Chapter 8 – Sydney
SYDNEY
Fucking pottery. Of all the hobbies I could have chosen to distract myself, I picked pottery, which I’m quickly realizing I am completely inept at.
It’s very possible I have zero talent in any visual arts.
I look over to Jade, who has already thrown a perfect vase in the time it took me to shape my glob of clay into… a different-shaped glob of clay. Fuck.
Justin has—somewhat surprisingly—been an amazing addition to the shop.
Since he has no friends in the area, and no more university work to take up his attention, he’s been more than happy to pick up whatever shifts we throw at him.
Which is the reason I’m able to be here with Jade right now, creating monstrosities.
But it is helping. Spending time with my best friend, learning something new. It’s helping me feel less alone. Less broken.
I don’t need a man to feel whole. Hell, I don’t even need four men to feel whole. I need this. I need my best friend. I need clay caked so deeply under my fingernails I’ll have something to pick at for the next four days.
“Do you think mice have souls?” Jade asks suddenly. Leaning back on her stool, she stares calculatingly at the sculpture in front of her as if there were anything left to perfect. Our class instructor, Mr. Beck, is busying himself walking between students, offering gentle instruction and critique.
I tap my finger against my glob, considering the question.
“Give me more context,” I say. “I want a full understanding of the question before I give my answer.”
“Okay, let’s say souls are real,” Jade continues, placing her vase to the side and starting again with fresh clay. “And if you have a soul, you get into some kind of afterlife, right?”
“Like a heaven?” I ask.
Jade nods enthusiastically. “Right, like heaven. If you have a soul and live a good life, you get to go there. But what happens with things like mice? Do they have a soul? And if they do, are there just millions of mice running around heaven?”
“Hang on, back up a bit. How does a mouse live a good life?”
“I don’t know.” Jade sighs, exasperated. “Let’s say our mouse doesn’t fight with the other mice. Not ever. And she only steals food from the trash, right? Not from anyone who needs it. Plus, she never covets another mouse’s wife or anything like that.”
“An upstanding, moral mouse,” I agree, nodding.
“Obviously, our mouse goes to heaven,” Jade continues. “Which begs the question, is there a mouse-specific heaven? Because I’m pretty sure my idea of heaven doesn’t include stampeding hordes of mice all over the place.”
“Naturally,” I agree.
“But then, where does it stop?” Jade leans forward, her attention somehow focused both on the mouse-heaven quandary and her quickly developing vase.
“Are there insect heavens? Plant heavens? Do all species get their own heavens, separated but infinite worlds where all the good creatures can be happy forever?”
“There’d have to be some overlap, right?” I point out, jabbing my finger at what looks like…a bowl? Maybe? “Like, human heaven and dog heaven, those two could be the same thing.”
“Right,” Jade agrees. “Or like, cat heaven is probably bird hell, you know? There’s obvious synergy there.”
Jade finishes another amazing vase and holds it out for me to take.
“You have no faith in me,” I complain, pouting. “You don’t think I can finish and sell this…ashtray to a brilliant art collector?”
“I have so much faith in you! But part of that is the faith that you’ll realize that you’re shit at this, and you’ll take this vase and quickly place it on your wheel before the instructor tries to help you and wastes everyone’s time,” Jade says, once again thrusting her vase at me.
“All right, class,” Mr. Beck calls from the front of the classroom, clapping his hands together. “Bring your final vases up to the front next to the kiln to be fired!”
I abandon the clay frisbee I created and take Jade up on her offer of a fully fledged vase so I don’t have to embarrass myself. “Thanks for helping me avoid a walk of ceramic shame. Next activity, let’s pick something easier.”
Mr. Beck gives our vases a nod of approval as we drop them off, and when we get back to our station, I add my misshapen lump of horrors back to the pile of unused clay. Jade walks over to the sink to wash the clay from her hands.
“Let’s make you some hot cocoa when we get back to the shop,” she offers. “Chocolate will help distance us from the memories of this failed experiment.”
