7.
 Days went by. Each day, he'd see the women next door. He longed to speak with the pretty one. They had curtains now. He longed to see what they'd done with their furniture. Ben was away for a few days, he didn't know just where, and Lisa was off to work. Mick took one of his paintings, a small water color, a quick sketch of some red, white, and blue flowers in a crystal vase, and went across. He rang the upper door bell. A woman said "Yes?"
"I'm your neighbor. I brought a housewarming present."
"How thoughtful."
He went up the stairs and knocked in a shadowy hallway.
"It's open."
He pushed the door open and was surprised at how elegant they'd fixed everything. The apartment smelled clean. It smelled pleasantly of oranges and lemons and coffee and flowers. "Hi, my name is Em." The woman in the wheelchair extended a hand. She had a plain, chubby face, very sweet and pleasant, and had honey golden hair twisted up in a bun. "That's short for Emma. I apologize for the mess. Wow, look at that pretty watercolor. Did you do that?"
"Yes. It's nothing. You can have it if you like. I just sold a set of eight paintings to Thompson Galleries. You can see them starting next month, after they're framed."
"That's wonderful, Mr.—."
"Thompson. Mick Thompson. I live just across the yard there."
"Oh yes, I've seen you. I look out the window, you know. I'm a nosy person. I've seen you at your easel."
Mick reddened. Had she seen him staring at her roommate? "So what do you do, Em?"
"Well, I didn't work for a while after the accident. I was a ballerina."
"You seem to be doing a lot better now."
"Thanks, you're very kind. I taught for a while afterward, but it isn't the same when you can't move around, show them the steps. Now I just do business on the internet." She pointed her chin toward an expensive looking bank of computer equipment. "I'm a stockbroker. Spend all my time on the phone, on line, same thing." She laughed.
"Well who knows," Mick said moving toward the door. "Maybe one of these days I'll have money to invest and I can get you to do your magic." He felt traitorous with desire to see her sister. That made him feel uncomfortable. Guilty. Toward Lisa. Toward Em. Toward, yes, himself. Jeez. He'd never felt like this before, all tangled—.
Em rambled on: "I won't bore you. I talk to people all day. It's a rare treat to get to see one in the flesh though." She laughed again.
"Well, I'm over there most days," Mick said, "so if you need anything, feel free to call."
"Thank you, that's nice. You should come again," Em said. "My sister Monica teaches French at the college, and then she's taking pottery classes in the evenings. Will you stay for coffee?"
"No thanks. I've got to finish a painting I'm working on."
She wheeled herself to the door. "Please come again, Mick. I don't get many visitors, so please drop in as often as you like."
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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