Balefire

by Barrett

  “Dork.”

  There was no place to park in the alley near the studio, so Kirin drove around to the front of the house and parked. She walked back to the studio. The bay door was open, but no one was around. She set down the box she was carrying.

  “Anybody home?”

  She heard stirring and mumbling coming from the balcony.

  “I’m up here. I’ll be right down.” Silke’s voice sounded sleepy.

  “No problem, take your time.” Kirin walked around the two large pieces in the center of the room. It amazed her to think of how big this project would be once it was completed. She bent over to inspect the joint that Silke had described to her. It made sense with the two pieces next to each other. Still, it was mind-boggling to see what Silke had already accomplished.

  “I’m sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” Silke said.

  Kirin looked up.

  Silke hobbled down the steps. Something looked wrong. She reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “My God, what happened?” Kirin rushed to her and realized her hands trembled. “Did she hit you?”

  Silke smiled and put her hand out. “No. I fell, but I’m okay. It looks worse than it is.” She sat in the drafting chair.

  Both of Silke’s knees were swollen and badly scraped. Her chin and lower lip swelled even more with a split lip.

  Kirin stroked Silke’s face as a wave of sadness surged. “I’m sorry. It looks so sore. Do you need some ice?”

  “Actually, I do. I was too lazy to come back downstairs.” Silke touched her swollen lip. “I wanted to lie down to stop the bleeding and just nodded off. There’s ice in the cooler over there . . .” She pointed to the end of her workbench.

  Kirin scooped up the few remaining cubes with a cup. “Do you have a plastic bag here?”

  “There should be one in the cooler with some grapes.” Silke pointed.

  Kirin handed her the bag and dragged a stool over.

  “Thanks, that feels good. What’s in the box?”

  “Almost forgot. This is a delightful 2007 Pinot Noir, and this is a Dyson.” Kirin held a wine bottle in one hand and a fan in the other.

  “I certainly recognize the wine, but I’m not certain what the other object is.”

  Kirin looked around the workbench until she spotted an outlet. She plugged in the fan and turned it on, sending a stream of cool air at Silke. “Voila.”

  Silke closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s heavenly. I’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s so quiet. You didn’t need to do that, although it’s terrific.”

  “My folks bought it for me a couple of years ago, but my condo is air conditioned and I never use it. After spending some time in here the other day . . . I figured you could.”

  Silke laughed. “My landlord thought the same thing. He’s on a mission to find an attic exhaust fan. Between the two of you, I might survive the heat.”

  “What’s going on? Can’t you stay in the house?” Kirin asked.

  Silke readjusted the ice bag. “I thought I might need a safe house, just in case. So I brought some of my stuff out here. After the discussion last night, I felt better staying here. While Rachel’s out of town, I’ll go sleep in the house. I’m probably being silly but, since I can’t drive, I need to know that I have a safe place to go.”

  Kirin felt like a fist tightened in her gut. She took a hold of Silke’s hand. “It hurts me that you have to be afraid. You’re welcome to stay in my place anytime you need. I’ll even come get you. Of course, I never know when I’ll be gone, but for the near future, I don’t have anything booked.”

  Silke wiped a tear from her cheek. “You have been so wonderful, and I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel, but this isn’t your problem, and I have to take care of myself. I hope that Rachel will make the logical choice and call it quits. I don’t want to fight with her anymore—about anything. Whatever she wants she can have. I’m putting everything in Phillip’s hands.”

  “I understand. I’d probably feel the same way,” Kirin said. “Remember, you don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want.”

  “Thank you,” Silke said. “What I’d really like right now is to go up to the house and have some of that wine and maybe a couple of ibuprofen. Would you help me lock up?”

  AT LEAST RACHEL had the courtesy to leave the air conditioner running. Silke left Kirin in the kitchen with the wine and limped upstairs for the pills and some antibiotic ointment.

  She looked in the mirror and gasped then laughed. It’s a wonder Kirin didn’t run out of the studio screaming. She looked like she had been in a prizefight. Along with the bloody lip and swollen chin, she also sported a bruise in the center of her forehead. She might have been more embarrassed earlier if she’d known how bad she looked.

  She applied a glop of ointment on each knee then covered them with gigantic Band-Aids. She smeared more ointment on her face and shook her head. There goes any chance of going out to dinner. Oh well.

  She limped back downstairs. Kirin had opened the wine and cut up some cheese.

  “Do you have any crackers?” Kirin asked.

  Silke pointed to the cupboard above the refrigerator. “This looks appetizing. I got a good look in the mirror and realized I wasn’t going out anywhere tonight or probably all week. I commend you for not screaming when you saw me.”

  Kirin put a handful of crackers on the plate with the cheese. “The only thing that scared me was what caused your injuries. Heck, I’ll take you to any drive-thru in town.”

