," Haley pipes up again. "My feet hurt."
Vanessa looks around desperately. A park bench looks very tempting right now. She drags Haley over to the bench and seats her, picking Benny up in her arms.
Benny swallows for a moment before starting up again.
Haley swings her feet idly. "I'm bored," she says. "What's that lady doing? She's too old for chalk."
The lady, a street artist a few metres away in the process of recreating Salvador Dali in chalk, looks up with a smile. "You're never too old for chalk."
Vanessa squeezes her temples again. An impending migraine is just the cherry on this horrible, bad, no-good day. "You can go look, but no touching," she tells Haley, who leaps off the bench and runs to the street artist.
"Why is that clock melting?" asks Haley.
The street artist smiles again. "That's a very good question. Why don't I draw you instead?"
Haley squats in front of the street artist and watches in rapt fascination as her pigtails and impatient feet start to take shape in broad sweeps of chalk.
"You're better than I am," says Haley, sounding a little put out.
"I've had more practice, that's all," the street artist assures her.
Vanessa switches Benny to the other shoulder and winces.
"Is that your mum?" asks the street artist, adding colour to Haley's hair.
Haley nods. "And my little brother Benny."
"How about I draw them, too?"
"Yes, please!" says Haley.
Vanessa smiles in spite of herself. Haley doesn't always remember her manners.
The street artist continues to work, Vanessa's own red coat and jeans coming to life as she watches. The picture on the pavement is wildly unlike the current situation: Haley is holding Vanessa's pant leg, smiling happily, while Benny is cradled in Vanessa's arms, sleeping peacefully.
"Haley, come here for a second," says Vanessa.
Haley hesitates for a moment, as the street artist adds highlights to Vanessa's hair, then scrambles over.
Vanessa digs in her pocket and somehow manages to pull out a five dollar note without dislodging Benny. "Put this in the artist's hat? And remember to thank her."
Haley frowns, puzzled.
"It's on the left of her chair," says Vanessa, indicating the hat.
Haley takes the note and puts it in the hat carefully. "Thank you for drawing us."
"Thank you," says the street artist, smiling at Haley.
Benny lets out a couple more plaintive wails and then dissolves into quiet sniffles. Vanessa pats him awkwardly until he falls asleep on her shoulder.
Holding her breath, she gently lowers Benny back into the stroller. The throbbing behind her eyes has lightened to a faint ache, and she feels like a great weight has lifted from her shoulders.
"Come on, Haley, we have shopping to do," she says softly, getting to her feet. "Thank you," she tells the street artist.
"You're welcome," says the street artist.
The square is a lot bigger than Noah remembers. "Chewie!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Chewie!"
Some of the grown-ups in the square look at him, but Noah can't see Chewie anywhere. He strides on, more determined now.
"I promised Mummy I'd take care of Chewie," he tells himself. "I have to find Chewie and keep my promise." He walks up to one of the grown-ups. "Have you seen my puppy?"
Nobody has seen his puppy.
"Where are your parents, child?" asks a concerned old lady.
"I'm looking for my puppy," he says, frowning at the change of subject. "Not my parents."
"But..."
He runs away from her, calling for Chewie again. Noah listens for his dog's distant, high bark, but doesn't hear anything.
He walks over to the lady drawing with chalk on the pavement. "You shouldn't do that," he tells her seriously. "They'll yell at you."
"I have special permission," says the lady. She shows him a slip of paper with a red and blue stamp on it.
Noah frowns, then remembers his promise. "Have you seen my puppy?"
The lady cocks her head. "What does your puppy look like?"
Noah brightens. "He's about so big, he's brown, he has floppy ears and a wet nose, and his name is Chewie."
"Do you know what kind of dog he is?"
"He's a cockyspannel," says Noah.
"I can't say that I've seen him," the lady admits. "But how about I draw your puppy for you? That way I can ask people for you." She pulls her bucket of chalks closer towards her and selects one in dark brown.
"You have so many colours," he says, impressed.
She starts to outline her picture, and pretty soon she has a dog shape on the pavement in front of them. She picks another colour and starts to add lighter bits.
Noah provides direction. "His face is longer than that," he tells her. "And his ears are shorter."
