"Really?" She perked up. "I adore pottery. I do beadwork, though. I was never real good with slinging mud, though I’ve never used a wheel."
"Well, I get the pleasure of teaching a bunch of kids who have also never used a wheel how to make a monumental mess." She laughed.
"I bet. What ages?"
"My first class, which are on Saturdays, are the 9-12 year olds at 8:30, then at 10, I get the young ones. That’s a trip and a half." We both glanced over at Jake.
"I’m so sorry."
I chuckled. "They’re so cute, it just makes up for it all, you know?"
"Oh, I imagine. Where do you teach?" She raised her head from her hand, and grabbed a pepper shaker, turning it in her hands.
"There’s a little studio over at the corner of Fifth and Rogers."
"Yeah, I know where that’s at. I’ll have to show you my beadwork sometime."
"Yeah, that’d be great."
"But," she stood. "For now I need to get going. I have work early tomorrow."
"Where do you work?"
"Portland Library." I laughed.
"I should have figured." I also stood, extending my hand. "It was really nice meeting you, Jodi."
"You, too, Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll see you again." She grabbed my hand with both of hers, then let it go, turning to her mom. "Mom, I’m going to get going."
"So soon?" Rhonda stood, giving her daughter a huge hug. "Drive safe, sweetie."
"I will. Thanks for dinner."
"Of course, Jodi. I love you."
"I love you, too." Jodi went over to her father and hugged him. I joined Rhonda in the kitchen as she started to clean everything up.
"So, what do you think of my girls?" she asked, rinsing the dishes off as I stacked them in the dishwasher.
"They seem like really good kids."
"Oh, they are. I really miss Jodi when she’s away at school. I only see her maybe a couple times a month."
"Why? She’s not that far from home?" I looked for a place to stick the glass I had just been handed.
"I know, but she’s busy. She belongs to so many clubs, and she works a lot of hours. I don’t know how she manages to pull it all off." She laughed. "However, I am happy to say that Cody started talking to me today about a college she may be interested in."
"You should really encourage her, Ron."
"I’m trying. There’s just such a thin line between encouragement and downright grabbing by the hair and dragging to the door of the school, you know? I mean, the only reason we were even able to get her to go to Sacred Heart was because she got a full ride scholarship."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. The girl isn’t dumb, she just doesn’t try. Well, stopped trying, I should say." She sighed sadly. "I don’t understand these kids these days, Brooklyn. When I was a kid, I didn’t have these kind of choices."
"You are full of shit, Rhonda. You and Tom were the biggest hippies I’ve ever met. In some ways, Tom still is." She grinned.
"Cody’s just like her dad."
"Then what’s not to understand?"
"As soon as I graduated from high school I started getting serious about life, and went to college. Very few women did at that time, I’ll have you know."
"And you have to keep in mind that Cody just graduated last summer. She’s not some old spinster quite yet, Ron." She chuckled.
"Don’t give her any ideas.
"It could be worse." She glanced over at me as she handed me a plate. "She could have come home pregnant or something."
"True," she conceded. "I’m just so disappointed."
"I know."
* * *
I walked into the bedroom, heading straight for my hamsters’ cage. They began to squeak with excitement when they saw me.
"Hello, babies," I cooed, opening up their cage, gathering them both up, and carrying them to the bed. They sniffed me and then the comforter, Sploosh curling up next to my arm. "Are you tired, little one?" I asked, using just the tip of my finger to pet the top of his head. Shloop wasn’t far behind until they were both cuddled up next to me. So little.
When I was staying with Uncle Bruce, he had this old hound dog named Candy. This dog must have been near twenty years old. She had arthritis and was blind in one eye, but she was the best company I’d even known; far better than any friend I’d ever had. She could sense my sadness, and would come over to me, her head hanging, the slight limp in her back leg, but she’d always find me and find a way to get to me, and she’d lay her head on my arm, or my shoulder, or even my stomach, depending on where I was.
I remember laying there for hours just stroking her back, careful to avoid the growth down by her tail. I’d talk to her, ask her all the questions I wanted to ask the person in charge of life, or I’d tell her my dreams, and all that I wanted to do with my life. She listened like no one else, whining once in a while to let me know she was still there.