  Silke couldn’t contain the laughter. She felt her lip split. “See what you’ve done?” she asked, still laughing.

  “We can still have dinner, if you want to go out. Or if you want me to go pick something up I will. Up to you.”

  Silke carefully sipped the wine. “This is really good. Is it a favorite of yours?”

  Kirin took a swallow and nodded. “Actually, it’s a favorite of Clifford’s.”

  Silke tipped her head and wondered if Kirin had ever mentioned Clifford.

  “The owner of the liquor store.”

  “You’re on a first name basis with a guy at the liquor store?”

  “Pretty much. I have no taste and depend on him for everything—well, everything related to liquor. I have the same dependency on George the CPA, Rodrigo the mechanic, and Cynthia the pharmacist. I have people.”

  Silke grabbed a napkin to cover her mouth and regretted taking a bite of cheese. She coughed. “I have to remember not to eat when I’m around you. It’s dangerous.”

  “I’m sorry. That was kind of mean. I was trying to make you smile. Let’s talk about whatever you want.”

  “I guess you saw what I got done today,” Silke said. “I’m happy with it so far. I’ll need to wait for Roger’s help to make sure the joint fits snugly. But if all the pieces fit, I can start the carving, and that’s the part I really enjoy.”

  “Do you always tackle such huge projects?” Kirin reached behind, grabbed the plate of cheese, and sliced more.

  “I prefer the big projects but haven’t done one since I lost so much of my vision from the incident. But right now, I can’t afford to give up a hefty commission. And I do enjoy a challenge. Figuring this out was almost as much fun as the execution will be. But I’m itching to get back to my drawings from Belize, and of course, keeping my fingers crossed for the grant.”

  “Yeah that’d be nice. Have you made long range plans yet?” Kirin poured them both more wine.

  “Sadly no. I’ve been living one day at a time for so long that I’m almost afraid to make plans. Right now, it depends on what Rachel chooses to do. She may want to buy me out of the house, but I doubt it.” Silke swirled the wine in the glass. “I don’t know if I told you that while looking for the bank papers, I discovered she took out a twenty-thousand dollar home equity loan without telling me. And she must have gotten a bonus of some kind because I found a statement for a checking account with an impressive balance that I knew nothing about.” She
suddenly felt embarrassed. “This is probably a lot more than you want to know.” She took a swallow of wine.

  “I am interested and flattered that you trust me,” Kirin said. “Why do you think she suddenly started putting money in a separate account?”

  “No clue. Unless she thought I was going to sue her.” Silke’s bitterness mixed with the wine.

  “Did you think about suing her?”

  “Not really. I was so hurt and angry. My brother really pressured me to bring charges, but I . . . I don’t know. I just couldn’t.”

  “I’m not sure I’d want to drag my life into court, either,” Kirin said. “But you must’ve been frightened. I’m sure my brother would have reacted the same way.”

  A flush of embarrassment washed over Silke. “She wasn’t always like this. When we first met, she was outgoing and fun. As her job responsibilities increased, so did her irritability. She worked hard for a promotion to sales manager—especially with all the job cuts. I don’t know, I think about a year ago she started having trouble sleeping, drinking more, and her behavior became unpredictable. I thought it would pass. One night, she came home late, already drunk, and enraged. No matter what I said, she screamed. I was frustrated and I should have walked away, but I didn’t. When she pushed me and started to throw things, I knew better. The last thing I remember was her knocking me to the floor and grabbing me by the throat.” Empty tears fell. This time, they were tears of resignation.

  Kirin looked for some tissues. “What will you do if she doesn’t want the house?”

  “Phillip has a plan. He knows I can’t afford it, so he suggested that he and his wife buy the house, pay Rachel her fair share minus the money she took for the home equity loan, and then he’d rent it to me at a reasonable price.”

  “It is a great house in a terrific location. What will you do if you don’t stay here?” Kirin touched her hand gently.

  “The million dollar question. A lot depends on whether my vision gets better or worse. If it gets worse, I won’t be able to teach at all. And I certainly won’t be able to stay here by myself. If it gets better . . . I’m not sure. There’s a part of me that would very much like to return to Belize and see if there’s a possibility of building a life down there.”

  Kirin leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “Huh, that’s an interesting idea. You do love it down there and have resources. As an artist you can pretty much live anywhere.”

  “Just before I left, I decided that I will go back in a few months and take Diane up on her offer. Two months down there will give me time to see if it’s feasible. Again, it all depends on what Rachel decides to do.”

  Kirin leaned forward with both arms on the table. “What kind of takeout food do you have around here?”

  Silke smiled. “Let’s see, Chinese, Italian, and, of course, German. What do you feel like?”

  “I had Italian last night, so either of the other two is fine with me.”

  “German is a little heavy for a summer night, let’s go with the Chinese,” Silke said. “There’s a menu in the drawer by the sink.”

