Maddy Rigby (maddyrigby) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-09-30 23:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | maddy rigby, marsh grey |
Concerning the Spiritual in Art
Who: Maddy, Marsh, NPC Miles
What: Talking, Hot Drinks, Misunderstandings
When: Present
Where: M&M Coffee Shop, Hobson Street, Searchlight
Content: Chill
The brick walls and terracotta paint of the M&M reminded Maddy of the womb, or what she imagined one would be like. The itty-bitty coffee shop on Hobson Street defied the odds in Searchlight by being independently owned, one of few businesses not swallowed when Terrible’s swooped into town with their corporate schtick and bought the properties on the cheap side of the Monopoly board. Also, it was good, with a variety of coffees, teas, and danishes… to say nothing of the secret menu.
The M&M had a low ceiling, a variety of small tables and plush chairs, and a cute bay window in the front. A sweet old lady told her it used to be a family restaurant and it had that vibe. She could almost smell the scent of garlic bread if she fantasized hard enough.
“Hey, Miles, can I get an shot of vanilla in my Chai?” she asked, leaning onto the counter. One of her feet twirled behind her, a flirty-restless swirl of her skull-print Oxfords. “And make it extra spicy.” She slid a few folded bills at him, discreetly, with the five outside the bigger ones to disguise the true amount. This wasn’t her first rodeo, so Maddy knew that Miles would follow this transaction with a text to ask her what she wanted and the goods would be added to her drink before the cup arrived on the pass-through.
“Cool-cool,” she said when the bills disappeared. Maddy flopped in a red velvet chair and waited, phone in hand, two fingers twisting a lock of her hair, which was platinum blonde again.
Marsh generally drank his coffee at home, black and generic, but Marsh needed some time out of the trailer and it was much too early to be eating lunch. He’d been to M&M a few times, when the coffee ran out at home and a trip to the General Store without his morning coffee seemed too daunting, so he was familiar enough with the menu. That having been said, none of the baristas had bothered to remember him when he stopped in. Guess he wasn’t interesting enough to remember.
These days he kept his hair back in a messy ponytail, Led Zeppelin shirt feeling much cooler without his hair falling down the back of his neck. Maybe he’d cut his hair, it seemed like a reasonable enough instinct and he hadn’t donned a short haircut since he was in college. He stepped behind a blonde, watching the exchange of money between her and the barista, a knowing look on both their faces. He didn’t need to read minds to be able to take a cue from this behavior but this wasn’t Lucky’s and she didn’t seem to pose a threat to anyone.
“Coffee, black,” he said to the barista. His nametag read Miles. The smell of freshly ground coffee was a nice aroma and maybe he’d actually finish the book he’d been reading for six months. The barista gave him a cup and pointed behind him at the self-serve coffee. He paid the man and filled his cup, finding a seat in the cafe to begin reading his book. He peered over at the blonde sitting in the velvet chair next to him and opened his book. It was a translation of Wassily Kandinsky’s Concerning the Spiritual in Art.
It was an interesting read when he had the patience to pick it up.
Maddy’s thumbs fired off a text and she tucked her phone in her hip pocket. From there, she got down to the business of people watching. Hippie grandpa in a tie-dye shirt. Alice from the Brady Bunch, if Alice was in witness protection. Health-conscious “it” couple in hiking boots. The crown of Maddy’s head lolled against the back of the chair, and there was classic rock ponytail.
She squinted at the title of his book, then did a quick Google search and began to read to herself. ‘Wassily Kandinsky was a Russian abstract painter and art theorist… ew, boring. Born in Moscow, he lived in Germany and taught at the Bauhaus school of art and architecture. I do like Bauhaus… different Bauhaus. Dude, these paintings suuuuuuck.’
“Maddy.” Miles sent her cup sailing across the counter.
“Ooh!” she bounced to retrieve it and returned to her seat.
Marsh gingerly took a sip of his coffee, watching the young woman type furiously on her phone after looking at him. He let his resolve slip for a minute, curious. He chuckled a bit at her thoughts, trying his best to keep his amusement in. He set the book down and sipped his coffee before he decided to speak.
“Kandinsky was a rock star at the turn of the 20th century in the art world,” he said, leaning over the table as he tried to hold the attention of the vibrantly dressed young woman. He wasn’t much a fan of it in his youth but picked it up in college when he was earning elective credit. “Critics hated him, called him a drug addict and a madman.” Another sip, short hairs from around his face falling from the messy ponytail.
Maybe he was being an obnoxious old guy but Dr. Burke told him that he should try to make more connections to get over his fear of getting close to people.