Seeing that Sploosh was about to take a dump, I gathered the animals in my hands, and put them back in their cage, grabbing the food bowl to refill.
I remembered how Bruce had called me at school, telling me that Maggie had finally gone to doggie heaven. I had been so upset, missing my class that night as I laid in my bed in that ratty apartment I shared with Rand. She had come home and had laid with me for hours, letting me talk or cry. See, when Maggie had died, well, it had been hard.
But, as time passed, I came to realize that she was there for me when I had needed her most, and I had been the one who paid the most attention to her. Sometimes I feel guilty, like when I left for school she just finally gave up. But, I knew it had been the best thing for her. She was one sick little lady.
Readying myself for bed, I changed into the t-shirt I’d slept in since college, and slipped beneath the covers on my bed, the down comforter just folding around me like I was sleeping under a protective cloud. Though I was a quarter of a century old, sometimes I still got scared, especially when the dreams came. I hated that.
Sometimes Keith would stay the night and just hold me. I slept the best those nights. Though he had no idea why I cried, he stayed with me. The brother I’ll never have.
Part 2
It was always so hard not to laugh as I watched the kids trying to figure out this thing called pottery. Half of them pressed the pedal too hard on the electric wheels, and sent clay flying everywhere, them looking around to see who had seen their folly.
Pushing away from the wall I'd been leaning against, I walked over to one such ten-year-old.
"Okay, Nick, this is how it works. Remember how I showed you? Gentle presses." The boy took his foot off the gas and tried again. I wondered what he'd be like behind the wheel of a car in six years if he was already such a speed demon with the pottery wheel. "Okay, class. It's almost time to go, so you all know what that means."
My announcement was met with groans as kids were just beginning to really get into the creative process in their second week of classes, after a first week of simply learning the technical stuff.
I watched as they all did their best to clean up, trying to remember everything I'd shown and told them last Saturday.
"Kayla, take your bat off first, sweetie."
"Oh, yeah," the little girl said, removing the round, wooden board from her wheel. Some of the parents were starting to arrive to pick up their little artists, and one of the mothers came over to talk with me.
"Hi, Brooklyn. How are you?"
"Wonderful, how are you, Mrs. Rodriquez?"
"Oh, not bad. How did Jose do today? Did he throw any more clay?" I smiled, shaking my head.
"Nope. He was a perfect gentleman. I'm not sure what magic you used, but it worked." She laughed, shaking her head.
"I have no idea why he did that to that poor little girl. My little hito isn't normally like that."
"Well, you get kids this age together, especially boys and girls, and you just never know what's going to happen. Speaking of, I better go detour a possible situation. I'll see you next week." I patted her arm, and hurried over to Webster Warner, who had a bucket of water that was used to soak the tools in, the water cold and cloudy with bits of clay, poised over his head, his target in sight. I put a hand on the handle of the gray bucket, and plastered a stern look on my face, startling the youngster. "Don't you dare."
Frightened, he hurried to his wheel, and continued to clean.
"Sure looks like you've got your hands full."
I turned to see Jodi Thomlin standing near the door wearing jeans with loafers, a white button-up shirt, and a sweater tied around her neck, a smile on her face. Her hair was pulled back into a braid.
"You can say that again." I smiled. "Be right with you." She nodded, and began talking with a parent. Wondering what she was doing here, but not having time to think about that right now, I got my class cleaned up, and the right kid returned to the right parent. "See you all next week." The kids waved goodbye to me, and headed up the stairs. I turned to Jodi, taking a breath. "One down, one to go."
She walked toward me, looking around the room.
"You must have some sort of ticket into Heaven to teach kids how to sling virtual mud." She shook her head.
"Sometimes I'm inclined to agree. What brings you here?" I asked as I re-washed a bat that still had a clump of clay on it.
"Well, I just thought I'd stop by and see what the world of pottery is all about." She looked at the smock I wore, and the patterns of variations of browns splattered across it. "You must have clothes reserved just for these classes."
