Previous Episode | Facebook | Next Episode
Otto was snoozing gently when a clatter of boots on the metal stairs made him wake with a grunt. In a corner of the studio, Eddie turned idly in an office chair, his legs slack, his finger floating to mark unheard music. Otto lurched to block his sculpture from view as Eddie leapt to his feet, beaming.
“There’s my girl. You’ve got a discerning clientele, love.”
Eddie snatched a check off the corner of a desk and snapped it crisply.
“I’ll take–” Sushi broke off. “Otto? What are you doing here?”
He shrugged a little guiltily.
“Nothing. Just–” He shuffled uneasily against the desk. “Nothing.”
“What’s behind you?”
Otto’s eyes darted to Eddie, who shrugged and gave an encouraging nod.
“I don’t really…”
“Oh, just let me see it,” Sushi cajoled. “Is it another one of your gnomunculi?”
He swallowed and shook his head tightly. Moments flashed through his mind, memories of all the times he’d teased Sushi for all her flaky talk about the vulnerability of artists and how hard it is to keep “putting yourself out there,” whatever that meant, and the emotional toll of her art. He’d always laughed it off as Sushi just being Sushi, all fire and drama and artistic license. But suddenly he understood.
“It’s your next lesson, Big Boy,” Eddie chimed in. “Weakness is victory.”
Otto gulped again. He could feel his face turning red. But the fire in Sushi’s eyes captured him again. Her whole being vibrated with life and desire and fearlessness– no, with the joy beyond fear. A solemn feeling settled over Otto, deep and bright and very grown up.
“Ok,” he said, and stepped aside. Sushi gasped. He watched her intently and was surprised to see a tear forming in her oak-brown eyes.
“You…made this?” she asked.
He nodded.
“But– It’s me.”
He nodded again, feeling drained and satisfied. It was the feeling he used to get from a large and well-executed raid, but all through him, not just behind the eyes.
The bust of Sushi behind him was a little smaller than life-sized and exceedingly pure.