  THE RIDE HOME seemed long because Kirin was tired. After they stuffed themselves on a variety of Chinese entrees, Silke had insisted they run out for custard at midnight. It was almost two a.m. when Kirin reluctantly said good night.

  As tired as she was, she also felt peaceful and almost joyful. The similar qualities she and Silke shared astounded her. They briefly talked about their hopes and dreams. Silke talked about a brief marriage in graduate school. Their spiritual and political philosophies even dovetailed. Kirin smiled as she remembered Silke’s stories about how close she and a brother were when they were young. They sounded like little terrors.

  The only niggling worry was the subtle change in her feelings. Ever since their time in Belize, she’d felt a friendly closeness and a natural affinity that she’d attributed to their shared situation. But the few times they’d been together since returning, made her realize that the physical attraction was growing.

  Silke exuded a sensuality that was almost irresistible. Her movements had a musical quality, like a dancer, and she had a wonderful comfort about touching. At first, Kirin attributed that to her vision and need for balance. But now . . . now those touches felt intentional. A warm sensation filled her as she thought about them sitting on the back porch in the moonlight. Silke’s fingers found ways to touch Kirin’s hair, neck, shoulder, and bare thigh. It was probably innocent, but the result was incredibly arousing.

  She opened the windows further. The breeze lifted her damp hair from her forehead. She pictured the fan in the studio blowing air across Silke’s face—a vision of her sitting on the drafting chair with her eyes closed and a damp sheen of perspiration on her wide chest and shoulders. Without a bra, the damp tank top molded to her body. At that moment, her desire nearly overwhelmed her sense of reason.

  The rhythmic pulsation in her chest surprised her, and she remembered her own words. “A body wants what a body wants.” No kidding.

  The image faded and her breathing return to normal as the left-brain begged to be rational. Silke Dyson was in a very bad situation. She was vulnerable, confused, and needy. She also had a rather volatile partner.

  This is not—emphasize not—the time to even think about a romantic relationship.

  As she unlocked her front door, Kirin thought a cold shower might be in order. If she didn’t have one, she wasn’t sure she could get to sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “ARE YOU SURE you’re all right, honey?” Her mother held her arm as she careened across the parking lot.

  “I’m okay, just blinder than usual,” Silke said. “He had to dilate my eyes so I’ll be pretty useless for a couple of hours.”

  She managed to buckle the seat belt.

  Her mom started the car. “Where would you like to have lunch?”

  “Wherever you choose will be just fine.”

  “I will never get over how crowded this place has gotten over the last few years,” her mom said. “I remember when people came to the Medical College because they had no money. Now look, it’s like a small city.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” Silke teased. “I’m glad they make the follow-up appointments the same time or I’d never get in.”

  “Dr. Patel seems very nice and he’s awfully good to you. What did he have to say this time?”

  Even with her sunglasses, the glare seemed brighter than usual, and Silke pulled down the visor. “He’ll wait for the radiologist’s report, but he’s cautiously optimistic. He said that the blood vessels around the optic nerve have better circulation than the last time. When he did the automated perimetry, I thought I could see more of the light flashes.” She opened her eyes and focused on the windshield, hoping to see her mother seated on her left. The best she could do was the corner of the rearview mirror, the visor, and the dashboard. Even those things were just shapes. “He’s convinced that a slight improvement might be positive. Because it means it’s not getting worse.”

  “That sounds like wonderful news, sweetie,” her mom said. “I know these things take time, and I’d be impatient, too. When does he want to see you again?”

  “In another two months. Wasn’t that little French patisserie on Watertown Plank?”

  “I think you’re right, shouldn’t be too much further if memory serves.”

  Her mom turned the corner and slowed.

  “There, on the right, and I think that spot near the corner is open.” Silke pointed ahead.

  The Maîtres d’ escorted them to a small table in front of the window and white café curtains. Silke was thrilled that they had her favorite, Soupe á l’Oignon. Her mom chose the Caesar salad.

  “Has Phillip filled you in on the soap opera?” Silke thought it better to get this out in the open instead of letting her poor mother imagine the worst scenario.

  “Just briefly. He said that you had made up your mind and asked for his help. I do thi
nk he had a good idea about buying the house. It’s in such a perfect location, and I always liked the house.” Her mother nervously rearranged her napkin in her lap.

  “I feel a but coming,” Silke said. “I brought it up because I want your opinion.”

  “All right then, I’ll give you my two cents.” Her mom nodded thoughtfully. “I think I understand your desire to get on with your life. It’s just that . . . well, I’m a little worried about how you’ll manage by yourself. You’ve done wonderfully, but mothers worry about their children. Your income went down when they cut your hours at the university and even though you’re selling some of your work, you can’t depend on that. Without Rachel’s income, it might be really hard.”