I looked down at myself, picking off a piece of clay that had managed to get on the sleeve of my shirt. "Yeah, something like that. This stuff gets everywhere." I looked up at her as I set the bat in the tray to dry for the next class that would arrive in less than thirty minutes. "Have you ever played with clay before?" She shook her head.
"No, ma'am. I had an art class in middle school once where we got to sculpt something, but that's the extent of my Picasso days."
"Well, then I'd say you're in the right place. Come here." I pointed toward a nearby wheel. "I'll show you." She sat on the seat, looking at the wheel in confusion. "Okay, this thing here is called a bat. The knobs on the wheel fit into the holes on either side of the wood."
"Okay." She clipped it into place. "What's this for?"
"Well, your clay goes smack dab in the center. See, this gives the clay more traction as opposed to just the plain metal of the wheel." I slammed the ball of wet clay on the bat. "This stuff is pretty slippery."
Jodi stared down at it, then up at me, the cutest look on her face. I grinned.
"It's not as scary as you're thinking. First you've got to get it centered. See the pedal down there?" I point to the floor next to her foot. She glanced down, and nodded. "Put your foot on there, and give it just a little gas. Good. Now, dip your fingers in that cup of water, okay, now," I moved around so I was behind her, my arms on either side of her, grabbed her hands. "This is how we center. You're going to bring this up into a cone, not too high, you don't want to send this stuff flying, but just enough, about like this, okay?" I felt her nod against my shoulder "Now you do it."
I stood back, watching as the girl did as I told her, doing quite well, actually.
"How many times do I do this?" she asked, bringing it up into a cone again.
"Well, as many times as you need to. Do it a couple more times, and that should do it."
"How's that?" She glanced over her shoulder up at me.
"Does that look centered to you?" She nodded.
"Alright then, we're going to open it up. Stick your finger right in the center, and slowly press down until you feel you're about, oh, half inch from the bat."
"Okay." She scrunched up her nose. "It's so slimy." I chuckled.
"Okay, now gently, very gently, start pulling it toward you."
"Here?" she asked, her finger on the part closest to her.
"Yep. What you're doing now is giving it a little shape, a little size. Open it up to the width you want. For instance, if you wanted to make a bowl, obviously you'll pull it out quite a bit. If you're into a vase or a glass, it won't be near as wide."
"I'm afraid to make it too thin, and it'll fall."
"Well, that can certainly happen, but I wouldn't worry about that. You can pull it little more, Jodi." I grinned, trying not to laugh.
"Okay, this is all I want to do. I don't want it to get too thin." I looked at the piece she was making, seeing the walls, which were about an inch thick.
"Okay. It's up to you. When you've done that, we're going to start bringing it up."
"Bringing it up? Huh?" I grinned. I just loved teaching new people.
"Yep. Stop the wheel a sec. Okay, this is what you're going to do." I reached around her again, dipping my fingers into the water, then putting them inside the narrow... thing. "As the wheel is going, you will have the fingers of this hand inside, and the others outside, and gently pull up on the walls of your pot. This will make it taller."
"It won't pull apart?"
"Nope." I stood. "Just do it slow."
"Okay."
I could hear the door at the top of the stairs open as my second class, the even younger kids, started to come. I looked at what Jodi was creating, wondering what on earth she was trying to do. The thing was getting taller and taller, but was still really narrow. A vase, maybe?
"Okay. This thing is going to fall over, Brooklyn," she said, the wheel stopping as she studied the leaning tower of Thomlin.
"Okay. Well, unfortunately there isn't anything I can do about it right now. My eleven o'clock students are starting to arrive." I grabbed the wire cutter from the little basket of tools on the wheel top. "Now to get this off the bat. Take this in both hands, and slide it under the clay. Good. I'll take this now."
"What's next?"
"Well," I said, setting the work onto a drying rack. "It'll dry, then I'll do some trim work for you, and put a nice foot on it for you."
"Foot?"
"On the bottom. So it's not just this flat thing."
"Ah."
"Then it'll get it's first firing, which is called the bisque firing, then I'll glaze it, and do the final firing. Do you have a preference in color?" I asked as I took the bat off the wheel, and took it over to the sink.
