someone as reticent as Aris. Sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there.”
I know that there’s a complex person hiding behind his silence. I spend every waking moment hoping to see him, when I walk through the village, when I go into a shop, into the bookstore, into the café. And when we’re together, I feel an electric current running through my whole body, as if he were the cause.
“However, at the risk of repeating myself,” adds Emma, “you’d better be careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you, Dora doesn’t want to see anyone other than herself with Aris. I think she’d do just about anything to prevent another woman from getting her hands on him. Besides, you’re not exactly popular around here,” she concludes, eyeing me.
I give her my most innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply. “We’re just friends. If that. I simply like the things he makes, and I like to watch him work. That’s it.”
I’m even learning to lie.
She returns to her sandwich.
“Anyway,” she says shortly, “how are things with Helga?” Her attempt to change the subject is glaringly obvious.
“The usual,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “Well, I have to go now. See you on Monday.”
Emma gives me a curt nod in response. When it comes down to it, everyone in this town is exactly the same: a few words spoken through a mountain of deafening silence. Even if what Emma has said is something I’d rather not hear.
When I arrive at Aris’s, I’m practically trembling. What if Dora’s there? Well, whatever, I was invited, and I know that he’d never let her kick me out. So I take a deep breath and push open the door. Aris is sitting at the drawing board, but he gets up when he sees me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say with a smile, although I’m gripped with anxiety.
“You’re pale.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He presses his lips together, communicating that he knows that’s not true, but that he won’t force me to talk about it if I don’t want to. He goes over to the table he was working at yesterday, placing my chair a little closer to him. I sit, feeling very tired, and he raises his eyebrows, as if asking my permission to begin. I nod. To anyone else, the fact that we don’t speak would probably seem a little crazy.
Aris gets to work, and I forget about everything that isn’t him. He occasionally glances at me as his hands move over the wood, and his lips curl into a smile. He drinks from the water bottle again and then hands it to me. I don’t even know what time it is. I’m so content that I would stay here until tomorrow if I could. Aris finishes the last leg of the desk.
“Okay. We can start on the drawers now.”
The silence is interrupted by the tinkling of the shop door opening, and Dora enters. I remain motionless, virtually paralyzed by nerves. She sees me, opens her mouth to speak, then realizes Aris is watching, and closes it.
“I’ll make the dumplings for you,” she says, ignoring me.
He simply nods without replying or smiling, though she looks like she’s expecting a response. If he barely talks to me, I bet he never speaks to her. Who knows what kind of relationship they have, considering she’s not really his mother. She looks at him as if she wants to devour him, or lock him away and keep him to herself forever. I’ve never seen possessive lust on a mother’s face before. How does he stand it?
“It’ll be ready at seven. Don’t be late,” she adds.
This time he doesn’t even nod. He goes back to work, as if Dora weren’t here. Taking advantage of the fact that Aris’s back is now to her, she glares at me with a look that could kill. Finally, she leaves. I shudder, wincing, and immediately Aris’s eyes are on me.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“A little,” I answer.
It’s not like I can tell him the truth. It’s not his fault that his stepmother is like that. He certainly takes the brunt of
I know that there’s a complex person hiding behind his silence. I spend every waking moment hoping to see him, when I walk through the village, when I go into a shop, into the bookstore, into the café. And when we’re together, I feel an electric current running through my whole body, as if he were the cause.
“However, at the risk of repeating myself,” adds Emma, “you’d better be careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you, Dora doesn’t want to see anyone other than herself with Aris. I think she’d do just about anything to prevent another woman from getting her hands on him. Besides, you’re not exactly popular around here,” she concludes, eyeing me.
I give her my most innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply. “We’re just friends. If that. I simply like the things he makes, and I like to watch him work. That’s it.”
I’m even learning to lie.
She returns to her sandwich.
“Anyway,” she says shortly, “how are things with Helga?” Her attempt to change the subject is glaringly obvious.
“The usual,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “Well, I have to go now. See you on Monday.”
Emma gives me a curt nod in response. When it comes down to it, everyone in this town is exactly the same: a few words spoken through a mountain of deafening silence. Even if what Emma has said is something I’d rather not hear.
When I arrive at Aris’s, I’m practically trembling. What if Dora’s there? Well, whatever, I was invited, and I know that he’d never let her kick me out. So I take a deep breath and push open the door. Aris is sitting at the drawing board, but he gets up when he sees me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say with a smile, although I’m gripped with anxiety.
“You’re pale.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He presses his lips together, communicating that he knows that’s not true, but that he won’t force me to talk about it if I don’t want to. He goes over to the table he was working at yesterday, placing my chair a little closer to him. I sit, feeling very tired, and he raises his eyebrows, as if asking my permission to begin. I nod. To anyone else, the fact that we don’t speak would probably seem a little crazy.
Aris gets to work, and I forget about everything that isn’t him. He occasionally glances at me as his hands move over the wood, and his lips curl into a smile. He drinks from the water bottle again and then hands it to me. I don’t even know what time it is. I’m so content that I would stay here until tomorrow if I could. Aris finishes the last leg of the desk.
“Okay. We can start on the drawers now.”
The silence is interrupted by the tinkling of the shop door opening, and Dora enters. I remain motionless, virtually paralyzed by nerves. She sees me, opens her mouth to speak, then realizes Aris is watching, and closes it.
“I’ll make the dumplings for you,” she says, ignoring me.
He simply nods without replying or smiling, though she looks like she’s expecting a response. If he barely talks to me, I bet he never speaks to her. Who knows what kind of relationship they have, considering she’s not really his mother. She looks at him as if she wants to devour him, or lock him away and keep him to herself forever. I’ve never seen possessive lust on a mother’s face before. How does he stand it?
“It’ll be ready at seven. Don’t be late,” she adds.
This time he doesn’t even nod. He goes back to work, as if Dora weren’t here. Taking advantage of the fact that Aris’s back is now to her, she glares at me with a look that could kill. Finally, she leaves. I shudder, wincing, and immediately Aris’s eyes are on me.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“A little,” I answer.
It’s not like I can tell him the truth. It’s not his fault that his stepmother is like that. He certainly takes the brunt of
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