Page 77 of Outside the Veil
“You’re shitting me.” Miriam stared at him.
“No, I’m not. He doesn’t usually drink it. Can’t stand the smell.” Diego had never lied outright to Miriam about Finn, but he had never told her what Finn truly was. As far as she knew, he was a gorgeous artist from Ireland whom Diego had picked up at some nightspot in New York. The time just never seemed right to tell her Finn was a magical being who should have been confined to folklore. He winced at the clatter from the back of the house.
“So why now?”
“He’s been having trouble staying awake this past week. Ever since the clouds rolled in—”
“Here it is!” Finn raced back in, a canvas clutched in both hands, a manic grin on his face. “Tell me what it is, dear lady, since I know some of them are difficult for hu— Ah, people to tell, but this one should be easy if you just look at—”
“Finn!” Diego shouted over him. “Take a breath.”
He drew in a deep breath, his trembling telegraphing to the canvas he held.
Miriam took a step closer to view the painting. On a background of summer-sky blue stood an indistinct white figure, roughly the shape of a one-handled rolling pin. Finn had experimented with white, finding to his great delight that there were myriadshadesof it, and the final effect was one of a glowing nimbus surrounding the central figure. He even signed the work with the ornate ‘F’ he had taught himself to write.
“It’s beautiful, hon. It’s an angel,” Miriam said with confidence.
Finn’s nervous laugh skittered from him. “An angel? No, it’s not that, since I’ve never seen one to know what they look like, do they really have those absurd bulky wings sprouting from their shoulders? I don’t think it’s bloody likely since they’d fall over backward with the damn heavy things, just too unbalanced, no, it’s Diego, the way I see him, he’s so lovely and, oh! There’s another one!”
He pressed the canvas into Diego’s hands and dashed away to the study again.
“This better wear off soon, or he’ll go into cardiac arrest,” Diego muttered.
“Maybe we should get him to a doctor.” Miriam’s expression hovered between worry and amusement.
“He won’t go. Hates doctors.”
They waited, but Finn did not return, and the sounds of rummaging from the back of the house had ceased long since. “Maybe we better check on him.”
Miriam agreed, and they made their way to the back of the house cautiously, in case Finn should come careening around a corner. They found him in his studio, curled in a ball on the rug, fast asleep.
“See?” Diego waved a hand in exasperation. “Like some weird form of seasonal narcolepsy.”
“Hmm.” Miriam rummaged in her suitcase-sized handbag. “Hardest damn caffeine crash I’ve ever seen. How hard will he be to wake up?”
“Very. You could shake him and yell at him… Miriam, what—? No, wait, don’t—”
The air horn blared before he could stop her from pressing the button. Finn jerked into a crouch, teeth bared, eyes glazed. He snarled, sniffed the air twice, crawled the few feet to Diego to put his head on his foot and went back to sleep.
“Shit. That’s not normal,” Miriam muttered.
“No kidding.” Diego fought not to roll his eyes. “Besides letting him sleep all the time, I don’t know what to do with him.”
“You can’t let him do that, kiddo. He’ll starve to death.” Miriam’s forehead creased in thought. “I’ve never seen it like this before, but I think maybe it’s SAD.”
“He’s not depressed, he’s sleeping.”
“Not sad, SAD—seasonal affective disorder. Hits a lot of people up here since the days get so short. Maybe he just needs a good sunlamp.”
That doesn’t explain it, Finn’s nocturnal.“He doesn’t—” Diego stopped on a thought. Nocturnal, yes, even with the adjustments he had made to Diego’s schedule, but every day possible, he took a long nap in the afternoon sun. With the sunlight reduced to five hours a day at best, and then down to nothing with all the snow, maybe it did explain the sudden need to hibernate.
“Dan’s probably got them at the hardware store,” Miriam offered. “I could run down there.”
“Hmm? Oh, no, Miriam, you just drove umpteen hours from the city. Would you stay with him for me? I’ll run down there since it looks like the snow’s stopped for now.”
With chains on the truck’s tires, Diego had gotten good at driving in the snow, deep in spots, but nothing like the slush and black ice of New York. Dan did indeed keep the right variety of sunlamps in stock, and Diego returned only a few hours later to a quiet house. Miriam had even mustered enough maternal instinct to tuck Finn in with pillows and blankets, though he remained on the floor.
“I hope this works.” Diego set up the lamp to shine directly on Finn then sat beside him to take his head in his lap. “Pobre amor. Please get better.”