"Just something subtle, nothing flashy."
"I can do that."
"Thanks so much, Brooklyn." Jodi smiled at me, her hazel eyes twinkling.
"You're very welcome. I thoroughly enjoyed teaching you."
"Well, um, maybe I can come back sometime."
"I'd like that. Bye for now."
"Bye." She gave me a little wave, and hurried up the stairs, flattening herself against the wall as vivacious little five year olds came bounding down.
* * *
Rhonda and I took our normal seat at Tristan's, a popular lunch spot about ten minutes away from the office. Our drink orders taken, Rhonda turned to me.
"So, how's the house going?"
I sighed, thinking about my never-ending project. "Not bad. I'm thinking about changing the deck off the back. I've gotten some estimates already. What do you think?"
The waiter brought us our complimentary breadsticks, and I began to chow down. I was starving as we had to take a late lunch, our current account just sucking up the time.
"Well," she said, sipping from her water. "What are you planning?"
"Well, I was thinking to extend it out a bit. Right now it's only about ten by twelve. I'd rather have more room out there. You know once I start having my summer barbecues." I grinned.
"You better, kiddo." She smacked my arm playfully. "I think it sounds great, and Tom could probably get the wood cheaper for you. What's the estimate you've gotten so far?"
"Well, the lumber yard on Auburn quoted me at around five."
"Thousand?" she nearly squeaked. I nodded. Rhonda shook her head. "Oh, no, sweetie. That's ridiculous. Tom could definitely get it far cheaper, and at cost. But keep some things in mind. One time at a house we bought when we first got married, Tom got the bright idea to build this huge deck, and it was great, but it sucked up our yard. Forget a garden at that place." I chuckled.
"Well, thanks for the warning, but it's not like I really use the backyard a whole lot, anyway."
"True, but you have to think about your resale value. I doubt you'll stay in that house forever. I'm always warning my kids about that kind of thing when they go to buy their first house."
"Hmm." I sipped from my water, never thinking in those terms before. Thank God for Rhonda, or I would have gotten screwed over so many times. "Speaking of, Jodi stopped by the studio the other day."
"Oh yeah?" Rhonda buttered a breadstick. "When was this?"
"Saturday, between classes."
"Did she make a pot?"
"Of sorts." I chuckled. "I'm not real sure what to call it, but she tried. I'll bring it to work and you can give it to her; I have no doubt you'll see her before I do."
"Probably so. She's so busy. Did you know she holds down a full-time job at the library plus pulling her 22 credit hours at school?"
"Impressive. She hits me as the type who thrives with that sort of thing."
"Oh, she is. One of her first words was book, no kidding."
"See that? It was meant to be." The waiter brought our drinks, and took our lunch orders. "What about Cody? What is she good at, besides pulling attitude?" I smiled.
"That's about it, I think. Well, other than skateboarding, that is."
"Come on, Ron. There's got to be something in there. She'll grow out of this rebellion stuff. She's supposed to be a punk right now."
"She's certainly got that one down pat, let me tell you. If I had a nickel for every time she got into trouble with that Jimmy kid I'd be a rich woman. He's a bad influence."
"Give her time, Ron. She'll figure it out sooner or later."
"I just pray that it's sooner."
* * *
I wandered around my house, struck by what I had managed to accomplish already in my life - the two-story, brick house that I had lay in bed as a kid and dreamed of. The selling point, of course, had been the solarium that was off the back of the house, eight feet long, four feet deep, and reaching up to my bedroom on the second floor, a door leading into it from there. The wooden shelves placed strategically throughout were lined with plants. I loved plants, and spent so much of my weekend wandering around the stairs that lead to each level to see how they were doing. I must have spent a month's water bill getting them all to grow. The two fireplaces, especially the one in my bedroom, was certainly another huge selling point - red brick with a cherry wood mantel.
I stood in there now, the largest of the three upstairs rooms. The walls, painted a dark blue to contrast with the dark wood floors, and white accents. I smiled, suddenly feeling very proud. My hard work, and well, my father's good planning, I had been able to do this at 23.
