The Last Sketch by Gosia Nealon

Author:Gosia Nealon [Nealon, Gosia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indies United Publishing House

16

Wanda

I wake up to birds chirping outside, and I can’t help but smile at the memory of Finn’s kiss last night. His touch felt so good. I spent most of the night thinking of him and the way he looked at me like he didn’t want to let me go.

I know it’s still very early, probably no more than six, but I can’t wait to see him again. He has this habit of an early coffee. I wash my face in the bathroom sink and put on an ocean-blue, short-sleeved dress. I spend a good fifteen minutes pinning my hair up––something totally foreign to me, as it usually takes me no more than a minute.

I must stop this. I don’t need to impress him with my looks. We are just friends, and it should stay that way. Not so long ago, I thought he was Tata’s murderer. He is not, but his brother is. And here I am trying to seduce him. I unpin my hair and let it loose. It’s not important how I look. There are more critical things to worry about.

The strong aroma of ersatz coffee fills the kitchen air. He sits at the table, his head down.

“Good morning,” I say and smile. In my heart, I’m thrilled to see him.

He gives me a startled look, but he doesn’t return my smile. “Good morning.” His voice is soft and almost sad.

“Are you all right?” I ask with genuine concern. “Are you ill?”

“No, not all.” His gentle smile chases my worries away. “I just have a tough day ahead, and I’m trying to plan things.”

“I won’t bother you then. We can talk later.” I step back to turn around, but he takes my hand.

“Please stay. I have been up all night planning, so I can use a break and enjoy your company.” His voice and eyes ache with pleading.

For the next half hour, we chat about ordinary things. When he stands up to leave, our eyes meet, and the endless longing in his arouses warmth inside me. I desperately want him to kiss me again, to feel his lips on mine, but he turns away and leaves.

I get myself busy with children through the rest of the day and manage to not think about him at all. However, when he is not back for supper and not even for the night, worries keep me awake.

“Finn didn’t get back last night,” I say in the morning to Mrs. Kowalska, who just entered the kitchen with a wicker basket in her hand.

“I noticed that.” I help her put away a loaf of black bread, two tiny portions of beetroot-colored marmalade, and lard. That would have to last us a whole week if not for Finn’s help and Mrs. Kowalska’s savviness. I’m surprised she was able to get so much food after only one outing. It’s ridiculous how little produce we are allowed to purchase with the ration cards.

She sighs. “I take it he spent the night with that evil woman.” There is a trace of disapproval in her voice.

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