Page 3 of Practice Makes Perfect

My brow furrows with concern. He’s never been chipper exactly, but I still don’t like thinking of Carter as feeling poorly. My chest feels tight at the thought of my hard-working wood maker being anything less than his normal, reservedly happy self. My hand finds its way to the space above my heart, resting there lightly to try and ease the ache. “Fine,” I exhale. “I’ll keep my online harassment to a minimum.”

“Thank you,” Jake says with more relief than I feel is warranted. My commenting is meant to be a confidence boost, but I don’t want to add stress to Carter’s life. It’s not like anything could ever happen between us anyway. For one, he’s up in the mountains while I’m here in the city. Secondly, we’re much too different. He’s a serious and responsible individual, and I’m good for fashion advice, a night at the club, and not much else. “I better get going. We still on for dinner when I come into town next month?”

“Sounds good,” I reply automatically. My thoughts are still stuck on my friend’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Billie,” Jake says. The end of the call brings my attention back to my office, my eyes roaming from my nearly empty desk to the stark gray walls and sparse shelves. The room is devoid of any artwork, knickknacks, or personal photos. Personal photos would require I have people to hang out with that are worthy of memorializing, and while I have a picture frame of me and Jake with our parents on the corner of my desk and one of him with Maya and JJ, no one else has made the cut.

A knock sounds at my door and my eyes roam over to my assistant, Cheryl. She’s the fifth assistant I’ve had this year and I have no hope for her lasting any longer than the others. It’s not them or me that’s the problem, but dealing with the constant influx of requests from clients and other people about where to go and what to do that drives them to quit. People around the office call my phone the “party line,” and they’re not far off. “Billie. The reps from the Sanderson Group called and wanted to know where you’ll meet them for dinner,” she says, adjusting her dark framed glasses. “Oh, and Tom Renfrey is on the line and wants to know if you could recommend a good wine bar for him to be photographed at.”

“Tom…?” I ask. Flipping through my mental Rolodex and coming up blank, I look over at my assistant for guidance on who the hell she is talking about. There are far too many people calling for this kind of information to be able to keep track of, but it would be bad for business for me to turn any of them down.

“Renfrey. You took him and another client out last month and he thought you might know the best place to go.” She looks about as tired as I feel, and it isn’t even 1:00 in the afternoon.

“Thanks, Cheryl. You can put him through,” I tell her. Plastering a fake smile on my face and trying to psych myself up for another conversation about wine bars and other nightlife activities that ultimately mean nothing to me anymore, I prepare to answer the call. It seems like all I do lately is fake it. I want to be more than the person you go to for a good time, but as I pick up the phone with false cheer in my voice, I fear that will probably never happen.

Chapter Three

Carter

Hodgepodge is quiet this afternoon. Too quiet. What I wouldn’t give for a customer rush right now to save me from my overthinking about how long the last few weeks have felt. Ever since Maya, Jake, and JJ moved out, it’s like time has started to drag from one dull moment to the next. My eyes roam around the shop and take in the various artisan pieces on display in a futile attempt to take my mind off my troubles. Pressed flower and white clay dishes stand out against the dark gray walls and I make a mental note to compliment Mrs. Hamstead, the creator of the pieces, the next time I see her.

Maybe I could hang out with some of the other local artisans to fill my abundance of free time. Maya extended a nightly dinner invitation to me before she moved out, but I can’t keep imposing upon her or her family to fill my loneliness. Once a week is enough. Besides, spending time in my childhood home still feels a bit odd. It’s the same house, but it feels very different, and it’s not the renovations that were done. It’s still strange to think of it as Maya’s house, and difficult to stay there without seeing ghosts of the past around every corner. Maybe I would feel differently if I had more of a future ahead of me, but I don’t.

My hand reaches down and picks at the frayed edge of my flannel shirt, the same flannel that belonged to my father. To some it might seem silly, especially since they are about a size too large for my frame, but wearing my dad’s shirts helps me feel closer to him. The man was a force of nature, shooting a smile over to anyone who looked his way and possessing an unmatched patience for those who wanted to bend his ear about his furniture, his Norwegian upbringing, or even something as mundane as the weather. Dad was larger than life in more ways than one, his personality shining through no matter what the occasion or his mood. That kind of presence isn’t something I think I’ll ever be able to live up to. Still, I like to think that he would be proud of me for carrying on with the business at least.

My gaze flicks to the wall where a wooden valknut hangs. It was one of the first pieces of décor my father created and added to the store once it was passed onto him and my mother by my grandfather. Staring at the three interlocking triangles that represent “family” has me wondering if my parents, and my father in particular, would be as pleased with my current single status as they would about the business. “Family first,” was my dad’s motto, and for a while I forgot about that. My parents’ death hit me pretty hard. Losing that kind of support and influence so suddenly was jarring to say the least, and for those first two years I kind of sunk into my grief. Working, eating, and trying to sleep were really the only things on my daily to-do list, but once Maya found out she was pregnant, I had to push through the pain of that loss and step up, once again embracing my father’s motto.

Maya tells me I did a good job, helping her when she was a single mom and being an attentive uncle to JJ, but I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have been thinking a bit more selfishly at times. I could have been there for my sister and nephew while also trying to take steps towards creating a family of my own. Of course, that would require putting myself out there and I’m still not sure that’s something I can do just yet. The desire is there, but my past experiences keep holding me back.

