AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come on. Let’s go, so I’ve got time to take a look at your drawings before I leave. I want to read your story.”
“Not yet, yeah?”
I’m not done listening to another.
Hayden’s, right?
I drag my feet, hoping to hear him solve that bride and groom’s problem. It’s sweet how hard he’s trying. Almost as sweet as when he’d worried about that veil snarled by brambles, and that is what he hands to the bride after ending his second attempt to make a phone call.
White lace is caught by the breeze, billowing in a gauzy cloud between us. He’s out of my sight, but only for an instant, and I have no clue if Sol gives more reasons for us to get moving. I’m rooted to the spot, and so what if I can’t hear what Hayden tells that hopeful bride when she shows him that some kind of clasp or comb on the veil is broken. Sunlight tells its own story, flashing like the blade he unsheathes to slice through willow.
Not through the woman.
Jesus, wouldn’t that paint a different picture?
I mean that he slashes through a tree that shares her name. Or through a few of its whip-thin branches, at least.
She shakes out her veil again, like a cape for a superhero, and fuck knows I’ve drawn enough of those with children who needed protection. Now I watch a Cornish hero twist that weeping willow into a circle. He also takes that veil back before abruptly stopping.
He looks up.
Our eyes meet, and I see?—
Is that fear?
It can’t be. Not from someone his size.
Panic then.
That feels closer to the truth, and I’ve seen plenty from parents on beaches lately, stuck between war and water.
I don’t do politics. Art is my thing, the more playful the better, so using crayons to distract kids while others shielded them from traffickers has kept me busy all summer. Today I get a chance to do more than play at helping. I don’t even know if Sol attempts to stop me from butting in where I’m uninvited. I’mlocked in on what is clear as day to me, and so what if my focus can be fickle? Right now, a shaking pair of hands are my sole target, and yeah, Icansolve a problem for this big guy who isn’t scared or panicked.
What I see from up close is obvious.
He’s embarrassed.
He’s desperate as well, all while trying to fix the veil to this pretty circlet he’s made for this bride having a bad day.
His fingers won’t let him.
That’s confusing when I just saw him slice those whip-thin willow branches with zero issue. I also saw him hefting a huge chainsaw, and make that look easy. This delicate movement stumps him, the lace too fine for him to wrangle, so I do it for him, or I try to.
He doesn’t let go of the circlet or lace right away. He even backs off.
I match him step for step, my hands over his, and yeah, they’re trembling.
“No one else can see you’re shaking,” I say quietly, not sure if that matters to him.
Perhaps it does—he stops retreating. He still doesn’t let me help him, not until I remember what I glimpsed through branches after joking with him that he could be my wedding plus-one.
He’s got a sense of humour. I saw that between leaves before leaving, and that joke about his chopper changed him—left him grinning—and wasn’t that quite the transformation? Now I aim for more of the same.
“Let me tie the veil onto the circlet for you. I’m good at knots.” I lower my voice even further. “And I’m even better at wriggling out of them.”
“Yeah?” He’s dubious.
“Yes,” I say more firmly. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve been promised a good time, only to be left tied to a bed and waiting.”