Maddy looked up mid slurp. Uh what?
She realized he must have seen her checking out his book, so she nodded. “Mm. Yeah. You read my mind. Kandinsky. What a talent!” she said warmly. The painting of a bunch of daycare construction paper cut-outs dropped on a tacky rug screamed genius. The hot tea zinged its way into her stomach, its magical additives giving it more flavor but not due to kick in for a while.
“Squares With Concentric Circles is a staple of modern dorm art.” She turned the paper cup between her hands. “Are you taking classes at UNLV, or is this leisure reading?”
He recalled learning about him in a contemporary art class, it seemed like a century ago when it had been two decades. “Just leisure reading,” he admitted, though her simplistic explanation of one of the most brilliant art minds did make him want to spit nails. He took another sip of his coffee to stop himself from defending Kandinsky too passionately. He never knew the man, he’d been dead long before Marsh had been born.
“Dorm art ain’t exactly how I’d describe it though nor would I say he painted squares with concentric circles. There was actual imagery and content to his pieces.” Maybe she was a college student, she did seem like the right age to be spitting fire at some unlucky professor.
“No. That’s the um,” Maddy queued her phone up again and shared the display with him. “That’s the name of this one. Squares With Concentric Circles. 1913. Sorry, Farbstudie - Quadrate und konzentrische Ringe,” she said, butchering the pronunciation. The info was offered without judgment. It was a pretty humdrum name. “It’s kind-of Warhol-esque, right? Makes you wonder if Andy was a fan.”
She shrugged. “Anyway, when I said it was dorm art, I meant literally. Like Einstein sticking his tongue out, or the one with the Pink Floyd albums painted on naked chicks. I went to the California College of the Arts, so the wall art was a little more evolved, but not a lot.” Her tea had overflowed onto her lid, so she took another sip before she added to the stains on the furniture.
And just like that, Marsh felt a fool. Another promise he’d made was to be receptive to the people around them and not making snap judgements. He guessed he still had more work to do. He chuckled at himself, closing his eyes in clear embarrassment for a quick moment before offering a smile at her. “Forgive me, it’s been years since I learned this stuff and to be honest this book has been taking me a while to finish.”
He stood from his seat to move to the one closer to the woman and reached his hand out across the threshold to greet her. “My name’s Marsh.” He offered, since it was the least he could do for misunderstanding her and, well, sneaking into her brain pan.
Extending hers, she smiled. “No worries. I’m Maddy.” The handshake was enthusiastic, because she wasn’t super into conflict and she felt a twinge of guilt over comparing his hero’s work to arts ‘n crafts. “Is this your spot?” she asked, doing a loop with her index finger to indicate the coffee shop. “I don’t actually live in Searchlight. I mean, if I did, you’d know me. There’s like twelve people here. So what I’m saying is, it’s not my spot. Nor am I a morning person. This is the equivalent of a blue whale sighting.”
A soft chuckle came after her comment as Marsh leaned back in his chair. “No and also yes. I prefer drinking the coffee I have back home,” he gestured his head to the general direction of the trailer park. “but I do live and work here in Searchlight.” Even that statement didn’t cover it at this point. He’d spent the last several months with his mother and his sister back in Durango and his job didn’t start back up until next week but after making his way back here, it felt like no time had passed.
A small ray of sunshine shone through the window and looked like it was cutting a barrier between the two. He’d sure miss the quiet stillness of the mornings once he started work back at Lucky’s. “Just passing through?” There was a truck stop not far for folks on their way to Vegas.
Maddy saw dust particles floating in the beam of light and her blue eyes watched them for a moment. At first she thought she was hallucinating but, nope, regular dust. “Nah. I live in Vegas,” she said, curling her legs into the chair. “But I know a few people out here.” Chances were good that Marsh knew them, too. “There’s a fortune teller over in Cabbage Patch, Luna? We used to live together. Actually, we’re not on great terms, so let’s just, psssshhhh, skip past that,” Maddy said, waving her hand. “Do you know Derek? He’s a garment entrepreneur? If you’re looking for some new drip of the tourist chic variety, he’s your guy. Oh, and Brian over at Lucky’s. That guy, am I right?” Maddy rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding. He’s fine.”
She remembered where she was in the conversation. “So, where do you work?”
For living in such a small place Marsh did tend to mostly keep to himself, save for the few that made their way into Lucky’s. “I work at Lucky’s,” he replied, shortly following it with, “I mean I’ve been gone a few months but I start back up next week.” Part of him thought that maybe it was a bad idea, with everything that happened there on a regular basis but there wasn’t much to choose from when it came to jobs in Searchlight.
