chapter 1
Maya's slate eyebrows arched as she squinted and titled her head. She looked up his nose.
“What’s that?”
“What?”
She touched the tip of her nose.
“Something there?”
“Noah,” she groaned. “Today?”
He rubbed his nose.
“Not a good look.”
“Nobody noticed.”
“I did,” she turned away.
“Nobody cares.”
“Who am I?”
“Relax.”
“You need help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Out of control.”
Noah wiped his nose.
Maya reached into her purse and handed him a small mirror.
Noah rotated the mirror and smiled.
Maya rolled her eyes.
Noah handed the mirror back.
“Why are they there?”
"Stopped plucking.”
She stepped to him and tilted her head for a better look.
He stepped away.
She repositioned.
“See, nobody looks up my nose,” he gently feathered the edge of his nose with his index fingernail as though tucking his long blond hair behind his ear.
“Didn’t help.”
“I doubt anyone notices.”
“They will. Isn’t he coming soon?”
“This afternoon.”
“Not a good look.”
“Probably wouldn’t care anyway.”
She sighed, “I’m plucking them tonight.”
“No.”
She sighed, “we’ll see. Why do you have to be so weird?”
“If you can notice your breath on your hair.”
“Then?”
“A kind of milestone.”
“To where?”
“Don’t know. You changed the channel so I didn’t finish.”
“What channel?”
“We were driving up the shore. I was listening to a podcast.”
“On nose hair?”
“Consider this,” he pointed to his nose, “five seconds in, five seconds out. Try and do it all with the same flow. Not so easy.”
“Fascinating.”
“Actually,” he started to explain as she stepped away and looked up at the stained-glass windows. Light greens, blues, and oranges changed hues as a cloud passed. Flower patterns rolled and fluttered on his sculpture of two pillars, each six-feet high and two-feet thick.
Maya slowly walked around the sculpture and ran her fingertips along its translucent surface.
“So how did you get this finish?"
“Resins.”
She pointed to the door.
A group of ladies walked in. Duct-tape on the concrete floor made a four-foot buffer. They circled the two rectangular blocks. They leaned in for a closer look, reluctant to violate the line.
A man with curly red hair entered. His flip-flops clacked on the concrete. His shorts hung low and revealed a dark tan line on his hip. He looked down at the tape. He used the edge of his sandal to roll up a loose seam.
“Sir,” Noah called out.
He pretended not to hear. He squatted down and pulled up a section of tape.
“Sir,” he pointed to the tape arching around the room, “that is part of the exhibition.”
“Sorry. Just trying to help. Thought it was trash,” he caught the eye of a blond woman who stared at him and re-positioned her yellow handbag.
He glanced at Noah and stepped inside the tape. He slowly shuffled his flip-flops to the sculpture.
The guests stopped and turned to him.
“Don’t do that,” a woman with blue glasses said.
“It’s OK,” he said, taking a toothbrush from his pocket and moving it along the top edge of the block. He worked his brush along the face of the right block in a wash-on wash-off motion.
“Don’t touch, please.”
“Got a yellow spot here,” he pointed to a patch and rubbed it with his brush.
Maya started to walk toward him, but he grabbed the hem of her shirt and gently pulled her back. He glanced at the women. They turned to each other and whispered.
“I’m going to ask you to leave,” Noah said.
The women shuffled out while avoiding eye contact.
“Not you,” Maya called out in a sing-song voice.
“Thanks for coming,” he put the toothbrush back in his pocket, chuckling to himself.
“You’re bothering people.”
He smiled at Maya. “I think the blond was checking me out.”
“For bugs, maybe.”
“Fair,” he squatted and brushed his calves. Grains of sand speckled the floor.
“Kurt,” Maya crossed her arms. “Your ass is showing.”
He pointed to the sand on the floor, “let me find a broom for that.”
“Don’t bother.”
“OK, well I’ll get them back.”
“No. Don’t.”
“But do go. We’re expecting someone,” Maya said.
“Someone special?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I gotta work anyway.”
“Still manning the fries?”
“Ha,” he left and pulled his shorts down and showed his white ass against a dark brown tan line.
She shook her head, “I don’t get him.”
“He means well.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Noah. Let me pluck it. I’ve got something in my purse. Give me the keys.”
“No need,” he rubbed his nose.
“It’s hanging out.”
“Nobody notices.”
She sighed. “Goddamn it, act like an adult. Charles is a serious man.”
“You haven’t met him.”
“He’s from the Gallery. He’s used to a different class.”
“Oh? What class is that?”
“Just stop. OK? You look ridiculous.”
“That’s why he’s coming?”
“For a big discount? Did you think of that? You don’t understand money and now,” she patted her stomach.
He noticed. “What?”
She folded her arms. “You’re losing money. People see you and that dirtbag Kurt and wonder if you can do their lawn.”
Noah turned away and walked to his sculpture. His reflection was dim and shining from the reflecting window light.
She walked to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I called for a ride.”
“Don’t you think you’ll help me be more persuasive with Charles?”
She sighed and looked at her feet. “Did you get an appointment yet?”
“Yea.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Will I see paper from your doctor?”
“I guess.”
She tilted her head to the side and stared at him. “So you’ll let me pluck it?”
“No.”
She turned and left.
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