Find You
A woman falls in love with a sculpture in the window, then finds that somehow it has fallen in love with her, too.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.”
Eddie had been staring down at the display in the jewelry store window, lost in her own thoughts, but when she heard someone speak, she withdrew from them, smiled, and looked up at the speaker.
It was a man, about her age, she’d guess. He was handsome in a comforting, quiet way, and his smile broadened as he saw hers. He held out his hand.
“Jim,” he said, his lips parting to reveal a gentle spread of teeth as he pressed his palm to hers. “Jim Stevens.”
“Eddie,” Eddie said, and carefully withdrew her hand. It was clear he was going to linger, so she turned back to the jewelry store window.
He took it as an invitation, however, or at least used it as an opportunity. “Is it the glass sculpture you’re looking at there?” he asked, pointing. “The one on the blue velvet?”
Eddie nodded. “Yes,” she confessed, still staring at it. Then, unable to help herself, she reached up and touched the glass. He was right, it was beautiful.
“You work at the coffee shop, right?” Jim Stevens was leaning against the brick wall of the jewelry store now, on the other side of the window. He’d tucked his newspaper under his arm, and his posture was open. Broad. Confident. “I’ve seen you there. I come in every morning on my way to work. I’m a broker.” His smile widened, revealing even more teeth. “You make the best carmel latte of any of them, you know that?”
Eddie wished, absently, that he would go. And yet, even as she thought that, there was a strange comfort to his presence. Someone to talk to, she supposed. It might as well be Jim Stevens, broker.
“It looks like a womb,” she said, quietly, still staring a the sculpture. “A dark womb, with the egg inside. Waiting.”
“Womb, huh?” Jim Stevens moved closer—a little too close. His shoulder brushed Eddie’s as he leaned in to take a better look. He wrinkled his nose, studying it. “More like a cloud, I’d say. If it’s a womb, it’s a wild one.” He winked at her, and his shoulder brushed hers a little more deliberately.
Eddie turned her head to the side, interested now. “You’re right. It’s more of a cloud.” She stepped away from him, her eyes still on the sculpture. She smiled at it. “Hands,” she said, almost whispering. “Dark hands, holding the egg. Or a world. Dark hands holding up a world.”
“Quite an imagination you have there,” Jim Stevens said. His shoulder reconnected, and his hand brushed her back. “You must be an artist or a poet, when you aren’t serving great lattes.”
“It’s so beautiful. It’s wonderful,” Eddie said, unable to stop staring at it. “It’s healing, just to look at it.” She looked up, then over, towards the door. Her heart sank as she saw the “closed” sign prominently displayed there.
“Best just to enjoy it through the glass.” Jim Stevens pointed to the card in the corner.
Eddie’s heart sank as she saw what it read: Light on Dark. $860. “So much,” she said, sadly.
“Everything in this place is overpriced,” Jim Stevens said, with disdain. “I tried to buy a pair of earrings for my w—for someone once, and I couldn’t believe what they were charging. Though, in this neighborhood, you’re paying for snob value. I doubt the artist even sees $100 for profit.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Hey—you just got off work, right? How about I buy you some dinner, and a drink? I had a good day on the markets.” He squeezed again, a little more possessively. “A really good day.”
Eddie lowered her shoulder and swung it politely but firmly away. “That’s very kind of you. But I need to be going.” She gave Light on Dark one last look, then nodded at him, waving a she turned towards the sidewalk. “Have a good evening.”
“Hey—Eddie, wait!” Jim Stevens came up beside her, not touching now, but staying very close as he walked backwards, trying to keep the conversation going. “Hey—hey, sorry if I—” His expression deflated as he saw hers. “You heard that slip about the wife. I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to to anything, really. Well—” He stopped walking, and his shoulders drooped. “Okay, I was hoping. But you’re—well, you’re really cute. Pretty. Like that little pearl in that womb or cloud or whatever. I just—I wanted—” He sighed. “Forget it.”
He started to turn away, but Eddie stopped him, reaching out and touching his arm lightly with her hand. He turned back towards her, his eyes full of hope, and it was his eyes that she studied, looking deep within them, seeking, searching. She heard his breath come faster, and she saw the blood pounding in the vein against his forehead. His hand reached out and touched hers, and his fingers were trembling.
But Eddie turned away, smiling, but a little sadly. “Thank you for the compliment,” she said, quietly, and started towards the subway.
“Wait.” His hand came down on her shoulder hard this time, not cruel, not angry, but it was sharp and desperate, unwilling to let her go, now that he had seen that spark of interest, however faint. “Listen, I—hey, listen!”
He tugged.
And something happened.
It was nothing more than a rush of wind, but it was cold, and it was much sharper than his grip. Jim Stevens, broker, let go of Eddie and stepped back, shaking, and then, soon, gasping. Eddie tensed, afraid; but then the broker breathed again, sucking air in on a loud gasp, and Eddie let out a relieved exhalation of her own. There was a faint sound of breaking glass behind her, but she ignored it, and she did not look back as she moved into the throng of people heading underground.
Eddie was quiet on the ride home. She sat in the back corner of the train, keeping her eyes out the window. She thought briefly of the man, wondering what had happened, feeling a sorry for him, but not guilty, and then she simply stopped thinking about him, period. Her mind drifted back to the jewelry store window, to the strange little art piece there, and her heart ached at the thought of it. She had never felt so attracted to a piece, never felt so strongly that it was hers—and yet, how would she ever claim it? Even if she were able to save for it, it would never wait for her. Not something as special as that.
She closed her eyes and mourned its loss.