Had I grown up too fast? I often wondered about that. I had had my share of fun as a kid. My best friend, Randi, or Rand as she preferred, and I. I only called her by her given name when I was mad at her or wanted something from her. She had been my lifesaver through so much, and so many years.
Shaking the thought out of my head when I heard the doorbell, I grabbed a sweater, knowing I'd need it tonight. The nights could be so cold, but the winter was slowly blowing out, and spring was coming. Tonight was friend's night out, and I was excited. It was rare that the four of us were actually able to be in the same place at the same time. I guess that's what happens when you all grow up.
* * *
Holding my hand to my mouth, knowing what was coming next in Pete's story, I listened intently. When he got on a roll, Peter Kacey was hilarious.
"So, the press is all set up in the conference room, and I had just finished my letter to Rand, which in all honesty, no one had any business reading," he turned to my best friend, and they shared a knowing smile. "The speech I'd written for the senator was laying on the desk. I pushed the letter away, and Altman comes in, blindly grabbed what he thought was the speech off my desk, I'm out of my chair in seconds, running after the old guy to get my damn letter back!"
All of us erupted in laughter, Keith choking on the drink of water he'd just taken. Pete swiped at his eye as he laughed even harder at the memory. I pounded on Keith's back to help him swallow the drink, still laughing myself.
Pete was one of those guys who had that real dry sense of humor, and even though his story was funny, the delivery made it that much better. He tells his tales with a straight face, never cracking a smile, and looking at life as though he's a kid who doesn't understand why all the shit has to hit his fan.
"That will teach you to write down our latest sexual escapades in a damn letter," Rand exclaimed, playfully shoving her boyfriend. He shrugged, taking a drink from his beer. "We all remember the email incident, don't we?" A new bout of laughter, making my stomach hurt to the point where I had to try and take deep breaths to calm myself.
"Well, that's nothing compared to my roommate in college who would sculpt all his conquests' penis' in clay after they broke up, and sell them for ten bucks a piece as a 'Dildo in Suspension.'" Keith chuckled.
"Are you serious?" I asked, never hearing that story before. He looked at me and nodded, his eyes twinkling.
"So tell me, big guy, was yours among those on the auction block?" Pete asked. My boyfriend turned to him, tossed his napkin at him.
"You wish."
I turned toward Rand, who was the closest person to me in my entire life. She had been by my side since we were eleven years old. Fifteen years later, we were closer than ever. She still wore her usual black clothing, a fashion statement of sorts she started almost 10 years prior. She had looked like a mortician since we'd been teenagers, but she actually managed to pull it off without looking too much like a member of the Addam's family. If she wore any other color, other than as an accessory, we worried.
"What about you, cupcake? How did the world of public relations go today?" She rolled her eyes.
"Don't ask, muffin. Senator Waldorf tried to get me to um, well, I'd be able to save the dress."
That earned a third round of chuckles.
"That old man needs to get some," she finished with a smile, taking a bite out of her roll.
"Well," I put my fork on my plate, steak forgotten for a moment. "Let me give you the next chapter in the Thomlin chronicles."
"Now what? Did Jake swallow his allowance again?" I laughed, and shook my head.
"Uh, no. The infamous twins? Well, Cody, the 'evil seed' got kicked out of the nunnery they had sent her to."
"Oh, ouch." Keith said, cutting his cod into little pieces.
"Yeah, Rhonda was not thrilled, let me assure you. So, anyway, the elusive Jodi and Cody do, in fact, exist."
"So, they're not just some figment of your boss' imagination that she's been entertaining you with for the last two years?" Pete said, wiping his mouth and sitting back in his chair.
"No," I sipped from my water. "Amazingly enough, they're not. They're very real, and they're very different. I don't know that I've ever seen a set of twins so drastically un-alike. Jodi is a total prep, coming to dinner, and to the studio I might add, dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt with a friggin' sweater tied around her neck. And then there's Cody. She had on these huge cargo pants that she was just swallowed by, a sweater that looked like was borrowed from her father, and Vans. I honestly think she could have used the pockets on those pants as a built-in purse."
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