Page 6 of The Art of Professing Love

“Here, take my hand,” he said. “I’m assuming you can’t use those in that shape?” He gestured at the two pieces of my eyeglasses that I held onto limply.

“No, I can’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t trip again.”

We walked for another few minutes until we reached a bend in the path and Sylvan pointed ahead.

“See that light through the trees?”

I nodded. “Yes, I can see it, although it’s quite blurry.”

“Ah, the glasses. Right. Well, that’s the light from my cabin. If you just step through the trees here –“ he led me through a patch of tall, spindly trees with splotchy white and brown bark– “we can go inside and see about fixing your face and glasses.”

I paused to take in the view around me. Everything blended into a sea of dark, blurry colors, but I was able to make out orbs of light flitting throughout the clearing. Fireflies. Strings of lights hung along the cabin eaves, spinning around in the gentle evening breeze. The cabin itself was small and unassuming, the perfect size for a fae living alone, and quite far from the perfect size for two grown men to live in.

Sylvan helped me up the steps and opened the door, allowing me to go inside the warm, cozy room first.

“You don’t keep your door locked?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Why would I? The only strangers out here are the animals who share the woods with me, and they’ve never tried to get inside before – well, there was that raccoon…but he used the window. And a bear managed to turn the knob, but he never quite made it in before I put a stop to his trespassing. And an opossum gave birth by the fireplace in here once, but I brought her inside after I found her on my doorstep. Don’t worry, I evicted her and her children once they were old enough to fend for themselves. They still come to visit once in a while, but they never stay for more than a day.”

I shook my head. “You’re off your rocker.”

“Maybe so.” He shrugged. “As long as I’m happy and can keep others happy, I don’t care how sane I am. Here, sit down on the couch and I’ll bring you some ointment for that cut and glue for your glasses. Do you drink tea?”

“Actually, I’m quite fond of a good cup of tea.”

“I’ll make us some after I get you sorted, then.”

Sylvan disappeared into the only other room in the house, which I assumed was the bathroom. Everything else was part of the main space of the cabin, including his bed.

The bed was tucked against the wall, nestled in one corner. It had a colorful quilt draped over it and the window on the wall it was next to was wide open.

“No wonder he gets creatures living in his house,” I murmured. “He doesn’t even have a screen to keep the bugs and rodents out.”

Handmade pottery and art supplies littered the surfaces around me. Dried herbs hung in bundles over the kitchen counters and sink. He had a bookshelf along the wall opposite the bed and I was tempted to go over and look at the titles he owned, but without working glasses, they would be nothing more than a blob of color to my eyes.

Every other free space in the room was used for canvases of all sizes. Some were empty, but most looked like they’d been painted on and were waiting for the right person to come along and take them home. I wished I could see the pictures better, but Sylvan had just emerged from the bathroom with some bandages and was busy making tea now, and I wasn’t about to disrupt him and cause him to take twice as long to finish his tasks.

“Here we are,” he said, setting down a tea tray on the coffee table after clearing away a stray book and some dried lavender. “It’s a blend I made myself last year – I hope you don’t mind.”

“Contrary to what you think about me, I don’t mind trying new things,” I replied. “I’m cautious, that’s all.”

“I take it you’ve had experiences to make you that way?”

“Perhaps, but let’s not talk about the past tonight.” I took a sip of the tea, a sweet, spiced blend that exploded in my mouth. I quite liked it.

“I understand.” Sylvan sat down next to me, procuring some small items from his pocket. “Let me fix you up, and then we can chat about whatever you’d like – the past, the present, the future, even.”

5

SYLVAN

Iwas careful not to hurt Irving, even though the cut on his cheek was little more than a scratch. I never wanted to hurt anyone, let alone someone I hardly knew who already detested me. The glasses proved a tricker fix, with the break being right along the nose where a great deal of pressure was naturally placed.

I glued the two pieces back together, but that would never be enough. They would surely snap again after a few minutes, and if I didn’t fix them properly, Irving was liable to explode with anger.

“Let’s try this,” I said, wrapping some twine around the glued section.

---