“Thanks.” I smile at her and make my way to the sinks, staring out the window at the sunny afternoon. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jade, you—”
No.
This time it’s more than just a flash. I see him clearly for just a few seconds across the street. And then he’s gone.
“Sydney?” Jade prompts when I stop talking. “You stopped in the middle of my praise, sweetie. You know I need my accolades.”
“Sorry.” I blink, my voice shaky. “I just thought…”
She turns and gives me her full attention, frowning. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“I thought I saw Chase,” I explain, feeling a little dizzy. “Just—just for a second, on the sidewalk outside.”
Jade’s head whips around. She stares through the window, twisting and turning to examine every face walking by.
“Are you sure?” she asks, anger and anxiety commingling in her voice.
Sure? No, not at all. And I want to be wrong, but…
Something gnaws at my gut, that horrible intuition women have spent their entire lives cultivating, sharpened to a razor’s edge from the anguish of navigating a world where too many people wish you harm.
“I’m not certain,” I admit, chewing my lip. “But… I thought I saw him the other day, too. Outside our shop.”
“And you think it was him, both times?” Jade stares intensely out the window as if she could will what I saw into existence.
I shake my head.
“No, I… It wasn’t him,” I say, letting the lie settle. “I’m just being paranoid.”
Jade’s lips thin into a straight line.
“Are you sure?” she presses. “Syd, you seem really freaked out—”
I shake my head, repeating the lie a little louder this time, hoping that I’ll believe it too. “It wasn’t him,” I tell Jade, voice firm. But I can’t meet her eyes when I say it. And she sees right through the lie. Her face darkens.
“Look, I know you don’t want to see Chase again. I get that. But the way your face just paled at the idea of him being outside…” Jade trails off without finishing her sentence, watching me too closely. “Syd, lately I’ve been getting a feeling that maybe there’s more to this than you’ve told me.”
She’s right. There is. But it’s hard to admit that I haven’t been honest with her. The one person I know would never judge me, even when I judge myself.
I swallow hard, and when I look up, Jade holds my gaze.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she presses.
“Of course I know that,” I insist, drying my hands. But I struggle to find the words to tell her.
A long silence stretches between us as we finish cleaning up our pottery station. By the time we’re finished, most of the other students have left.
“I need a drink,” I say suddenly, my voice a little too loud. “Do you need a drink? I think maybe we should replace that hot chocolate idea with a really, really gin-forward glass of straight gin.”
Jade’s smile is only a little strained. “Yes, I need a drink. But no, I’m not drinking straight gin like a goddamn psychopath. I will drink it with vermouth and olive juice like the lady I am.”
“Bail?” I ask, grinning at her.
“Bail,” she quickly agrees.
Justin can handle running the store a little longer on his own while we get a drink, I reason as we stroll out of the classroom and into the sunny afternoon. Because today… Today, I need to share a long-overdue confession with my best friend. And I need to do it before I lose my nerve.
As soon as we step outside, I shiver, despite the sunny weather.
Fall is just around the corner, and there’s finally a chill in the air that I can feel all the way down to my bones.
I know everyone loves the summer months, but nothing feels better to me than the beginning of autumn.
This is the time of year I truly come alive.
There’s a cocktail bar not far from our pottery class that Jade and I used to frequent all the time, and we head there without discussing it.
The Twin Pines used to be our favorite place to grab a drink together after work, but we haven’t been there in a while.
Between my breakup, running the café, and dating a harem of men, I guess we just haven’t had the time.
It seems as good a place as any to have this conversation.
When Jade pushes open the door and we step inside, it’s like stepping back in time.
It looks just the way I remember—upscale, but not too fancy.
Quaint and charming. The sort of place that’s easy to return to.
It’s only three pm, so the bar is unsurprisingly empty, apart from the bartender and one surly man at a table on his own, whiskey glass hovering below his mouth.
The bearded bartender looks up when we enter, greeting us with a huge smile. “Wow, ladies. I haven’t seen you in a bit.”
“Hey, Seamus,” Jade says, giving him a toothy grin.