I feel like I haven't slept all night. After showering and brushing my teeth, I go downstairs to the kitchen where I find a note from Mom that says, "I have to take care of some things about the store in town. I'll be back before dinner." She left some scrambled eggs in the pan and coffee, so I put everything in the fridge. I text Mirian and make sure she replies before I get to her house -Come in through the patio- her message says. I walk around the garage, through the patio, and there's a storage room with the door open — Mirian?
— Hi! — she says, peeking out — I was thinking about working on a set of personalized mugs, but I don't think I have enough clay. Would you like to come with me?
— Of course.
We drive to a street and continue walking to a plaza surrounded by shops and so many stalls that people are a bit crowded trying to get around. — Here — she says, taking my hand, and we go into a shop. I see several shelves of colored clay, figurines, and vases.
— Hi, long time no see! — I hear the cashier say — I thought you'd given up the trade.
— Actually, quite the opposite. I think I'll finally be able to open a shop in town this year — Miriam says — Do you have stoneware clay?
— Right away.
— Do you want to learn how to make clay pieces? — Mirian asks from beside me. I put the figure I'm holding back. — I can teach you.
— Here it is — the cashier says, walking through the door with several packages of clay. — Hi, Marco. How's everything going?
— Hi.
— I think we'll get some red clay too — Mirian says. The girl nods with a smile and goes back to the storage room.
— Where do you plan to put the shop? — I ask once we're back in the car.
— I was thinking of putting it in the plaza to get more visibility, but I think if I find a spot in the surrounding blocks, it'll be perfect.
— Why don't you open one in the city? There are more people, more opportunities to expand your clientele.
— But I'd have to spend a lot of money.
— You have the money from the house you sold. If you get an apartment with a shop in the city, you wouldn't have to worry about commuting.
— And have you thought about moving back to the city? — she asks — You have a job waiting for you there.
— After a year? I don't think so.
— You're a doctor, there's surely a position for you at any hospital or private clinic — Mirian says.
— I'm not sure about going back to the city. I think I've completely lost that part of my life — I say.
— Uh-huh — she nods, her eyes on the road. From there, the drive was silent until we arrived at her house. Before entering her workshop, Mirian insists I use an old shirt and sweatshirt of her dad's to start. — What would you like to make?
— A vase.
— We can start with something simpler, like a decorative figure. Because throwing on the wheel could take us all day — she says. Mirian gives me instructions on how to cut the clay, throw it to remove air bubbles, flatten it, and shape it, constantly wetting my hands to prevent the clay from drying out. I managed to shape a small elephant with a cowboy hat. — Now, we wait for it to dry for about two days so it's no longer damp inside and doesn't crack.
— Then we can start on the wheel tomorrow — I say. She smiles and nods.
— I'm a little hungry. Do you want some rice with vegetables?
— No, actually, I should go home now. My mom has been a little anxious since we got back from the hospital, and I don't want to worry her — I say. — I hope she remembers I'm an adult soon.
Miria's smile widens, and she kisses me on the cheek. — I don't blame her — she says. Her smile fades slowly, and her eyes seem to shine a little brighter. I hug her, and we kiss before I leave.
It's three in the morning; in this silence, the birds and crickets are much more audible. I grew up in this town, used to the sounds of the night and the cold, sunless afternoons. In Felidia, the sun only shines for three hours in the morning, and then you can't feel it anymore. Rain isn't common, but when it comes, it's freezing and heavy.
I haven't slept well since I saw the deformed silhouette in front of me. I look into the dark corners of the room and panic fills me. I can feel something watching me from there, as if it were everywhere, observing. I can still remember its snoring in my ear. Now that I can't see it, it feels closer, along with the heavy footsteps that keep echoing through the house.
What I find most strange is being able to see every corner of the room in the dark and still not being able to clearly visualize the figure. It's like a huge, shapeless shadow.
A dog barks, and it's a relief because silence follows, a silence in which I can close my eyes and think that it's all just part of my imagination.
— Did you sleep well? — Mom asks.
— Deeply — I say. I'm trying to finish the blueberry pancakes.
— Will you help me make soaps for the shop? I'm thinking of launching a new fragrance or two.
— No, I'll spend the day with Mirian.
— That's why you're up so early — she comments, taking a sip of her coffee — You can stay at her place tonight if you want. I heard George will be back the day after tomorrow.
— I gotta go now — I say, standing up. She glances at my plate but doesn't say anything.
— Let me give you a ride.
— The walk is good for my legs — I say before closing the door. When I arrive at Mirian's house, I see her finishing breakfast, and we head to her workshop. Using the potter's wheel is harder than I thought, and I struggle to lift and lower the clay with my hands. I practice my hand position and the pressure I apply while I watch her make four cups in one morning.
After lunch, I continue exercising while she continues with her work. When it gets dark, we decide to move on to the next class tomorrow. Suddenly, a memory of my mom surrounded by several people, blowing out the candles on a cake I place in front of her, comes to mind.
— My mom's birthday is coming up. Maybe I could make her a mug for her coffee.
— You'll learn quickly if you keep coming often.
— I know Grandma and Grandpa would love to have figurines of...
— What kind of figurines?
— Kittens. They loved kittens — I say. I feel a tear wet my cheek, but she wipes it away with her warm hands. — I remember when Nela died, they refused to adopt another cat because they didn't want to feel like they were replacing her. The week I traveled to visit them, I brought a very small one; they named him Puntitas. My grandmother cried tears of joy when he meowed — I say, smiling at the memory.
— What remains are the moments you shared with them, and that can also be what helps us move forward — Mirian says. She wraps her arms around my back, rests her face against my chest, and I can't help but cry like a child.
— I think it's best if I go home — I say, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. Suddenly, thunder rumbles, and a downpour begins.
— How about you stay the night? — she asks when she breaks the embrace.
— Good idea — I say, brushing her curls away from her face.
When we went up to her part of the house, she gave me a sweatshirt so I could sleep comfortably, so I changed while she went into the bathroom and lay down on the sofa. — Why don't you come sleep here? — Mirian says. I notice she's wearing rather short pajamas when I see her get under the covers. I do as she asks and lay down next to her. She falls asleep, but I remain staring at the ceiling until dawn.