She changes the drawing obediently. "Do you and your puppy play in the park?"
"Sometimes," he says. "Mummy brings me and Chewie to the park and we play fetch and chasey and hide and seek.
"Do you have a favourite place to play?"
Noah screws up his face in thought. "The big tree in the middle," he says definitely. "With the big knob on the bottom. I can climb it all on my own!"
The lady picks up some more brown chalk. "Like this?" she asks, outlining a big tree behind Chewie.
He nods quickly. "You're very good," he tells her.
She smiles at him. "Thank you."
Noah digs around in his pockets. "Did you want a sweetie?" he asks, handing out one of the lemon drops grandma gave him before Chewie ran away.
She holds out her hand and he drops the sweet into it, a little regretfully. "Thank you," she says. "Now, do you think there's any chance your puppy's favourite place in the park is also the tree?"
Noah thinks. "Maybe!" he says. "You think my puppy might be there?"
She nods. "I think you should go look there." She grins at him. "The park is that way. Make sure you look both ways before crossing the road!"
"I know that," he says, offended. He runs off in towards the park. "Chewie!" he yells, seeing his puppy lifting his leg against Noah's favourite tree. "Chewie!"
Chewie barks happily and runs round and round Noah.
"Noah!" cries Mummy, running up to them. "Noah, I was so worried. You mustn't run off like that."
"But I promised I'd look after Chewie," he says, confused.
"Always let me know where you're going!" says Mummy severely. "Even if Chewie runs off."
Noah nods, and giggles as Chewie jumps up and licks Noah's chin.
They get ice creams at their favourite gelateria and take them into the town square to eat. Ava gets hers in a cup, as usual. Benita gets a cone and then instantly regrets it as it starts to melt all over her hand.
She wonders if she'll ever feel like coming back to this place without Ava, then digs into her ice cream cone to distract herself from that thought.
"You're brooding again," says Ava.
"I'm not," says Benita. She looks around desperately. "Look, that chalk artist you like is here."
Ava brightens. "We should get her to draw us."
"I don't think she does portraits," says Benita, but she follows Ava to the artist's corner of the square anyway.
The artist is putting the finishing touches on a beautiful rendition of 'Starry Night'. She smiles at them as they approach.
"I love your work. Do you do portraits?" asks Ava, bouncing lightly on her heels.
The artist tilts her head. "I have been known to. You want one of you two?"
Ava nods. "Please. I promise I'll pay!"
The artist laughs and picks out a piece of brown chalk from her bucket. She starts to sketch in the outline of two figures.
"Did you need us to stand still?" asks Benita anxiously.
"No, I can use my imagination," says the artist.
Ava takes her hand and squeezes it gently. With her other hand, Ava plucks her phone out of her pocket and takes a photo of them smiling awkwardly at the camera. "I'll take a picture of the portrait when it's done," she promises. "So I can look at it once I'm in London."
Benita can't quite help the frown that passes over her face.
"Oh, you're moving to London?" asks the artist. She picks up another piece of chalk and starts sketching a rectangle in the background of the piece.
"I'm doing my PhD there," says Ava.
"I'm not going to London, though," says Benita. "It's just Ava. My company has offices there but my boss won't give me the transfer." They can't afford to live on their savings in London while Benita looks for other work.
Big Ben starts to take shape, followed by the London Eye. Benita sighs, a little wistfully, as the portrait takes its final form - the two of them, arms linked and smiling, London landmarks behind them. Being a quick sketch, their features aren't detailed - more like silhouettes - but she can see Ava's loose-limbed grace in the one on the right; Benita's own straight demeanour on the left.
Ava pulls out her phone again and snaps shots from all angles. "Thank you so much," she says. "It's gorgeous."
Benita drops a couple of notes into the artist's hat, and Ava adds one of her own.
"You're very welcome," says the artist. "You girls enjoy your date, now."
"Cheers." Benita doesn't feel very cheerful.
Ava pulls her closer and pokes her in the shoulder. "Stop brooding. This is supposed to be a gloom-free zone."
"I'm just going to miss you, that's all," says Benita, grumpily.
Her phone rings, and she blinks at her boss's name on the display screen. "Hello?"
