Steamwork Chai
theladywrathOn Saturday they would sit on their balcony drinking coffee. This had been their ritual for as long as Francis could remember, and this would be their ritual for as long as he could help it.
Francis would help Dame to her chair and pour their coffee. She took two creams and two sugars, while he took his straight black. Dame used to tell him that he should add some sugar to his coffee, "You could use a 'lil extra sweetness in you" she would tease.
He brought Dame her coffee and set it on the side table that was flanked by their chairs. Francis had made her these chairs and table for Luminaire six years ago. It had been a bad yearand he had been hard up for money in a bad way. Construction that year had been a bust. So, for a gift he had made the chairs from reclaimed pallet wood. He had carved decorative flowers into the armrestsand gave them a maple finish. Dame had absolutely loved them, and that made him happy.
PART 2
Francis sat on his workbench staring intently at the square block of basswood. This needs to be perfect, he thought. He studied the image and started to draw the outline on the block.
His old wrinkled hands moved with a swift delicateness that betrayed their withered look. He shaped the head using his sharp U-gouge. He gave the cheekbones their shape, tapering away to the jawlineand down the neck. He flayed the forehead and crafted the ears, smoothed the lips, perfected the nostrils, and dug out holes for the eyes...
He looked across the workroom to the wall with the nine discarded basswood blocks. He couldn't get the eyes right. They were all beautiful until he got to the eyes and had to start over. The eyes had tobe perfect, Dame had always told him, "Eyes are the windows to the soul." If he wanted to capture the soul, he had to do it through the eyes. Carefully with a pen knife he began whittling away the shape of the eyes.
Constantly redrawing as he went; when they were to shape he used a small V-gouge to cut the eyes pupil. Francis hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he let out an exhausted sigh.The eyes were perfect.
PART 3
Francis was sitting on the porch with Dame when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up from the classifieds, first at the door and then at Dame who was looking at him from over the top of her book.
Francis knew that look and said, "How should I know who it is? I wasn't expecting company." Francis rose from his chair and went through the house to the front door. When he opened the door,it was one of this lead carpenters, Andre.
"How's it going Andre? I uh, wasn't expecting you today." Francis said to him.
"I know. I'm sorry man, I tried calling you, but you haven't been answering your phone." Andre smiled sheepishly, "Its just that some of us guys are worried about you."
"Oh don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Work will pick up again soon. I've got some work lined up, make sure your boys are ready." Francis said.
"It's not the work we're worried about. It's you. We haven't really heard from you since Dame... uh well..." Andre wasn't sure how to proceed and hoped Francis would pick it up from there.
"It's okay Andre, Dame and I are fine. Why don't you come join me on the deck for a cup of coffee." Francis turned and walked back into the house.
As they neared the back door, Andre'sworry took a turn. Was he hearing things right or had Francis just said that Dame and him were fine? He followed him out and was about to ask Francis what he had meant when he spied what was inDame's chair. A wood carving that looked exactly like her down to the last detail. Andre felt a small chill go up his spine and he stood in the patio doorway with his mouth agape.
"Well, don't' be rude Andre. Say hello to Dame, why dontcha." Francis said.
"Um, Francis. That's not Dame, that's a carv-" The words stopped dead cold in his mouth as he saw the eyes of the wood carving move and settle on him. Andre had never been so terrified inhis life.
"Well, Andre you just gonna stand there like a fool or are you gonna have a cup with us?"
"You know Francis, I think I forgot... um something. I gotta go.. get it." Andre turned quickly and trying not to run, walked to the door and outside to his truck, peeling twenty feet of dirton his way out of the driveway.
Francis looked at Dame. Dame looked at Francis.
"How the Heck should I know whats wrong with the boy? He must be back on the drink again." with the conversation settled, Francis sat back in his chair, sipped his coffee, and resumedreading the paper.
This had been their ritual for as long as Francis could remember, and this would be their ritual for as long as he could help it.
