North Haven by Sarah Moriarty

Author:Sarah Moriarty [Moriarty, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503941519
Publisher: Little A
Published: 2017-05-31T21:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

GWEN

July 8

The nursery faced northeast, which meant to catch the light they needed to work in the morning. Early. So at seven they barged in and shuffled Danny off to Gwen’s bed. His sleeping bag around him like a pelt, he looked like a cave man just ousted from his cave.

“The muse strikes,” she explained. “No way around it.”

“You’re a jerk,” he croaked. But he went, trailing his sleeping bag tail behind him. Gwen would’ve felt bad for him if she thought he’d stayed awake even five minutes after crawling into her bed.

After giving Melissa a few minutes, Gwen knocked on the nursery door and opened it a crack. “You decent, soon to be indecent?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” said Melissa. “Come on in.”

“Nice outfit,” said Gwen. Melissa wore a thin and faded hospital robe.

“From Brigham and Women’s, when Kerry was born. The swag was all so baby-centric, I had to take something for myself.”

Melissa sat on the edge of the cast-iron bed, its white paint peppering the floor around its legs. The sagging springs wheezed as Melissa crossed her legs. She leaned back on her hands while Gwen set up her materials: a small wooden easel; six tubes of watercolor of various sizes (three large: red, yellow, blue; three small: brown, black, white); and five brushes (one just a few bristles wide, something for fine detail; a fan; a large teardrop like the tip of a cat’s tail; a smaller version of the same thing; and one with flat, wide-angled bristles). Gwen chose brushes not based on their intended purpose but on how the shape struck her that day. She saw the shape of the tool itself, not just the quality of its mark, as part of the composition. She used a plastic white plate, often used for sandwiches and chips at lunch, and the empty egg tray from the fridge as her palettes. Gwen looked over her work area—the heavy-tooth paper taped to the easel, the large jar of water on the bureau, which was so clear and would soon be clouded and then black—then said, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Melissa slipped her robe from her shoulders and laid it tidily over the footboard of the bed next to her. Then she sat back down on the bare mattress that they had stripped after kicking poor Danny out.

Melissa adjusted the ancient down pillows beneath her head and shoulders. “No, the other way,” Gwen directed, pointing one finger at her and another at the bed and then moving them over each other. Now, with her head toward the foot of the bed, she lay down, letting one foot dangle over the edge of the mattress.

“Perfect. You comfortable there?”

Melissa nodded.

“Good, just holler if you need a break.”

Melissa scratched her nose, flexed and relaxed both feet, and then settled into the pillows and the trough of the horsehair mattress. After sharpening her pencil, Gwen began to lightly sketch in the curves of the bed frame, of Melissa’s hip, of the heel of that dangling foot.

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