Splitting Axe: Has a sharp, tapered head that is easily able to cut into logs. Splits along the grain. Good for making kindling.
Austin tensed as Michael got into bed. He hoped that Michael would keep to his half. He wasn’t in the mood to be touched. He didn’t really want to be in the same room. He still couldn’t believe that Michael had sold the record collection.
They weren’t his to sell. Well not all of them. Technically Austin had gifted his meagre collection of ten vinyl disks to Michael, but that was only because he thought Michael would keep them. Michael’s own collection was much more extensive. Austin thought those records meant something to Michael. He thought they were imbued with memories and immune to Michael’s regular bouts of de-cluttering. He never expected them to be turned into cash and spent on yet another woodworking tool.
Michael’s breathing settled. There was no way Austin could sleep with all his bottled-up emotions. Michael never seemed to have that problem.
Rip-cut Saw: Has fewer teeth than most hand saws but each one is very sharp. Cuts across the grain.It is versatile and suitable for a number of situations.
The seismic quakes rumbled underground for days. Petty annoyances surfaced – little things that usually wouldn’t have mattered – the cap not being closed on the toothpaste, the wrong kind of pasta, making a cup of tea without offering to make a full pot, watching the wrong channel on tv, forgetting Tessa’s birthday, having no helpful ideas for presents, snoring, not using a bookmark, leaving dirty dishes out of the dishwasher, wearing mismatching socks.
Each tiny annoyance cut deeper than the last. Each time Austin tried to patch things up he ended up making it worse, as if he had picked a scab and let the blood flow once more.
Michael didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t even seem to notice there was an it to talk about. As usual, he acted as if nothing was wrong and buried any feelings deep in a blanket of silence.
It was another hot day. It hadn’t rained for over two weeks. The afternoon sun reached the balcony and poured its unwanted heat into the lounge. When Austin went to draw the curtains, he noticed the wilted plants in their dry pots.
Michael had been working long hours to complete a bespoke furniture commission. He’d leave before sunrise and come home covered in sawdust late in the evening. It was always the same. A mad intense couple of days and then the long sleep to recover once the work was complete.
It had been Austin’s responsibility to water the pots each morning. He couldn’t remember when he had last done it. He filled the watering can and slid open the patio door just as Michael emerged from the bedroom.
‘You can’t water them now the sun is on them. It’ll burn the leaves.’
‘I’m watering the soil not the leaves.’
‘Why didn’t you do it earlier?’
Austin didn’t answer. He knelt down and carefully poured water into the saucers underneath Michael’s precious pots.
Michael was still standing in the doorway. He didn’t say a word, but his folded arms and downturned mouth shouted his disappointment into Austin’s face, without giving any opening for Austin to shout back.
Michael tutted and left.
Plane: Has a sharp blade mounted in a metal body. Ideal for removing rough layers and leaving a smooth finish.
After a month, Austin finally accepted that the plants were not going to suddenly spring back to life. He texted Michael to ask if he wanted the pots. Michael’s reply was blunt and barbed. He didn’t need dead plants. His new flat was on the ground floor and he had a proper garden full of life.
Austin removed the pots, swept the balcony free of dirt, scrubbed the floor and installed a small table and two chairs. Finally, he unwound the canopy that would block out the afternoon sun. The canopy they never used. The canopy that Michael never wanted.
Each morning Austin woke to the sound of his coffee machine expressing a perfect cupful of caffeine. He’d take it onto the balcony and watch London wake. On clear days he might catch the first rays of sunshine. On wet days he’d sit perfectly dry listening to the raindrop staccato striking the canopy.
The balcony became a refuge. A place of peace where he could be himself. Where he could express himself. He started sketching. Something he hadn’t done for years. Something he’d never done in all the time Michael and he were together. The sketches were nothing special. Nothing more than doodles that any A-level art student would be capable of.
He was nervous and his hand shook. He’d never been to a life-drawing class before. He’d never tried to draw a naked woman. He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually seen a real-life naked woman.
He re-learnt drawing techniques he’d long forgotten and re-discovered how to enjoy the company of a diverse group of people. His circle of friends expanded and life became comfortable and almost complete. All he needed was the right man.
Bar Clamp: A long metal bar with adjustable jaws that can be tightened to bring pieces securely together.
And there he was. Naked. Muscles finely chiselled by long hours of physical work. Permanent calloses worn like marks of pride on his hands. Dark black hair tied back in a ponytail. A round, slightly plump face with unseen dimples waiting to pop into existence at the first sign of a smile.
Austin’s hand shook as he picked up his charcoal and made the first mark on the page. He took short, furtive glances. He couldn’t look into that face. He didn’t dare to meet those grey eyes.
He drew what he wanted to see and finally looked up to find a smirk. A knowing smile. A challenge and an invitation. A wariness and an unexpected vulnerability.
The life model wrapped his dressing gown around himself and started his tour of inspection – acknowledging each student’s completed work as he walked around the room. He finally came to Austin’s easel.
‘I didn’t know you were an artist.’
‘I didn’t know you were a model.’
‘I needed the work.’
Austin raised his eyebrows – questioning what he had heard.
The model frowned.
‘It’s more than that. I needed to be more open. I need to let people see me.’
Austin waited.
‘Why don’t we grab a drink? Why don’t we talk.’
Austin was about to refuse. About to walk away, but he sensed a change. That hint of vulnerability that he’d never seen before.
He nodded.
Michael smiled and Austin noticed the dimples appear exactly where he had drawn them.