"Is that Benita? Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I thought you'd like to hear this right away..." Benita listens to the rest of the call in astonishment, then hangs up. Her brain feels numb.
"What is it?" asks Ava. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No," says Benita. "No, it's just... my boss has decided to give me the transfer. We're going to put the paperwork in tomorrow."
Ava gapes at her, then pulls her into a tight hug. "Yes! Finally!"
Benita holds on for a moment, until she feels hysterical laughter building up inside her. "I can't believe it. Why, suddenly, after all this time..."
"Fate," says Ava, picking her up and swinging her around. "I knew we wouldn't be separated."
Benita snorts, but she rests her head on Ava's shoulder. "I'm so glad."
Epilogue
The artist hangs her apron on the hook near the door and walks into the kitchen to wash the chalk off her hands.
"You sure there's no way you can magic up a million bucks?" asks her roommate, wistfully pawing through the day's proceeds.
She laughs. "I don't know, what does a million bucks look like?"
Her roommate looks at her sharply.
"Besides, I can't make big changes, only little things. Changing someone's mind, guiding someone in a particular direction." Her grandmother had strongly cautioned her against granting any wishes that might directly affect her own life, and the artist wasn't inclined to find out why.
"Did you have a bad day at uni?" asks the artist, and listens indulgently as her roommate rants about hopeless tutors and impending exams.
Maybe later she'll do up a sketch of her roommate in exchange for dinner, send her a breath of good luck for her exams.
Back in the square, evening rain turns the day's wishes into a mess of muted colours, slowly swirling towards a storm drain.
the end
flamebyrd)e-mail: flamebyrd [ at ] gmail dot com
"Mummy, look at the pretty flowers!" says Haley, drifting toward the window of a clothing store with a giant sunflower display.
"Haley, don't run off," says Vanessa. "The flowers are very pretty."
Haley continues to look around, clamping her hands over her ears as Benny lets out yet another ear-piercing wail. "Mummy," says Haley, pulling at Vanessa's pants leg. "Mummy, why won't Benny stop crying?"
Vanessa rubs at her temples and prays for patience. "I don't know, sweetie." She rocks Benny's stroller a few times, to no avail. She's tried feeding him, changing him, rocking him in her arms... She's starting to think her baby is just being contrary. "I think maybe he has a tooth coming through. You used to scream a lot when your teeth grew."
Haley pouts. "I did not," she says, with all the conviction of her three years.
Vanessa smiles weakly. She can feel pounding behind her left eye, and closes her eyes briefly to rub at them.
"Mummy," Haley pipes up again. "My feet hurt."
Vanessa looks around desperately. A park bench looks very tempting right now. She drags Haley over to the bench and seats her, picking Benny up in her arms.
Benny swallows for a moment before starting up again.
Haley swings her feet idly. "I'm bored," she says. "What's that lady doing? She's too old for chalk."
The lady, a street artist a few metres away in the process of recreating Salvador Dali in chalk, looks up with a smile. "You're never too old for chalk."
Vanessa squeezes her temples again. An impending migraine is just the cherry on this horrible, bad, no-good day. "You can go look, but no touching," she tells Haley, who leaps off the bench and runs to the street artist.
"Why is that clock melting?" asks Haley.
The street artist smiles again. "That's a very good question. Why don't I draw you instead?"
Haley squats in front of the street artist and watches in rapt fascination as her pigtails and impatient feet start to take shape in broad sweeps of chalk.
"You're better than I am," says Haley, sounding a little put out.
"I've had more practice, that's all," the street artist assures her.
Vanessa switches Benny to the other shoulder and winces.
"Is that your mum?" asks the street artist, adding colour to Haley's hair.
Haley nods. "And my little brother Benny."
"How about I draw them, too?"
"Yes, please!" says Haley.
Vanessa smiles in spite of herself. Haley doesn't always remember her manners.
The street artist continues to work, Vanessa's own red coat and jeans coming to life as she watches. The picture on the pavement is wildly unlike the current situation: Haley is holding Vanessa's pant leg, smiling happily, while Benny is cradled in Vanessa's arms, sleeping peacefully.
"Haley, come here for a second," says Vanessa.
