Six

I grabbed a pack of cheap cigars on my way to the studio and immediately headed for the workshop. I pulled the skateboard out from behind the ‘fridge, where it slept, waiting for thinking days. I rolled in circles, bumping gently into tables and walls, trailing blue smoke and thinking. I had a bit of something lurking in the back of my head, a remnant of the previous night’s drunken dreams and I was digging hard for it, but it was resisting, a deep root that didn’t want to come out. I puffed furiously and started riding faster. The skateboard was a relic I had dragged out of my parents garage one day and it had replaced the bicycle ride as my thinking platform. The rides had been great, but more often than not the ideas had come and gone by the time I got back to the studio. I found the skateboard simplified things.
I had a shape coalescing in my head and I was rounding the corner to my design table when an unexpected voice called from the door. I slid and fell backwards, landing sprawled by the large roll-up door. I looked over at Dawn standing in the door from the storefront.
“You startled me,” I said from the floor and hauled myself upright.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I snagged the skateboard with my foot and stepped back on and rolled towards her, “Thinking, what are you doing?”
She frowned, “I’m here because you told me to come back,” she glanced over at the table where she had been working.
“Well try not to kill me when you come in. Have you finished trimming?”
“No.”
“Well, you don’t need my help then, let me know when you finish,” I said and went back to rolling around.
“That thing stinks,” Dawn said as she hung her jacket on the coat rack.
“So does your perfume, but this is my studio,” I responded and rounded another corner. I rolled over to my design table and started sketching. I was vaguely aware of Dawn standing behind me for a while. I ignored her and kept drawing. After a while I heard the cutting wheel start up. I grunted and started pulling sheets off the shelf and prepping them. I lost myself in work until I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Eh, what?” I asked without turning around.
“It’s lunch time,” she said quietly.
“Kitchen corner is over there, or you can go out for lunch,” I gestured towards the fridge and the door.
“You should eat as well.”
I sighed and stretched my shoulders, “Maybe so,” I said. Realizing I was still on the skateboard, I pushed off and rolled over to the refrigerator. “I’ve got hummus in here, an avocado and boring ass ham and cheese.”
“Whatever you’re having,” she answered quietly. She was oddly subdued today and I found it more disturbing than the sudden mood shifts of the day before.
I spread hummus and avocado on bread and slapped a few slices of ham and cheese between them.
I tossed it on a paper plate and set it in front of her, “Beer, or wine?”
“With this? Beer please.”
I opened two bottles and sat down across from her.
“Good idea this,” I said around a mouthful of sandwich.
“What?” she looked confused.
“Eating,” I said and sipped my beer.
“You’re not so normal as I first thought.”
“Well, coming from you, I have no idea how to take that,” I took another bite and washed it down with more beer.
“What is with the skateboard and the cigar?”
“I don’t have a clue, I just know it works. You don’t fuck with that sort of success, not in this business. You change it when it stops working, otherwise you cling to the odd little things that prompt creation.”
“How did you end up doing this?” she asked.
“Eat your sandwich,” I said and skated back to my design table with sandwich and beer, “Questions can come after I’m done doing this.” I chewed, sipped and drew furiously.