twenty-one
Nov. 24th, 2015 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzie“You're very considerate.” I smile at him. “I saw when I got home. I don't mind.” A pair of cat ears appear on his head, as if he's wearing them attached to a headband, and then they blink out of existence. I glance at Diego, completely oblivious from his position on the table. It's the first time I've had a vision around Kay, and I'm a little relieved that I think I can interpret it. Although if he ever shows up with actual cat ears on an actual headband, I will be really, really surprised.
"I have time to go to the farmer's market before work," I go on, completely changing the subject, "you can come if you want, and after that you should come to the studio with me because I've had a terrible idea."
"I'll go to the farmer's market," Kay says. "What's your terrible idea?"
"I have to pay you under the table."
"What?"
"Part-time. You'll answer the phone and keep the place clean and whatever else I can think of a few days a week. I'll give you fifteen bucks an hour."
"Oh wow. Thank you. Really. Thank you."
I'm pretty sure the only reason he doesn't jump up and hug me is because I'm sitting on the other side of the table, and there's a bowl of cereal and a cat in between us. But he certainly looks as if he wants to.
"Don't thank me yet. I might make you clean the bathroom."
"That's ok. Grandpa made me scrub his bathtub." He makes a face. "It was gross."
"You'll probably just have to do the toilet. We have a scrub brush. But for now you'll have to be an unofficial employee, and that's why it's a terrible idea." I try to keep everything about Suzume Tattoos honest and above-board, because I was trained by someone who remembered the days when tattoo studios were illegal in parts of the country, and everything you did had to be antiseptically clean, as germ-free as a hospital if not more so, because an inspector could shut you down for the tiniest infraction. I've never had a problem of any kind in any studio I've ever worked in, but because the necessity of honesty and legality was impressed upon me at the beginning of my career, I don't like to cut corners or flout the law for even the tiniest thing.
Which is ironic, considering I grew up with a very casual relationship with rules and laws.
So giving Kay a wad of cash, or cutting him a check, and not taking out Uncle Sam's bit, is not the way I want to do business. I'm not worried about being audited by the IRS - I have scrupulously well-kept accounts - and I'm not concerned someone is going to report me to the Better Business Bureau or the Health Department or OSHA. It's just that I'll know I'm doing something vaguely shady.
But Kay needs a job. And if I can help with that, I'm going to.
He does my morning yoga with me again, and Diego tries to climb on him again, and I take stock of my garden and pantry, and I make a list, and eventually we leave. The weather is good, sunny and breezy and not cold, and Kay surprises me by singing along to the radio as I drive. He has a nice voice. I can't carry a tune in a bucket with both hands, so I merely listen. He stops halfway through the song, apparently embarrassed.
"Don't stop," I say. "I was enjoying that. I didn't know you could sing."
"Yeah, I don't do it that often. Not where people can hear. Bucknell's trying to start a band and he made me audition. I think they want a girl singer, though."
"That's too bad. You sound good."
"But I don't want to be on a stage."
"Do you sing to Diego when I'm not home? You could sing to my plants!"
"I, um, I kind of did. Diego didn't seem to care. I don't know how the plants felt about it."
"Better your singing than mine. I just talk to them. I talk to my garden, too. You probably don't want to sing to it, do you?"
"Not outside, if people can hear me."
I change stations, trying to find more songs for him, and by the time we get to the farmer's market Kay is looking out the window and singing under his breath. He probably doesn't think I can hear him, but I can. I have good hearing.
I also discover that I have a very good eye for ripe produce. I stick my hands in a box of okra and just know that it's a second from being overripe. I can tell which bunch of kale is in the best shape, which apples are crisp and which will be mealy, whether or not the sweet potatoes are good. I can't explain it, and I don't know where it comes from, because I only know the produce-choosing tips I learned from Olivia, the nanny and housekeeper, who would sometimes take me and my sister grocery shopping with her. She taught us how to determine whether or not a cantaloupe was ripe. I learned a couple more things from one of my roommates in college, who'd grown up on a dairy farm and knew more about cows than I thought anyone had a right to, but I've never been able to heft a squash and just know that it will be at the peak of ripeness in four days, even though I could eat it now and be fine.