Her heart was still heavy as she exited at her station. She made her way quickly through the dark streets, eager to be home, and once there she comforted herself with tea and pasta and television before climbing into pajamas and sheets. She scribbled some nonsense in her journal, and then, at last, she surrendered to her dreams.
❉
She dreamed she stood above the streets, a shining star, wreathed in darkness that held her up, wrapped around her, holding her close, protecting her from other shadows. She danced across the sky, and the darkness followed, embracing her, and she embraced it back. She fell into the dark cloud, laughing as dark arms closed around her body, and she gasped in pleasure as the darkness moved inside her and black wings held her up, beating hard against the air, suspending her into the night sky.
Something brushed her face as she woke, leathery and soft—for a moment she was confused, but then she laughed at herself as she reached out and touched the cover of her journal. But she hummed as she showered and dressed for work, and she thought of the dream again as she rode the train back downtown.
I remember the feel of his arms, she thought, shutting her eyes. Light and Dark. It was not the art piece, but it was lovely in a beauty all its own.
She felt bright and easy all through her shift, and she didn’t so much as falter when Jim Stevens, broker, came in for his latte, though she was relieved to discover there was nothing wrong with him, and that he bore her no grudge, and best of all, made no move to flirt again. Her good mood broke, though, when she walked out of the coffee shop and saw the boarded up window of the jewelry store.
It was the window where the art glass piece had been.
“Can you believe it?” Eddie’s manager had come out to stand beside her, grimacing as she nodded at the boarded window. “Stole just the one piece—that’s the same glass I have, and those bastards swore up and down it was shatterproof, but clearly they’re as full of shit as everybody else in this town. Grabbed and ran. Probably stupid kids—probably just smashed whatever they stole against the wall, for fun.”
Eddie’s heart sank. “That’s terrible.”
“That’s life.” The manager shrugged as she lit up her cigarette. “Funny thing, though—a reporter’s already interviewed me about the robbery. They’re covering it, you see, because it was so unusual, and because they found out the artist is this weird little nobody from upstate—real freak, to be honest, into all this new age stuff and what have you. The guy who owns the jewelry store had just agreed to put it up for the one week, as a trial, and at a ridiculous markup, too. Now that jerk’s out a window and his commission. And the weirdo artist from upstate has free advertising on the front page of the City section.” She took a drag, shook her head, then laughed. “Funny thing, life.”
Eddie started at the boarded window, thinking of Light and Dark smashed to pieces in some alley. “Good night,” she said, and headed for the station.
She didn’t even look out the window this time, as she rode home.
But at the door to her apartment she paused with her key in the lock. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. Her skin felt strange. She felt keenly aware—not alarmed, just aware. Her heart was beating faster as she unlocked the door, and she shivered as cold wind rushed at her as she swung it inward. There was light on in her apartment, something very faint. Moonlight, she thought, but it was a strange notion, because it was just dusk now. She put her keys tight between her fingers and kept alert as she stepped inside. Not light. Dark. Her apartment was far too dark.
Then she looked at her kitchen table, and her keys fell to the floor, forgotten.
Light and Dark sat in the middle of the table, glowing softly.
Shaking, Eddie backed up against the door. Every curtain in her apartment had been drawn, and somehow it was night here—just here—because it was as dark as midnight, dark as a night without stars. The only light came from that place on the table, from the art glass sculpture that Eddie had been certain she would never see again, the sculpture that had been stolen.
She felt a cool wind once more, very soft, and an even more hesitant brush against her cheek. Eddie swallowed hard, then shut her eyes, and she saw her dream from the night before once more. She felt something soft brush her lips—so hesitant, so careful, please, please, don’t be afraid—and she sighed, a ragged, terrified sound of release.
When she opened her eyes, the strange sensation was gone. Her curtains were open. It was early evening, and her kitchen was full of orange-rosy sun. It danced across her table, where Light and Dark sat innocently, resting comfortably on the blue velvet cloth.
Eddie moved it, very carefully, into her bedroom. She cleared, then cleaned the top of her dresser, buffing it with polish until it shined and the rough marks against the old wood were barely noticeable, and then she placed the sculpture there, stroking it reverently, gently, reassuring herself that it was actually real. She sat on her bed and stared at it for a long time, until dusk fell and her stomach began to rumble. She made herself a bowl of cereal and ate it at the door of her bedroom, leaning against the frame and still staring at the sculpture, thinking, abstractly, how odd it was to feel this calm. Then she rinsed the bowl, left it in the sink, and hurried back to her bedroom. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, then slid into bed, this time wearing nothing at all.
Sleep seemed to take forever to come.
But it did, at last, in the early hours of the morning—the dream was so different this time. Sharper, hungrier, and sometimes clumsy. All Eddie remembered was being acutely aware of her mouth, of a heat that raged inside her that she could not seem to satisfy, and of sand against her tongue. And then, as if she had been fumbling in a hallway and suddenly found the door she had been looking for her, suddenly it was bright, and she felt it, felt him, and as he came inside her, she thought, for one moment, that she saw him.
She opened her eyes. She could see dawn breaking through the window, faintly. She could feel her heartbeat banging in her chest. She felt the sandy dryness of her mouth. And then, slowly, she felt his wings brush against her naked skin as he withdrew from behind her, carefully, so as not to hurt her.
Eddie drew her breath in as quietly as she could.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For the gift.”
She shut her eyes as she felt the kiss, soft and dry, against her back. Then she smiled, sliding back into sleep as she felt her sheet and blanket being moved up carefully over her body.
She was still smiling when she woke, and she smiled through her shower, and down the stairs as she went back to the train. And when the cold, sharp wind whipped her skirt around her body as she descended underground, she hugged herself, and laughed.