I believe Jesse and Ramona have gotten off to a very good start. Danit agrees with me—she is encouraging me to keep a close eye on them, of course, but she is optimistic.
But I am getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I haven’t had the chance to tell you about Ramona yet.
She is a lovely woman, her pale hair cut short, her frame thin but strong. I am a bit unclear as to what she does for a living, but it is something to do with fixing things and making things right again, of which we should all approve. She comes from far away from Albany, where Jesse lives—her home is in Norway, but she moved to America with an old boyfriend who is now long gone. Poor Ramona has many boyfriends who are long gone, some who hurt her, some who didn’t care enough to hurt her. She moves in a shadow of resignation and the sound belief that she never deserved to be loved anyway. I hurt for her.
She was coming to Jesse because she wants a gift for her mother back in Norway, who collects pottery. A mutual friend, Peter, proposed that she come to Jesse’s home to see his work.
Jesse was nervous, not by the prospect of meeting a woman, but by the first opportunity he has had to sell his work. This was important to him, because money is a prison for many humans. They do what they do not like in order to gain money, which they need to survive in the world. Some have work that pleases them, but many do not and must confine their passions to spare time. It seems careless management to me, but then, it is not my place to question. I leave that to the Fortunes.
So it was that Jesse was pacing in his sitting room when there was a knock at the door. I watched him take a deep breath, smooth his expression, and cross to the door. He opened it.
“Hello, Jesse,” Peter said. I like Peter—he is a small man with much energy, and his heart is a warm lamp of compassion. “Meet Ramona Bishop.”
Jesse signed a hello and held out his hand to Ramona. Jesse motioned for them both to come in, and used his hands to ask if they wanted something to drink.
“No, thanks, we had breakfast before we came over,” Peter said, signing as he spoke.
Oh, I never said—Jesse is deaf. He was born this way, so he is forced to use his hands to communicate. It is quite nice to watch, really—I can see the words take shape in the air, like shadows behind his hands.
“You have a lovely home,” Ramona said, and she was wondering whether she had tracked mud onto the carpet, or whether the smell of her last cigarette was overpowering.
After a moment of light conversation—“chatting”, they call it—Jesse indicated that his guests could follow him to the studio. I followed them as well, ducking through the small house to the garage[1] he has converted.
As Jesse rarely gives away his work, most of it lines the walls on shelves. There are delicate china vases, bottles with long necks, lidded jars and cups with flaring rims. Every shape is different, most painted with sweeping lines that suggest birds or other animals.
Truly, art is a wonderful thing. Every artist has a different vision, and so they re-create whatever they see into something new.
Ramona was very impressed by the work, enough that she forgot herself for a moment. She picked up one of the vases, then set it down, worried that she might drop it. “This looks a grosbeak,” she said, tracing the painted outline. “You don’t see many of this kind this far east.”
Jesse nodded and signed an explanation that he had made that piece after a vacation to the west to visit his in-laws.
“Oh, you’re married?” There was dismay in Ramona’s mind, if not in her voice.
Not anymore, Jesse signed with a sad smile.
Peter translated this, then explained, “Victoria died four years ago.”
“Oh, no,” Ramona said, and this time the dismay was clearly audible. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Thank you, Jesse said, and he noticed how sincere she was. Many people he has met only say the words because they are expected.
Ramona looked back at the art, moving on to a bowl with small, fat red birds around its rim. “You know,” she said, “there’s a level of symbolism with birds. Cardinals are signs of renewal and realized self-worth.” She points back to the piece with the grosbeak. “Grosbeaks are for healing the heart. It says a lot about you that you bring so much positive energy into your work.”
It was a perfect opportunity, and so simple to reach out then and touch both of them. I whispered that this was exactly what they both needed, and how easy it would be to give it to one another.
Jesse smiled and signed, You seem to know very much about birds.
“Oh, well,” she said, her face reddening, but she smiled, too. “Yes, I like to watch them when I get the chance.”
There is a flock of geese that sometimes comes to the pond behind my house. You should come and see them sometime.
Peter was smiling as he translated this—he had hoped that something like this might happen. He knew, like I did, that it would be bad to push them, however. Jesse is still caught up in his sorrow, and Ramona is afraid to believe in another man. But they have exchanged numbers, and as Ramona was driving home, having bought the bowl with the cardinals, she was thinking about taking a class to learn sign language.
I am pleased with the work, but I know that I got very lucky. Most provisional cases are not so simple, and this one may yet have some surprises for me. I will keep an eye out, and we shall see what happens. For myself, of course, I wish them the very best.
[1] Normally a home for automobiles or ‘cars’ which the humans use for transportation. This one, at least, has open space and good light, and I personally believe that it is a better home for art than for cars.