Haley hesitates for a moment, as the street artist adds highlights to Vanessa's hair, then scrambles over.
Vanessa digs in her pocket and somehow manages to pull out a five dollar note without dislodging Benny. "Put this in the artist's hat? And remember to thank her."
Haley frowns, puzzled.
"It's on the left of her chair," says Vanessa, indicating the hat.
Haley takes the note and puts it in the hat carefully. "Thank you for drawing us."
"Thank you," says the street artist, smiling at Haley.
Benny lets out a couple more plaintive wails and then dissolves into quiet sniffles. Vanessa pats him awkwardly until he falls asleep on her shoulder.
Holding her breath, she gently lowers Benny back into the stroller. The throbbing behind her eyes has lightened to a faint ache, and she feels like a great weight has lifted from her shoulders.
"Come on, Haley, we have shopping to do," she says softly, getting to her feet. "Thank you," she tells the street artist.
"You're welcome," says the street artist.
The square is a lot bigger than Noah remembers. "Chewie!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Chewie!"
Some of the grown-ups in the square look at him, but Noah can't see Chewie anywhere. He strides on, more determined now.
"I promised Mummy I'd take care of Chewie," he tells himself. "I have to find Chewie and keep my promise." He walks up to one of the grown-ups. "Have you seen my puppy?"
Nobody has seen his puppy.
"Where are your parents, child?" asks a concerned old lady.
"I'm looking for my puppy," he says, frowning at the change of subject. "Not my parents."
"But..."
He runs away from her, calling for Chewie again. Noah listens for his dog's distant, high bark, but doesn't hear anything.
He walks over to the lady drawing with chalk on the pavement. "You shouldn't do that," he tells her seriously. "They'll yell at you."
"I have special permission," says the lady. She shows him a slip of paper with a red and blue stamp on it.
Noah frowns, then remembers his promise. "Have you seen my puppy?"
The lady cocks her head. "What does your puppy look like?"
Noah brightens. "He's about so big, he's brown, he has floppy ears and a wet nose, and his name is Chewie."
"Do you know what kind of dog he is?"
"He's a cockyspannel," says Noah.
"I can't say that I've seen him," the lady admits. "But how about I draw your puppy for you? That way I can ask people for you." She pulls her bucket of chalks closer towards her and selects one in dark brown.
"You have so many colours," he says, impressed.
She starts to outline her picture, and pretty soon she has a dog shape on the pavement in front of them. She picks another colour and starts to add lighter bits.
Noah provides direction. "His face is longer than that," he tells her. "And his ears are shorter."
She changes the drawing obediently. "Do you and your puppy play in the park?"
"Sometimes," he says. "Mummy brings me and Chewie to the park and we play fetch and chasey and hide and seek.
"Do you have a favourite place to play?"
Noah screws up his face in thought. "The big tree in the middle," he says definitely. "With the big knob on the bottom. I can climb it all on my own!"
The lady picks up some more brown chalk. "Like this?" she asks, outlining a big tree behind Chewie.
He nods quickly. "You're very good," he tells her.
She smiles at him. "Thank you."
Noah digs around in his pockets. "Did you want a sweetie?" he asks, handing out one of the lemon drops grandma gave him before Chewie ran away.
She holds out her hand and he drops the sweet into it, a little regretfully. "Thank you," she says. "Now, do you think there's any chance your puppy's favourite place in the park is also the tree?"
Noah thinks. "Maybe!" he says. "You think my puppy might be there?"
She nods. "I think you should go look there." She grins at him. "The park is that way. Make sure you look both ways before crossing the road!"
"I know that," he says, offended. He runs off in towards the park. "Chewie!" he yells, seeing his puppy lifting his leg against Noah's favourite tree. "Chewie!"
Chewie barks happily and runs round and round Noah.
"Noah!" cries Mummy, running up to them. "Noah, I was so worried. You mustn't run off like that."
"But I promised I'd look after Chewie," he says, confused.
"Always let me know where you're going!" says Mummy severely. "Even if Chewie runs off."
Noah nods, and giggles as Chewie jumps up and licks Noah's chin.