It’s been six years since my last date, and eight since the last time I had sex with another person. Hook-ups aren’t something I can do as it’s always been difficult for me to be with someone intimately without getting to know them better first. I had a girlfriend, Betty, in high school, but we were both always so busy that we did little more than hang out on occasion. We kissed and made-out, but we never came close to having sex, and when she moved after graduation, things naturally ended. After her, there was someone from my high school choir class that I reconnected with when she moved back home after graduating from college. We were decent friends in high school and fell back into a relationship easily enough, but it still took a good two months of dating before I felt connected to Jill enough to have sex. We broke up a few months later when she decided to move to Michigan for graduate school, but I doubt we would have lasted much longer anyway.

Our relationship was more platonic than romantic, neither of us really seeming to experience sparks of attraction when we were together. Since then, I’ve had a few first dates, but nothing more than that. I need to feel confident that the other person really cares about me before I can open myself up sexually, and most women aren’t willing to stick around that long, especially when you already aren’t living up to their expectations in other ways like looks or social ability. The one time I did feel that instant attraction was with Billie, and I wrote it off as a natural reaction to such a stunning woman. The moment I laid eyes on her my whole body felt flushed with a fever and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. When she smiled, it was like the fire spread to my heart and opened it up to a whole new world of possibilities. Before I had a chance to process any of that, Maya and I were whisking JJ home so she could deal with Jake’s reappearance, and that was that.

The shop bell chiming saves me from my pondering the strange occurrence with Billie any further and draws my attention to the front of the store. A well-dressed woman with strawberry blonde hair strolls in. She is conventionally attractive, but still, I don’t feel much beyond an appreciation for the aesthetic appeal of her symmetric features. “Good morning,” she calls out. Her melodic voice hits me first as she breezes towards the counter. “I have an order for pick-up. It’s under the name Montgomery.”

“Of course,” I tell her. Recognizing the name from the dual spiral stools I created just last week, I give her a friendly smile and verify her payment in the computer. “It looks like you’re all settled up and I have the finished product ready to go. I’ll be back in a minute.” Striding over to the back room, I grab a stool with each hand and carry them out to the front for inspection. “Here we are. Everything to your liking?”

Her eyes take a perusal over the stools. “Looks great. I love your work,” she gushes, smiling widely and batting her eyelashes at me. Maybe some stray saw dust came up from the stools or something. “Do you ever give private lessons?”

My brow furrows. “No, never. There are too many safety and liability issues for that,” I explain. Safety has always been a big concern for me, more so since we lost our parents. Logically, I know that a drunk driver has little to do with what goes on in my workshop, but it was a good reminder that one stupid mistake can have lasting consequences. “I think the town has workshops available if you’re really interested.”

The woman smiles, but looks disappointed. “Thanks. I’ll look into that, but if you change your mind, I’ll be around.” She grabs both of her stools and exits the shop, seeming a bit less excited about her purchase than she had moments ago.

“Oof. That was brutal.” I turn to see my sister holding my nephew in her arms as she leans against the side of the office door. “You do realize she was flirting with you, right?”

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I highly doubt that,” I tell my sister. My cheeks pull into a smile as I gaze over at my nephew who has the sleepy eyes of a toddler recently woken from his nap. My hand automatically reaches over to ruffle his curls and I’m rewarded with a giggle from JJ.

“Carter,” my sister sighs. She puts JJ down at the small play table we have set up for him in the office and pats his back. “You’re never going to meet someone if you don’t open yourself up to opportunities like the one you just had. She was pretty, seemed friendly. What was the problem?”

My shoulder bobs up and down quickly as I stare down at my feet. “I don’t know. She was fine, I guess.” My head knows that the woman was more than fine in almost anyone else’s eyes, but I need more than that. I want more than that. After waiting this long, I want the sparks of attraction as well as an ease of conversation, and while I know I need to take the first step in order to get to know someone better, it’s hard after so long of being out of the dating game. “It’s been a long time, Mai. I’m not comfortable in social situations, and beyond that, I’m not really sure how to go about dating exactly anyway. I hate the apps.”

Maya comes over and rubs my back lightly. “I’m know and I’m sorry. It sucks that it’s basically get on an app or cross your fingers and hope you literally run into your soulmate, but you never know,” she tells me. Her expression is hopeful and her piercing blue eyes shine brightly, but I don’t share her optimism. “Maybe you’ll find someone like I did.”

My eyes roll up to the ceiling and I huff out a breath. “Still trying to get me to make a wish in the fountain?” I ask, shaking my head. “Never going to happen.” What I won’t tell her is that the last time we went to the holiday lighting festival with our parents, I did make a wish to find my special someone. When my parents were killed the following morning, I kind of stopped believing in magic of any kind. Just because it happened for Maya doesn’t mean it will happen for me, and it’s been almost six years. If my special someone isn’t here already, I don’t think she ever will be.

Maya looks slightly disappointed in my declaration, but she leaves it for the time being. “Suit yourself,” she says with a knowing smile and walks back into the office. “More magic for me.”

“As if you need any more,” I call over to her, but she’s already busy playing with her son. Now that she’s back from lunch, I can get back to what I really enjoy doing. “I’m heading back to the workshop.” Maya simply waves at me over her shoulder to shoo me away.

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