“And yeah I know ‘em all. Ain’t much in terms of secrets in a place like this.” At least his was still kept close to his chest. He’d divulged to a few people very close to him but there were still many who didn’t know about his past. “I don’t blame you for coming here, Vegas ain’t exactly a place for peace and quiet.”
Another sip would be taken of his coffee and he peered at the liquid as it slipped like fire down his throat. He might have to do a refill before long.
Maddy wrinkled her nose. “Why would I want peace and quiet?” More likely, she’d be a thing disturbing the peace and quiet. She decided to go big or go home on the chai, emptying the contents in a few quick gulps. The blonde had some thoughts about Marsh’s assertion that Searchlight had few secrets, but she let it ride. What was she gonna do, offer an example?
She swatted at a chittering insect, then blinked as an explosion of color radiated from her palm. A large, enchanted bug hit the floor and click-clacked across the wood, fighting for its tiny life. Maddy leaned over the arm of the chair, took a huge breath, and blew. The magical beetle flipped onto its legs again and ran under Marsh’s chair, the veil’s equivalent of a cockroach.
Aww shit. ‘It’s working! Marsh can’t see it. Keep your shit together.’ Maddy darted a look at Miles, who kept wiping the same spot on the counter. “Uh…” She scratched the back of her head. “So what do you do at Lucky’s? Dumb question, it’s a bar. What don’t you do at Lucky’s?”
A brow raised at her behavior and the thoughts slipped through. He wondered what it was that she meant by that and his therapist's brain took over. Either this one was experiencing psychosis or she wasn’t entirely sober at this early hour in the morning. “To each their own I suppose,” he replied. Marsh being quite the opposite. He’d never had a care for being noticed or praised, just doing good hard work.
“I’m a bartender, server, the like. Only thing I don’t do there is run the place.” That was Brian’s job, he was muscle of the joint anyhow. “So what do you do out there in Vegas?” She didn’t seem like she was tied down by some fancy career but Marsh knew better than anyone else that looks could be deceiving.
“I design costumes for performers. Sometimes set pieces, but I’m more of a textiles and jewelry person,” Maddy said, which went some way to explaining the cacophony that would erupt from her bar drop necklace if she jostled it. “I used to tend bar at this little hole in the wall called, aptly, the Rabbit Hole, but that place is…” Maddy shook her head. “Sticky. Also, there’s only so many spill kits you want to crack open per shift. Y’know? Iris is cleaner.”
Maddy took aim at the nearest trash can and sank her cup. Gong. The noise made the air around it wobble like heat over an airport runway. A spectral woman with floaty hair emerged head and shoulders from the trash can and put a finger to her mouth. ‘Shh!’
She bit into her red lip.
He chuckled at her comment, swirling the liquid around in his cup. “Yeah I know the place and trust me, I’ve seen some messes you wouldn’t believe.” Lucky’s had been exciting to say the least and Marsh had cleaned things he couldn’t even begin to describe. His eyes followed her cup that made it into the trash bin without even a second thought. He remembered a time in his life when he had an aim like that.
“That sounds like interesting work though, always good work when you’re working with your hands.” He watched her face and the subtle behaviors that were suggesting to Marsh that she saw something that no one else here could see. Maybe she was really just surprised that she made it. He hummed quietly to himself. “Are you alright?” It was an honest question and one he didn’t expect to be asking someone in a coffee shop this early in the morning.
“Yuuup. Yup yup.” Maddy nodded. She was fine, just capable, for the next few hours, of seeing creatures that most people — even gifted ones like herself — could not. She was watching a point above both their heads. “Hey, do you ever think about how some people who experience ‘hallucinations’ or ‘delusions’ are seeing what ordinary minds can’t?” She crossed her legs and leaned into that thought. “But then, if you go with that, then how do you ever know what’s real and what’s a figment of the imagination? There’s no way to test! Science only uses objective evidence that everyone can observe, and when Big Science encounters things that defy rational explanation or break the established rules, people are discredited or worse, unless there’s money to be made and we all know what happens—“
Miles bumped her arm on his way to clean up unattended trashed.
“Ow!” Maddy rubbed her elbow. A tiny creature popped out of Miles’ hip pocket and giggled into its fingerless hand. It looked like a knock-off Teletubby. Maddy stuck out her tongue at it, then shook her head. “Sorry,” she explained to Marsh. “My parents are scientists. I have lots of thoughts about it.”