Except now, as I heft a squash, I know just that. I should spend some quality time in my garden, to see what's ready to be picked and what isn't. (Aside from tomatoes. There are always tomatoes ready to be picked, and will be until the very last one is off the vines and the frost is on its way.)
I can even tell how long the eggs have before they go bad, among all the dozens and half-dozens for sale from the dairy vendor. That's a new one for me. It doesn't make any difference, because I always eat my eggs before they have a chance to go off, but at the same time, it's kind of nice to just know how much longer they'll keep.
I wonder if this is a new and exciting magic manifestation, and if it means I've lost one of the other ones. I snap my fingers experimentally, which earns me a "What?" and baffled look from Kay, and hear a little chime, as if a tiny breeze just blew into a tiny bell. So I still have that particular talent. I'll have to wait to see a vision, and my original soothing skill feels intact. Am I collecting magic now? Should I take up technomancy? I might learn I have a knack for it.
I snap my fingers again so Kay can hear, and reassure him that I wasn't snapping at him, I was just testing something.
"I hear a bell," he says. "Did you do that?"
I nod and snap my fingers again, just to hear it. "It suddenly happened one day," I explain. "Like one day I could suddenly see things the way you used to. It's like I'm collecting magical talents." I wonder what will be next. Fortune-telling? Something pretty but useless, like Liliana's little dancing flame? Or something at least slightly useful, like Charlene's weather headaches? I don't want her migraines, but being able to predict the weather would be nice. I'd never be caught without an umbrella again.
"Are you just going to keep getting them?"
"I don't know. I guess we'll see. I might have just now gained the ability to distinguish ripe produce from not-yet-ripe and overripe. I already had a pretty decent idea, but now I know."
"Huh. That could be useful. You think it works with meat?"
"I don't eat meat, I don't know. But I'll find out the next time I'm in the mood for catfish." Kay wrinkles his nose, making me think the next time I have an urge to fry a catfish, I'll be frying it just for myself. Which is ok - more fish for me.
"So that's... is that four things you can do?" He counts silently on his fingers. "Yeah, four. Wow. I didn't think people usually had more than one thing they could do."
"I didn't either. I didn't think magic manifested in adults so much. I was always under the impression you were born with it, or it appeared when you were a kid."
"I was six," Kay muses, "I think. Maybe I was five. I thought it was kind of cool." He shrugs. "What did I know."
I glance at the bakery booth next the dairy vendor. The scones caught my eye. The girl standing behind the table is wearing a green bandana over her black hair, and she smiles at me just as a giant sunflower spreads its petals behind her head. It's bright, as if there's a ray of sun shining directly on it, and then it fades. I have to admit, it is kind of cool. I haven't yet seen anything really disturbing. But I also haven't been seeing for very long, and if I'd had it my whole life I might think differently.
"My friend Liliana can make a little flame dance on her palm, and she's pretty sure she's always been able to do it. I don't know when my magic manifested, but for all I know I was born with it and I just didn't figure out what I could do until later."
I buy some scones and tea cakes from the baker, decide I should bake some cookies tonight for the little spirit that lives in my studio - it hasn't felt like causing the sinks to leak or the toilet to back up, but I don't want to tempt fate - and take my baked goods and my fresh produce and Kay back to the house. I make a pass through the garden, handling the vegetables I think might be ripe, and come inside with two zucchini and an eggplant and four tomatoes. Kay cuts up two of the tomatoes and makes a sandwich. I think about what to make for dinner. Grilled eggplant, sweet potatoes, pearl couscous. It's not quite cold enough for a tagine, but I think I have everything I need for it. I'll think about it.
