Atlas

"I still don't understand why you chose this dump," I heard Nyra whisper more to herself than me. Sometimes she forgot how well I was always listening in.

"I like the quiet," I answered simply, placing more clay onto the spinning wheel. I heard her shift again in her seat, probably wanting to help out with this process... but she knew better. Nyra knew this was something I needed to do for myself, for many reasons.

"You can get the quiet anywhere!" She responded in that same frustrated tone. It was the tone Nyra always used with me after she had to help move all this stuff one studio to the next. "What was wrong with the last place?"

I thought back to my previous location on Chestnut Ln. The studio I once swore to Nyra would be the final spot to settle into. "It was still too large," I explained to her now, "too well known. I wanted a place that was tucked away. A place with no limited hours for work, and no one to disturb me." That last part was directed at Nyra as I turned my head to the direction I had heard her voice come from. The scoff she gave me let me know she got the message.

"If it wasn't for me, you'd be sitting on the floor of this studio playing with play dough."

That made me chuckle. "You act like I couldn't of just hired movers," I quipped back.

"Well you could've, but who else would've handled all these supplies and art pieces with such care?" She replied. That made me laugh even harder.

"You broke three pots, a pottery wheel, and the sculpture that was once in our city mayor's office. Should we circle back on what your definition of care is?" I heard the slight tapping of Nyra's feet besides me as she worked on a quick reply to that. The clay felt cold between my fingers as I slowly started to mold it against the platform.

"Okay so if I crunch the numbers, three moves and only three different things broken is not that bad. Not that bad at all," Nyra finally rushed out.

"Are you taking into account all three of those pots you broke?" I questioned.

"Technically I said three different things. Since those three pots are still part of the same category of items, those only count as one." This was her less than ideal response. This was what she settled on. Her defining moment.

Tell that to my manager, I almost spoke my thoughts aloud. According to him, each pot Nyra shattered was now worth almost seven grand. Of course that was information I wasnt telling Nyra, from fear she would have a heart attack if she knew the figures.

The damage had been done anyways, and it wasn't like Nyra had the money to pay me back. I just chalked it up to a very expensive moving fee, since she had helped me out with a lot.

"I don't think that's how it works," was all I managed to reply with. I always felt the grins Nyra gave me, and knew she must've been giving me one right now.

"This is probably the first time I've seen you in a studio for this long. I don't get why we couldn't of just set this all up in your home."

It was a valid question Nyra asked. There really wasn't much tying me to a studio space... besides the space itself.

"Home is home, and here is here," I explained finally. "I like the separation between the two. It helps me feel like-" I paused a moment, knowing this would be just heavy enough to end our little disagreement... but it was also the truth. "It helps me feel like my old self again."

Just as I said those words, I heard Nyra shift in her seat once more. The low sigh she released let me know that I had won this fight.

"I just- okay." She struggled to get out. The sound of her bumping against the table was loud, before she presumably stood up. "You do what's best for you. Just don't start acting like you don't know I'm terribly accident prone, when you ask me to help you move again."

I couldn't help but laugh at that as I glanced up in her general direction. She wasn't exactly wrong. Nyra never once promised any of these moves could go on without a hitch. "If everything makes it to the next move, I'll donate a piece to you."

"Donate two and you could have me set for life," Nyra replied playfully.

The smile managed to linger on my lips as I thought about that. Two of my art pieces could set most people up for life, but not Nyra. She had a very leisure lifestyle that often kept her in the hole, regardless of how many financial bailouts I've done. At this point, I had to cut her off from all my cash advances completely, but I still gave pretty generously for birthdays and holidays.

In return, Nyra was the first person I could call for anything. She was there for every exhibit, every move, every unexpected event... every surgery. She may have been one bonafide shopaholic, but she was my bonafide shopaholic.

"I think keeping me around is keeping you alive right now," I returned with friendly fire.

"I could say the same," she fired right back. It was something most people in her position probably wouldn't dream of telling someone with my impairment, but that was the beauty of our friendship. I didn't have to walk on eggshells around her, and she didn't have to walk on egg shells around me. We just got to be. "Anyways, weirdo- I gotta head back home. You sure you'll be alright here by yourself?"

This was just one of the many scenarios where I wish I could look her dead in her eyes and give her one serious stare down. "I'm just slapping clay onto a board, mother, I'm fine. I'll be sure to call if I've fallen and can't get up."

That got a laugh out of her. "Alright alright, I get it. Just checking. Tic will be here in a few hours to take you home, and I believe Dash is all done with his vet visit so he's waiting for you at home. I'll be back home tomorrow morning to get some things done around the house."

I could hear Nyra start to collect some of her things from the chair besides me, and the table behind me.

"You know I'm pretty capable of cleaning our home, right?" I asked her.

"Well why trouble those beautiful money making hands that got us this lovely spot in the first place?" She gave my clay covered hands a small pat, making sure not to disrupt my molding. "The least I could do is keep it clean."

I chuckled at that. Nyra wasn't the best at house chores, but I always appreciated the effort. I just ended up going over everything she did anyways though, so her carving time out to do the bare minimum was ridiculous in my eyes.

"If you say so," I replied, letting her give me a soft kiss on my cheek. She smelt like she always did: bubbly. Just a warm, sweet scent I could never quite put my finger on, but it suited her. Everything Nyra was and did seemed to suit her so well.

"Alright alight alright Matthew McConaughey, let me get out of here before you start trying to convince me to stay. I know my personality is a drug to some." She always left with some flair of a remark declaring my obsession with her, while knowing good and damn well I worked best alone.

But I put my hand to my forehead with just as much dramatics, "woe is me, woe is me. I shall do my best to survive."

The last thing I heard was her laughter, as she saw herself out. Though I preferred my own company, it was nice having someone else to talk to, regardless of it being just for a brief moment.

Nyra reminded me of someone. Someone I knew for what now felt like an eternity ago. Someone I cared for deeply.

It was nice to feel a presence like that again.

-

I lost track of time as I worked, I had a tendency to do that.

It was hard sometimes with the supportive circle I had... they never wanted to pull me from work when I got into the zone, which lead to no one calling for check ins.

Atticus had let me work here one day last week up until almost three in the morning. I thought I would maybe have to sleep here that night, but sure enough, as soon as that first ring went through the phone line, he was already on the other end asking if I was ready to go.

Maybe that's why it startled me when I heard the door to my studio open again.

Atticus always waited for me to call.

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