Marsh knew quite a bit about the nature of hallucinating, he’d studied and observed many different patients with a variety of different symptoms. The worst of which had been Lawrence, the schizophrenic, who was not only responsible for Marsh’s leg and his license, but for his own demise. “No, I think people who experience those symptoms are genuinely dealing with a very debilitating disorder.” He never understood the joy people got out of putting themselves above others who were struggling. It was the reason he became a therapist, because they’d helped him so much in his past. “Or on some psychotropic drugs,” he added.
Though if he was being fair, they thought Marsh was suffering hallucinations as a child and not actually hearing the thoughts in peoples heads. “It’s alright. Science is there to challenge the status quo and sometimes that involves unasserting what was, at one point, thought to be complete truth. Years I’ve been on this Earth I know that there is nothing certain in this world.”
Sure, Marsh thought, people could sometimes predict where things were going but there was a level of chaos that was ever present in the world and there was no one capable of stopping it.
Ohh, he was one of those. Maddy twirled her wrist to hear it pop. He probably didn’t believe in ghosts, either. “Years you’ve been on this earth. That makes it sound like you’re a silver-haired wizard. You’re what, late thirties? Forty?” she guessed, smiling. “Average life expectancy is almost eighty.” Miles was on his way past again. She considered stretching out a foot to trip him, but decided against it. There might be a Teletubby in the front pocket, too.
Part of him wanted to tell her it was none of her damn business but it amused him that she seemed to be spot on with his age. He finished off the cup and placed the empty one on the table next to him. “Forty, but I don’t say that because of my age. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch the progression of science from up close. There are things out there we’ll never understand and honestly, I think maybe it’s better to just accept it.” The research for his PhD had challenged his skills when it came to quantifying the behaviors of individuals and he’d still thought back on his work to consider if maybe what he’d discovered could be disproved today. Maybe someone already had.
He wouldn’t dare to challenge her on her age, it didn’t seem polite and he honestly felt marginalized by the question. Still, a new acquaintance wasn’t exactly the best person to utilize his ‘truths’ on. “I’d be mighty interested to hear your theory on that though, if you’re up to tell it.”
“Well,” she said. “If there are things we’ll never understand, then maybe some ‘delusions’,” she used quote marks, “Aren’t delusions. They’re… I guess, observations from more-evolved minds. Or at least, minds that are more open to possibility. Like with children. When they’re small, they see things until they learn not to see them, because their parents tell them, y’know… it’s just their imaginations, because they don’t want them to be scared. But with some people, maybe they’re calibrated differently and they can’t unlearn it. Or their bodies can’t undo it.” She shrugged. “I’ve seen my parents get stoned and believe in all sorts of things, and for a while after, they stay open to it. But then, sooner or later, they start to doubt their experiences, and they convince themselves it wasn’t real, because they can’t duplicate it or quantify it, which makes them feel like failures as researchers.”
Maddy twirled one of her shoelaces around her index and middle fingers. “They want to believe, but they can’t. Even when it’s right under their noses, they’re conditioned to just, like, write it off. You know, you’re their same age!” She broke into a huge grin. “Nah, I’m kidding, I’m about to turn thirty. My parents are on the AARP mailing list.”
The concept hit home hard. Marsh himself had grown up trying to tell himself that the voices in his head weren’t real and doing everything he could to make them stop but even with therapy and his own self work, he could never stop himself completely from hearing the thoughts of others. Even now, in the moments that he was vulnerable he had to remind himself that at least he knew what he was. “Well, you may be right about that. Can’t say it applies to every situation like that but I see your point.”
The quip about his age made him smirk without even so much as a thought. Yeah, sure, he was getting older but he knew there weren’t people his age with children her age, at least he was fairly certain since they only had barely a ten year difference between them. “Well the early bird special is worth the back pain,” he teased.
“I’m looking forward to an active lifestyle at a charming retirement community. The brochures make gardening and water aerobics look fun.” Maddy’s eyes ticked left, this time not at a magical creature but at the image of Derek still looking like he did now. “What’s the term for a female-identifying silver fox? Y’know like… Diane Keaton.”
Maddy shook herself. “Sorry, off topic. Anyway, I should get something in my stomach. But it’s been real, Marsh.” She leaned across the way and offered him her knuckles for a bump.
“Glistening vixen,” he said with a smirk. He’d heard it once before from a patron at Lucky’s who had found himself chasing after a new kind of tail. To each his own he supposed. He followed her hand movements, awkwardly fist bumping the vibrant young woman.
“A pleasure Maddy.” He stood to toss his own cup away. “Just try to stay safe out there. This town may be boring but it’s always interesting.” If that made any sense. He offered a hand in the air and made his way out of the cafe to head back to his trailer. He supposed it wasn’t a total loss of a morning after all.