Page 17 of Coach
“That’s really neat. I don’t really have that inner vision. I’m big on idea boards online. Once I see it, I can make it. But I’m not the kind of person who can look at a room and just envision what I want without a reference.”
“Eh, you probably just doubt yourself too much. I bet if you let yourself, you could create something out of thin air.”
“You have more faith in me than I do.”
“What’s the worst that could happen? It comes out ugly? So what?”
“Oh, but that’s assuming I’m not a bit of a perfectionist.”
“You’ll get to perfect through the practice.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, thinking of the piles of faux stained glass supplies I had sitting around. I’d been waiting to find something online that I could print at the library and use as a grid. What would it hurt to just… give it a try without the reference?
“So what is this?” I asked, walking over to a big box Coach had been putting together.
“A nightstand. I have to make another too. Ran out of wood.”
“For yourself?”
“No. This is for Saint downstairs. He’s going to be joining the club. I have a feeling his little brother might be joining as well. So, I will need to add a desk or dresser to my list of projects.”
“That’s a really thoughtful gift. And, I mean, real wood. Nothing is ever real wood these days. I’ve been in and out of all the nearby secondhand stores and garage sales trying to find a real wood dining table. I have a very small dining room. I can maybe only do a two-seater. Everything I’ve come across has been too big. I’ve been eating on a TV dinner stand because I refuse to compromise.”
Even if, logically, I knew it was crazy of me to be so specific. At any point, with literally no warning, I might need to throw the essentials in the trunk, grab Trix, and run. Leaving all these items I’d lovingly curated behind. The more I worked to find something, the more I loved it because of that search, the harder it was going to be to leave it behind.
“You okay?” Coach asked.
I looked over, finding him watching me with his head tilted to the side. Like he could sense the negative thoughts. Hell, maybe he could. I’d always envied spiritual people. I never had a solid grasp on any set belief about the world.
“Yeah. Thanks for showing me all this.”
“If you ever need a tool, you know where to find them,” he said, waving toward all the storage chests.
“And if you ever need a good inspiration board, you know where to find me. So, how long have you been living here?”
“A few years.”
“Where do you work in town?”
“I work here.”
“Here?”
“At the club.”
“Oh. I thought this was more of a social thing. That seems really convenient. You work where you live and where you hang with friends. Or does it feel suffocating?”
“That’s where the yoga and meditation and even long walks come into play.”
“I know a thing or two about long walks,” I agreed as we made our way back to the elevator. “My dog. She insists on several really long walks a day. Even though she’s super furry and it’s so hot here.”
“What kind of dog is she?”
“She’s an Akita.”
“Purebred?”
“Yeah. I was shocked to find her in the shelter. She’s beautiful. Even if she’s a little… particular.”