Kona is talking to a client and Maya is inking someone when Kay and I get to the studio. I suggest to Kay that I wait to show him what to do until Maya is finished, and in the meantime, if he wants to he can hang out in the office. I have some paperwork to deal with, because I always have paperwork to deal with, so I can keep him company.
words: 1747
total words: 42,342
"I have time to go to the farmer's market before work," I go on, completely changing the subject, "you can come if you want, and after that you should come to the studio with me because I've had a terrible idea."
"I'll go to the farmer's market," Kay says. "What's your terrible idea?"
"I have to pay you under the table."
"What?"
"Part-time. You'll answer the phone and keep the place clean and whatever else I can think of a few days a week. I'll give you fifteen bucks an hour."
"Oh wow. Thank you. Really. Thank you."
I'm pretty sure the only reason he doesn't jump up and hug me is because I'm sitting on the other side of the table, and there's a bowl of cereal and a cat in between us. But he certainly looks as if he wants to.
"Don't thank me yet. I might make you clean the bathroom."
"That's ok. Grandpa made me scrub his bathtub." He makes a face. "It was gross."
"You'll probably just have to do the toilet. We have a scrub brush. But for now you'll have to be an unofficial employee, and that's why it's a terrible idea." I try to keep everything about Suzume Tattoos honest and above-board, because I was trained by someone who remembered the days when tattoo studios were illegal in parts of the country, and everything you did had to be antiseptically clean, as germ-free as a hospital if not more so, because an inspector could shut you down for the tiniest infraction. I've never had a problem of any kind in any studio I've ever worked in, but because the necessity of honesty and legality was impressed upon me at the beginning of my career, I don't like to cut corners or flout the law for even the tiniest thing.
Which is ironic, considering I grew up with a very casual relationship with rules and laws.
So giving Kay a wad of cash, or cutting him a check, and not taking out Uncle Sam's bit, is not the way I want to do business. I'm not worried about being audited by the IRS - I have scrupulously well-kept accounts - and I'm not concerned someone is going to report me to the Better Business Bureau or the Health Department or OSHA. It's just that I'll know I'm doing something vaguely shady.
But Kay needs a job. And if I can help with that, I'm going to.
He does my morning yoga with me again, and Diego tries to climb on him again, and I take stock of my garden and pantry, and I make a list, and eventually we leave. The weather is good, sunny and breezy and not cold, and Kay surprises me by singing along to the radio as I drive. He has a nice voice. I can't carry a tune in a bucket with both hands, so I merely listen. He stops halfway through the song, apparently embarrassed.
"Don't stop," I say. "I was enjoying that. I didn't know you could sing."
"Yeah, I don't do it that often. Not where people can hear. Bucknell's trying to start a band and he made me audition. I think they want a girl singer, though."
"That's too bad. You sound good."
"But I don't want to be on a stage."
"Do you sing to Diego when I'm not home? You could sing to my plants!"
"I, um, I kind of did. Diego didn't seem to care. I don't know how the plants felt about it."
"Better your singing than mine. I just talk to them. I talk to my garden, too. You probably don't want to sing to it, do you?"
"Not outside, if people can hear me."
I change stations, trying to find more songs for him, and by the time we get to the farmer's market Kay is looking out the window and singing under his breath. He probably doesn't think I can hear him, but I can. I have good hearing.
I also discover that I have a very good eye for ripe produce. I stick my hands in a box of okra and just know that it's a second from being overripe. I can tell which bunch of kale is in the best shape, which apples are crisp and which will be mealy, whether or not the sweet potatoes are good. I can't explain it, and I don't know where it comes from, because I only know the produce-choosing tips I learned from Olivia, the nanny and housekeeper, who would sometimes take me and my sister grocery shopping with her. She taught us how to determine whether or not a cantaloupe was ripe. I learned a couple more things from one of my roommates in college, who'd grown up on a dairy farm and knew more about cows than I thought anyone had a right to, but I've never been able to heft a squash and just know that it will be at the peak of ripeness in four days, even though I could eat it now and be fine.
