Writing Toward Healing
N C L R ONLINE
31
COURTESY OF THE ARTIST
“Here, let me take that.” Blake slipped his stolen something for herself that was supposed fingers under the strap of my messenger bag, cut- to be mine. I leaned back in the armchair and its ting into my shoulder, and pretended to collapse. hinges squealed. “So. How are you guys?” “Christ, Meredthe adagesith! Whatever they’ve got “Well, your mother hasn’t had a cigarette in six you doing is way above your pay grade.” He wasn’t weeks,” said Blake. wrong. I was writing a grant for a multi-sensory “Wow.” playground installation at the local community center. “So? Don’t you have anyTHE A DAGES HE SPOU TED A S thing to say to us?” “Sorry, I was just taking it in – conHAU GHTI LY A S I F HE ’ D COM E gratulations.” I heard it go a little flat. U P W I TH THEM. “NE X T TO GOD I’d disliked Blake from the get-go, but I’d been trying to change my mind L I NESS,” HE SA I D ONCE A S HE ever since Wanda had told me, smiling, SQ U I RTED BLU E DI SH SOA P I NTO that Blake didn’t mind her burns. “He thinks they’re sexy,” she’d said, “because A CA ST I RON PA N. they tell a story.” He didn’t make it easy. There was the Steelers logo he’d shaved into the back of his head last football season. The adages he spouted as haughtily as if he’d come up with them. “Next to godliness,” he said once as he squirted blue dish soap into a cast iron pan. And the way he’d blurted, as if bestowing me with a precious gift, “Just so you know, I’m totally okay with your lifestyle. Love is love.” I followed them into the living room, where the tree leaned threateningly into the open space. “Babe,” said Wanda, “you said you were gonna try to fix that.” “Shoot, you’re right. Guess I got distracted by those delicious smells.” Wanda turned to me. “I made mulled wine. Learned from a YouTube video. Here, I’ll get you some.” She came back with two mugs, orange peels floating in the maroon liquid. “Listen Meredith, I am so sorry about you and Larsen,” said Blake. “Break-ups are the worst.” “I’m really fine. It was for the best.” I’d had to call last week to tell them Larsen wasn’t joining. What they didn’t know – thank God – was that I was supposed to be the one showing off an engagement ring. I knew it wasn’t reasonable, but I felt a bit like Wanda had pulled a fast one on me, Disruption III, 2020 (cold wax and oil on paper, 7.25x5.25) by Patricia Steele Raible
Charlotte-based artist PATRICIA STEELE RAIBLE earned two writing degrees before pursuing an interest in art, which launched her second career. She continued her art studies with a mentorship, various workshops, and an eleven-month residency
at the McColl Center for Visual Arts in Charlotte, NC. In addition to maintaining her studio, she teaches workshops. Her art has appeared in galleries, corporate institutions, and national publications. See more of her work on her website.