Title: Season’s Greetings
by Tesni Oteme
It was about to be dinnertime, but they were not nearly as done as Simon wanted. The warehouse was less disgusting, hollow with all pallets, fiber, and boards still to be loaded, and there was no sense of accomplishment to counter the simmer of frustration. In direct contrast, Mikhael went on filling the empty space with chatter, echoes of the latest success of his athletic daughter overlapping the determination of his pianist son.
The only reason Simon didn’t snap for silence, aside from the fact that normally he would be interested, was that Mikhael never paused or slowed through the process of moving everything out of the warehouse, hosing the floor and walls and now, squeegeeing the last corner in a tag team out the rear door. Also, Mikhael refused to acknowledge or be lowered by Simon’s scowling attitude.
There wasn’t a distinct sound over the scrape of rubber and water across pitted cement, but there must have been some threshold steps or scuffing. There was no other reason for Simon to turn abruptly toward the wide loading door at the opposite corner of the warehouse. The white frame of the sky left an indistinct silhouette of the person stopped at the entrance, the gloom of the old yellow lights far overhead offering no help. Simon lifted his squeegee, drawing Mikhael’s attention and a pause to his ramble, turned to the new arrival.
With two more steps, Simon knew exactly who found them, and a calm mute settled across the rattle of his mind.
“April,” he murmured, the deep rumble of his voice carrying. “Welcome back.”
“You’re here already?” Mikhael’s stride was quicker than Simon’s. “Why did I think you were later in the week?”
“Wishful thinking?” she answered, but opened her arms to accept his brief hug. “I told Nan I wanted to be here as soon as possible.”
“Why, you think you get to leave sooner?” Simon tried to joke in the question, but the flat pitch from his throat failed the intent, and it showed in the level gaze April met with him.
A fraction of a second, and she still smiled, moved closer to embrace him in greeting. “I told Nan I wanted to be here asap. I’ll go when I’m ready, how ’bout that.”
A deep scent like cedar rose faintly from her hair despite a day and a half of travel. Simon dropped his arms and stepped quickly back from his desire to press his nose closer to her crown. If April noticed, she didn’t show it.
“It’s going to be a big season,” Mikhael interjected, propping himself with his squeegee. “You can’t leave before we’re done.”
April raised one brow in a high arch, adding to the sharp angling of her facial structure. “You know better than can or can’t with me, or making promises you have no power over.”
“It’s predicted to be an excellent season,” Mikhael modified with a sarcastic, abbreviated bow. “Please, oh please, mistress, don’t dangle us in suffering.”
“Oh shut up. You’re going to suffer right here and now without me, Tanaka told me I can’t do anything before orientation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place completely empty. I didn’t even know there was a door there.”
“We’re just about done,” Simon said, turning away to finish. “When is the orientation?”
“Eight tomorrow.” There was something keen and particular in her gaze as she caught his glance directly again. He wasn’t sure if she knew. Poison and shame flared in his chest and he faced away from her and Mikhael completely. “I’ll let you be, see you guys at dinner.”
“Mmm, dinner, do you know what it is?” Mikhael did not immediately follow Simon back to the far corner to finish getting the water out.
“I just landed half an hour ago, why don’t you know?”
“I thought you knew everything.”
“Ah, there was your error, you had a thought. What was last night?”
“Turkey dinner and pasta salad.”
“Hm. Should be something beef, something eggplant, and definitely rolls.”
“Stake?” They didn’t react or move their conversation when Simon added the rubber-wet-concrete skid-scrape to the reverberations around the walls
“Oh, come on.”
“No, you come on. It’s going to be a long season. Spaghetti and ham.”
“Not a chance, pack of cigarettes.”
“Too easy, done. Now go away or you’re going to squeegee unpaid with us.”
“Hah. So funny. Much joke.” Her footsteps were not audible, but Simon knew with unsettling certainty when she left. Mikhael was humming with some self-satisfaction as he strolled back to help get the last bits out.
Thank you for reading.