The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (13 page)

I
put
the prepared fish into the
fridge
and removed
a bowl of b
lue corn
posole
that
had been soaking overnight. I transferred the
posole
to a large pan and brought it to a low boil in salted water.

Then I hung the Levis out to dry and
took a shower
.
It
was even more refreshing than usual. It’s so arid in New Mexico that perspiration evaporates as it forms, so we never feel sweaty. But that’s how I felt boarding the buses and waiting for one in front of the Co-op. Maybe not being able to move through the air becau
se of the cast was the problem.

B
y
the time I had showered, shaved, brushed and flossed, the Levis were dry. Hey, it’s
the desert.
I
pressed a stiff crease into them, thinking as I did so of
Stella Ramse
y
, a former paramour who always come to mind when I touch an iron.

I
p
ut my best dress shirt over the
Levis
, hoping
the combo looked somehow chic. I’ve never been certain
exactly
what ‘chic’ means, but it was
the
word that sprung to mind every time I saw Sharice.

The water in the
posole
had boiled down almost to the desired level.
{eve>
I
reduced the heat and added minced garlic,
extra virgin olive oil
, a handful of chopped fresh
Mexican oregano
and a cup of
roasted green chile.

I placed two
champagne flutes and
two
bottles of Gruet in the freezer, one a
blanc de noir
s
and the other a ros
é
.
I
have a refrigerator-door magnet in the shape of a tin
y
Gruet bottle
which I purchased at their gift shop
. I stuck it to the freezer door to remind me to remove the champagne after it was icy cold and before it froze and popped its cork.

I lowered the lights and lit the candles.

When the doorbell rang, I
put the trout in the oven.

She was stunning in a white sun dress with string straps at the top that showed off her perfect
petit
shoulders and a hem at the bottom that did the same for her equally perfec
t legs.

Her short hair was in a loose afro.
Her eye
shadow and lipstick
were both
violet.
I’d never
before
seen a woman with viol
e
t
lips
, but against her
ash
grey skin,
those lips
generated fantasies that arose quicker than I could suppress them.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and
hand
ed
me a stalk of yucca blossoms
.
Their grapefruit and lemony smell was perfect for a desert evening.

She looked around the shop.
“What lovely pottery. Did you make these?
”

“Some of them.”

She
approached one of the display cases and picked up
a wide low bowl I had fashioned after on
e
from San Ildefonso.

I looked at my reflection in the glass door of the case.

“Examining your sunburn?”

“No, trying to see if I have a violet lip print on my cheek.”

She smiled. “
Quality lipstick
stays put.”

I smiled back. “So I guess you could say it’s inviolate.”

She groaned and
held
up the bowl
.
“Can we use this?”

“Sure.”

I escorted her through the workshop
and
back to the dining room.

She ran some water into the bowl then deftly stripped the yucca stem of its flowers so that they floated in the bowl.

Then she saw Geronimo scratching at the door.

“
He’s so adorable.
Can you let him in?”

He’s a real chick magnet. I know Tristan says people don’t say ‘chick’ anymore, but that’s what he is.

“He can be a bit rambunctious,” I warned. I didn’t add that it was only around women
. {Linrambunfont>

I opened the door and he jumped at her. The two of them quickly became fast friends forever or whatever that new phrase is.

She opted for the
blanc de noirs
and the patio. Geronimo curled up at her feet and eavesdropped on our conversation
which didn’t last long because the trout bakes quickly
.

I excused myself to set the table while she and Geronimo continued to bond.

I added fresh cilantro and a squeeze of lime to the
posole
and placed some on each
plate
. Then I brought the trout to the table on a serving platter.

Truchas in terracotta
is delicious
to eat
and
showy
to serve
. I struck the clay with the back of a spoon
.
The clay
fissure
d
and Sharice gasped.

“
Amazing
,” she said when I lifted
the clay
,
and
the grape leaves and
trout skin came away
with it
,
leaving the succulent flesh which had cooked in its own steam.

She complimented me on
the trout
, the
posole
and
my outfit. “
The
worn
old Levis with neat creases look cool over your cast.”

“I don’t have any other {ve l over ypants that will
slip
over the cast, so the only option other than the Levis was my bathrobe.”

She laughed. “Did you consider it?”

“Yes, but I rejected it quickly.”

“Whew.”

She looked at the
bowl on the table with the yucca blossoms. “Did you make this one?”

I nodded.

“Makes beautiful bowl
s
and cooks. Impressive.”

“The bowl is a copy. I can’t take credit for the design. And the
recipe
is from
Casa Sena
. I’m just a copy
cat.”

“Remember those bowls you ask me to x-ray a couple of years ago? Were they copies?”

“Yes
… o
r no.”

“One of those, I imagine.”

She had a soft natural smile that showed her perfect teeth. I was trying to think of her as my date, not my dental hygienist, but those teeth were hard to ignore. Indeed, there was nothing about her I could ignore,
neither
her bright green eyes, her delicate nose
nor
the tri
m
firm muscles on her
thin arms and legs.

I yanked my mind back to the conversation
and tried to explain my hesitation about the pot
s
being copies
. “Th
e ancient potters
from San Roque made a set of pots th
ey
considered sacred. Their
e ancien>
descendents
made other sets just like them. So you could say they were copies. But when potters make a pot that’s part of their culture, I don’t think of it as copying. The design belongs to them as members of the tribe
.
”

“Why did you want me to x-ray them?”

“I wanted to see if they were from the original set or
from one of the newer sets of copies
.”

Her brow furrowed. “Something like carbon dating? The originals were older so they
would
x-rayed differently?”

“
I don’t kno
w if an x-ray can determine
age
, but it can detect metal. The originals had gold discs embedded in their bases.”

“Wow. And were those originals?”

“They were.”

“So you broke them and retrieved the gold?”

“No way. In the first place, I’d never break a genuine ancient pot. The original potter would never forgive me.”

She smiled again. I was getting hooked on her smiles. “You believe in spirits?”

”I feel a kinship with the ancient potters. Sometimes I even feel their presence.
M
aybe it’s just in my mind
, but it seems real
.”

“And in the second place?”

“Huh?”

“You said in the first place you’d never break a pot.”

“Oh, right. In the second place, the pots were worth more than the gold.”

“I’d like to see them
again
. Or have you sold them?”

“I gave them
back to the Ma.”