Separate Ways
“We’re out of blue and yellow,” said Katie, walking out of our studio’s supply closet, carrying a sheet of red glass.
“Already?” I asked in disbelieve. “But I just bought a crate of both.”
“Hon', with as many daffodil panels as we have been asked to do, it doesn’t surprise me at all.”
I sighed and looked at my current project in annoyance. I needed those two colors to finish it. Gathering my purse and jacket I walked to the studios door.
“Where are you going?” asked Katie, her safety glasses sitting on top of her head.
“To Mandarin House…buying more glass.”
“I’ll go with you, we need to discuss something.”
I gave her a questioning glance but thought nothing more of it. Since her husband had died she had had it rough. The only thing that kept her from falling apart at the seams was our business. But she had seemed even more withdrawn these days. And most of the clients she took on I had never heard of.
“So what’s on your mind?” I asked as I stuck the car key into the ignition and started my Truck. The Truck was my pride and joy, and was identical to Katie’s. The only difference was that she had our logo painted on the tailgate.
“I’m thinking about starting my own business.”
Her words hung heavily in the air. “Why? We’re doing so well right now.”
“Exactly. I will be easier for me to start my own when we’re doing well. That way I won’t have to take a loan from the bank.”
“I see. And you have to start your own business because why?”
Katie sighed. "Because it's just something I feel like I need to do. Doing this business with you is great, don't get me wrong, but I keep feeling like the business is more yours then ours. I just...kinda need my own thing, you know?"
"I see."
“Please don’t be mad at me. You’re my best friend.”
“I’m not mad,” I lied. “I think it’s a great idea.” I was lying through my teeth, and was sure that she could tell. But if she did, she said nothing.
The rest of the ride to Mandarin House was silent. She switched on the radio, and its music was like a brick wall erected between us. There was no further talking to her. The parking lot of the store was relatively empty safe for the owner’s car and her employee’s motorcycle. Katie got out of the car and shut the door firmly. Without another word she walked up the ramp and into the store.
“You’re back so early!” Mattie the owner said with a grin when I walked in the door, her southern drawl washing over me like syrup.
“I know. We ran out of blue and yellow,” I said walking up and down the isles looking at the different sheets of glass. “Hey Mattie could you give us a basic crate of glass?” I asked walking back to the front counter.
“A basic crate? Well sure darlin’ but why in the world would you need that?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Her eyes widened as her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’.
An hour later we stood at the front counter again. The basic crate was piled on top a blue and yellow glass crate. We had somehow managed to balance several boxes of other supplies on top of it all.
“That will be two thousand dollars, darlin’s.”
I pulled out my credit card and handed it to Mattie before Katie could reach for her back pocket. Mattie helped us with our things, and with everything loaded safely in the back of my truck and tied down, we headed back to the studio. The radio wasn’t much help now. Most of the songs were How-could-you-do-that-to-me songs. They made me feel worst.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” I lied again. I wanted to strangle the wind out of her for just leaving, but figured it wouldn’t go over well. “Do you have a place already?”
“Kind of. I need to give the landlord three hundred bucks before I start using the space.”
“I see.”
The radio gave off static. We turned it back off.
“Should we load you’re things on your truck? You could park it in the garage.”
“Sure.”
We worked silently. It seemed to have become our newest thing; silence. I walked into the studio and began collecting all her things into boxes, along with some extra things I knew she would need, as well as the crate of basics. I wrote a check for three hundred dollars and laid it on the lid of the last box.
“I can’t take this Nici,” Katie protested when she saw the check.
“Sure you can. I rub your back, you rub mine.” I smiled and watched her close the tailgate. “Stop by soon. I want to know how it’s all going.”
“I will.” Katie gave me a long hug. “Thanks for everything.”
She drove off and stuck her hand out the window to wave before she pulled into the road. I waved back and watched the truck vanish behind a row of houses. Walking into the studio I saw a finished stained glass window we had done together years ago; it was by far the ugliest piece we had ever done. I picked up a rock just outside the door and threw it at the piece. I missed. It was probably for the best. Nothing could break our friendship.