Except now, as I heft a squash, I know just that. I should spend some quality time in my garden, to see what's ready to be picked and what isn't. (Aside from tomatoes. There are always tomatoes ready to be picked, and will be until the very last one is off the vines and the frost is on its way.)
I can even tell how long the eggs have before they go bad, among all the dozens and half-dozens for sale from the dairy vendor. That's a new one for me. It doesn't make any difference, because I always eat my eggs before they have a chance to go off, but at the same time, it's kind of nice to just know how much longer they'll keep.
I wonder if this is a new and exciting magic manifestation, and if it means I've lost one of the other ones. I snap my fingers experimentally, which earns me a "What?" and baffled look from Kay, and hear a little chime, as if a tiny breeze just blew into a tiny bell. So I still have that particular talent. I'll have to wait to see a vision, and my original soothing skill feels intact. Am I collecting magic now? Should I take up technomancy? I might learn I have a knack for it.
I snap my fingers again so Kay can hear, and reassure him that I wasn't snapping at him, I was just testing something.
"I hear a bell," he says. "Did you do that?"
I nod and snap my fingers again, just to hear it. "It suddenly happened one day," I explain. "Like one day I could suddenly see things the way you used to. It's like I'm collecting magical talents." I wonder what will be next. Fortune-telling? Something pretty but useless, like Liliana's little dancing flame? Or something at least slightly useful, like Charlene's weather headaches? I don't want her migraines, but being able to predict the weather would be nice. I'd never be caught without an umbrella again.
"Are you just going to keep getting them?"
"I don't know. I guess we'll see. I might have just now gained the ability to distinguish ripe produce from not-yet-ripe and overripe. I already had a pretty decent idea, but now I know."
"Huh. That could be useful. You think it works with meat?"
"I don't eat meat, I don't know. But I'll find out the next time I'm in the mood for catfish." Kay wrinkles his nose, making me think the next time I have an urge to fry a catfish, I'll be frying it just for myself. Which is ok - more fish for me.
"So that's... is that four things you can do?" He counts silently on his fingers. "Yeah, four. Wow. I didn't think people usually had more than one thing they could do."
"I didn't either. I didn't think magic manifested in adults so much. I was always under the impression you were born with it, or it appeared when you were a kid."
"I was six," Kay muses, "I think. Maybe I was five. I thought it was kind of cool." He shrugs. "What did I know."
I glance at the bakery booth next the dairy vendor. The scones caught my eye. The girl standing behind the table is wearing a green bandana over her black hair, and she smiles at me just as a giant sunflower spreads its petals behind her head. It's bright, as if there's a ray of sun shining directly on it, and then it fades. I have to admit, it is kind of cool. I haven't yet seen anything really disturbing. But I also haven't been seeing for very long, and if I'd had it my whole life I might think differently.
"My friend Liliana can make a little flame dance on her palm, and she's pretty sure she's always been able to do it. I don't know when my magic manifested, but for all I know I was born with it and I just didn't figure out what I could do until later."
I buy some scones and tea cakes from the baker, decide I should bake some cookies tonight for the little spirit that lives in my studio - it hasn't felt like causing the sinks to leak or the toilet to back up, but I don't want to tempt fate - and take my baked goods and my fresh produce and Kay back to the house. I make a pass through the garden, handling the vegetables I think might be ripe, and come inside with two zucchini and an eggplant and four tomatoes. Kay cuts up two of the tomatoes and makes a sandwich. I think about what to make for dinner. Grilled eggplant, sweet potatoes, pearl couscous. It's not quite cold enough for a tagine, but I think I have everything I need for it. I'll think about it.
Kona is talking to a client and Maya is inking someone when Kay and I get to the studio. I suggest to Kay that I wait to show him what to do until Maya is finished, and in the meantime, if he wants to he can hang out in the office. I have some paperwork to deal with, because I always have paperwork to deal with, so I can keep him company.
words: 1747
total words: 42,342
