Page 31 - WTP Vol.VII #2

from her body and breathed in a woman scent that wafted from her body.
tacked loosely from her ceiling making billowy clouds. The cloth absorbed all sound, her words disappear- ing into that coarse ether. The shock of these words rattled me. This was not a direction I could have an- ticipated from this visit, but I wasn’t sad; instead I felt drawn closer to her.
After she had soothed me into a chair opposite her, she said, “Let’s talk about you.”
“But what about my parents?” I blurted.
“You will find love after my passing; she will be more beautiful than me.”
She sighed. “Hilario, they’re content. They don’t blame you.”
I stared at this exquisite woman open-mouthed. I looked around, squinting into the half-light of her cottage. A small kitchen was beyond the parlor, and I noticed repairs I could make.
“I never told you my name.”
Nadya shrugged. We sat across from each other, nei- ther of us moving. Being near her calmed the self- recrimination that stuffed-up my head. I was unaware
“You’re linoleum is cracked and bubbling.” I glanced back at her. She had not taken her eyes from me. “I can replace that for you.” ~
“Iwas Nadya Luca’s handyman in
I began to repair her rundown home. The stove leaked gas. Water dripped from all her faucets. I glued inch- square tiles on the backsplash of her gas stove. Several times, I had to remove and reposition them to get the pattern just right.
almost every sense of the word; alas, I was not privy to her bed.”
Being in the house allowed me to observe Nadya with the people who entered her parlor. Her fortune-telling sessions lasted longer than one might expect. She read fortunes for sure, but she delved deeper with ques- tions delivered in a soothing voice. Many times, I heard conversations interrupted with raucous laughter.
of the passage of time, but noticed that a shaft of sunlight had moved across the room.
“You will fall in love,” she said, her voice husky.
~
My hearing must have been affected by my work around engines. “Excuse me. Who will I fall in love with?” I asked.
One middle-aged man, Ezra Backstrom was his name, walked bent like he carried a hundred-pound sack
on his shoulders. He didn’t make a sound when he walked, but, in sympathy, I groaned to myself with each of his steps. I knelt on the floor in Nadya’s kitchen working on the pilot light to her oven and eaves- dropped on her session with this cripple. She assured him he would be cured.
“With me.” Her expression didn’t change.
“Ah,” I said, again growing skeptical, my eyes nar- rowing. I felt the scam coming on, surely a request for additional dollars to delve deeper into this sup- posed truth.
“Your wife was evil,” began Nadya, “wasn’t she?” Ezra didn’t answer aloud, but I could almost feel his head nod. “She left you for that man,” she continued.
“But I will resist falling in love with you,” she contin- ued. A cloud blocked the sun, the room darkened, and her face became a shadow. A chill settled on my skin, and I felt the hair rise on my arm.
“Gail,” he replied.
“Why?” I anticipated her answer because I consid- ered myself unlovable, my life shaped by the habits of a loner.
“Gail?” Nadya tisked loudly with her tongue. “That’s hardly a name for a man.” She sighed with disgust. “Left you with...what...three children?”
“Because I’m going to die.” Nadya said this matter-of- factly, her smile not waning. Coarse gunny sack was
“Four,” choked Ezra. (continued on next page) 24