They get ice creams at their favourite gelateria and take them into the town square to eat. Ava gets hers in a cup, as usual. Benita gets a cone and then instantly regrets it as it starts to melt all over her hand.
She wonders if she'll ever feel like coming back to this place without Ava, then digs into her ice cream cone to distract herself from that thought.
"You're brooding again," says Ava.
"I'm not," says Benita. She looks around desperately. "Look, that chalk artist you like is here."
Ava brightens. "We should get her to draw us."
"I don't think she does portraits," says Benita, but she follows Ava to the artist's corner of the square anyway.
The artist is putting the finishing touches on a beautiful rendition of 'Starry Night'. She smiles at them as they approach.
"I love your work. Do you do portraits?" asks Ava, bouncing lightly on her heels.
The artist tilts her head. "I have been known to. You want one of you two?"
Ava nods. "Please. I promise I'll pay!"
The artist laughs and picks out a piece of brown chalk from her bucket. She starts to sketch in the outline of two figures.
"Did you need us to stand still?" asks Benita anxiously.
"No, I can use my imagination," says the artist.
Ava takes her hand and squeezes it gently. With her other hand, Ava plucks her phone out of her pocket and takes a photo of them smiling awkwardly at the camera. "I'll take a picture of the portrait when it's done," she promises. "So I can look at it once I'm in London."
Benita can't quite help the frown that passes over her face.
"Oh, you're moving to London?" asks the artist. She picks up another piece of chalk and starts sketching a rectangle in the background of the piece.
"I'm doing my PhD there," says Ava.
"I'm not going to London, though," says Benita. "It's just Ava. My company has offices there but my boss won't give me the transfer." They can't afford to live on their savings in London while Benita looks for other work.
Big Ben starts to take shape, followed by the London Eye. Benita sighs, a little wistfully, as the portrait takes its final form - the two of them, arms linked and smiling, London landmarks behind them. Being a quick sketch, their features aren't detailed - more like silhouettes - but she can see Ava's loose-limbed grace in the one on the right; Benita's own straight demeanour on the left.
Ava pulls out her phone again and snaps shots from all angles. "Thank you so much," she says. "It's gorgeous."
Benita drops a couple of notes into the artist's hat, and Ava adds one of her own.
"You're very welcome," says the artist. "You girls enjoy your date, now."
"Cheers." Benita doesn't feel very cheerful.
Ava pulls her closer and pokes her in the shoulder. "Stop brooding. This is supposed to be a gloom-free zone."
"I'm just going to miss you, that's all," says Benita, grumpily.
Her phone rings, and she blinks at her boss's name on the display screen. "Hello?"
"Is that Benita? Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, but I thought you'd like to hear this right away..." Benita listens to the rest of the call in astonishment, then hangs up. Her brain feels numb.
"What is it?" asks Ava. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No," says Benita. "No, it's just... my boss has decided to give me the transfer. We're going to put the paperwork in tomorrow."
Ava gapes at her, then pulls her into a tight hug. "Yes! Finally!"
Benita holds on for a moment, until she feels hysterical laughter building up inside her. "I can't believe it. Why, suddenly, after all this time..."
"Fate," says Ava, picking her up and swinging her around. "I knew we wouldn't be separated."
Benita snorts, but she rests her head on Ava's shoulder. "I'm so glad."
Epilogue
The artist hangs her apron on the hook near the door and walks into the kitchen to wash the chalk off her hands.
"You sure there's no way you can magic up a million bucks?" asks her roommate, wistfully pawing through the day's proceeds.
She laughs. "I don't know, what does a million bucks look like?"
Her roommate looks at her sharply.
"Besides, I can't make big changes, only little things. Changing someone's mind, guiding someone in a particular direction." Her grandmother had strongly cautioned her against granting any wishes that might directly affect her own life, and the artist wasn't inclined to find out why.
"Did you have a bad day at uni?" asks the artist, and listens indulgently as her roommate rants about hopeless tutors and impending exams.
Maybe later she'll do up a sketch of her roommate in exchange for dinner, send her a breath of good luck for her exams.
Back in the square, evening rain turns the day's wishes into a mess of muted colours, slowly swirling towards a storm drain.
the end
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Date: 2013-04-09 03:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-04-13 04:21 am (UTC)