Page 86 of Seth
By the time he returned home, his watch had buzzed twelve times. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until he stood under the piercing streams of the shower, with his head thrown back and mouth greedily gulping water.
When he left the shower cubicle, his head tingled with freshness. With a critical eye, he once again examined himself and the van. After finding no scratches, he gathered his ruined clothes, boots, and the shovel’s handle and brought it to the basement to put everything in the furnace.
In twenty minutes, he was already in bed, catching up on oh so needed sleep.
During the followingthree days,Arnold Alby called twice. Once, to inform Seth that the last shipment of neodymium glass had arrived and the construction would be finished in time. The second call was to invite Seth to the launch party happening in two weeks. And just like that, Seth returned to his daily routine and glass blowing.
Seth’s hand, once again, needed constant attention. To avoid disturbing the newly growing skin, he had to wear a glove at all times. Ignaz agreed to stay longer and found the glass sculpting process fascinating. More often than not, he sat in the basement, watching Seth work. When he was in high spirits, like today, he climbed on a workbench with his knees tugged to his chest and read a book aloud. At moments like these, Seth wished time would stop.
Even now, twirling a glowing mass of molten glass on the blowpipe, he couldn’t suppress a dreamy smile as he listened to the calming voice reading a fantasy book. He couldn’t remember the title and barely paid attention to the plot. What he didn’t miss were the clutching fingers around the hardcover, hastened words when the plot entered another twist, and audible swallowing probably caused by dry air. Seth’s mind blanked as he submerged into a meditative trance.
At some point, Ignaz stopped reading. A longing to hear him again shook Seth out of his daze. He lifted his chin.
“How did you learn to do it? Aren’t you an architect? It’s like magic.”
Seth glanced at the refined thread of glass with rose-like thorns. It flared with reflected fire.
“From my dad. Glassblowing was his hobby.” Seth put the piece of barbed wire in the kiln and beckoned the boy with his hand. An uncertain smile stretched Ignaz’s lips. He lowered one foot, then the other. The book flopped down on the workbench. Seth looked up and down the metal rack. Finding the pile of spare clothing, he grabbed the heavy leather boots and a linen shirt from the lower shelf, then offered them to Ignaz.
The blond wavered before grabbing the pile with both hands. Impatiently, as if fearing Seth would change his mind, he shoved his feet into the few sizes too-big shoes.
Leaving him to struggle with the shirt, Seth removed the remaining glass from the furnace and poured in a new portion of clear silica sand.
When he faced Ignaz again, the boy tried to roll up the too-long sleeves. Seth stepped closer and helped adjust the length, then squatted down and laced his boots.
“What’s next?” Ignaz mouthed, watching Seth with owlish eyes. The thirst splashing inside his eyes sucked on Seth’s soul.
“You stir.” Seth straightened, shrugged, and offered Ignaz a blowpipe.
They waited in silence for the sand to melt. When a white glow settled in the chunk of molten glass, Seth wrapped his arms around Ignaz’s shoulders. Their fingers linked. Clasped with four hands, the blowpipe rotated, twirling the glass. Ignaz tensed, then relaxed. He leaned back, delegating his weight to Seth. His muscles slackened as he let Seth lead him through the process of creation.
Seth’s head lightened; heart speeding up as elation filled his soul. Like in a dance, his hands slipped along Ignaz’s arms, and he couldn’t stop looking at his partner’s face while guiding him through the song that lasted until the glass hardened.
Without any resistance, Ignaz let him lead. His head bumped against Seth’s shoulder as he kept just enough strength in his arms to follow his directions.Was this how he’d submitted to his former master?Beautifully. Fully. Trustingly. At that moment, more than anything, Seth wanted to see his submission. To accept whatever Seth gave with gratitude.
Leading Ignaz’s body, he twisted and tugged glass without looking at the lump because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Ignaz’s face, glowing brighter than glass. At that moment, a very calm thought touched his mind.He is the one. He has to be.
“What do you want to create?” Seth’s face brushed against the side of Ignaz’s head, and the deep, hazy aroma of his own shampoo washed over him.Yes, he must be the one.
“Can it be anything?”
“Anything.”
“Then a bird?”
“Why a bird?” Seth asked, keeping the rod in Ignaz’s hands in constant motion.
“They can fly. They take off and never look back. It’s like starting a new life, don’t you think?”
Seth scowled at the odd thought, but his hands moved, guiding Ignaz toward the stand with colored sand. He’d never considered glassblowing erotic, but as he colored and molded the glass with Ignaz’s hands, he thought that, in a way, it resembled passionate sex.
When they relocated to the marver1, not a sliver of space separated them, only two layers of clothes. Their fingers interlinked around the tongs and formed a long body with a curved chest. They worked in tandem, using shears and tongs to form and cut the glass, which developed a brownish hue as it cooled.
Seth added chunks of glass to form the head and wings. Working through another pair of hands was harder than he expected. His gaze, as if spellbound, time after time strayed to Ignaz. The bird turned out far from perfect. It had bubbles in it from poor stirring, and the color didn’t blend evenly, but still, Seth felt the soul in it. Ignaz seemed to see it too. His eyes widened, lips parted, and a pure, spiritual expression overtook his pale face. His darkness dispersed, and for the first time, Seth managed to see his soul untainted. In the depth of his eyes, the unbounded sea splashed, and Seth’s desert thrived in it, quenching its thirst. For the first time in months, he felt alive, whole, healing.
“Seth, this is so pretty…”
The tongs clanged against the metal bench after Seth separated the figurine from the blowpipe. The deep-brown scythe-like wings and a short, forked tail glittered with golden sparks. The streamlined form of its head merged into the pale throat. The bird held its wings wide open as it sat on his gloved hand.
