Mona

By David Behar

Heads lined the shelves on Leos white walls. The right housed men, the left, women. Each pointed directly forward and sat four inches from the one beside it. Halogen bulbs cast a pure light over the empty skulls. Hazel, blue, and green dots were the only colors amidst the spotless workshop foyer. Two doors stood against the back wall, one marked M, the other, F. Each door led to an architecturally identical space. White cabinets overhung tables attached to white walls. Hands occupied the top drawers, feet in the bottom. Legs and arms were organized by size on the far wall. Torsos draped from the ceiling on wire tracks. Each room had a door that led to the machinery. There was a station for molding, a station for casting, a station for painting, and a station for shipping. Each station occupied a 250 square foot area of the 1,000 square foot room. Each instrument was meticulously cleaned after use. At the back of the machine room was a staircase that led to Leos living area. Splinters of light pierced the windows surrounding Leos bed. Every morning the Colorado sun woke him. Leo made certain every crease in the comforter was out before going to the kitchen for his routine breakfast of a bagel and an orange. He cut the orange into four equal slices and his bagel directly down the middle. After breakfast, Leo checked his website to see if any new orders came in from the previous morning. One female: 43, lean build, green eyes, from Vasaris Childrens Boutique in Miami Beach, FL. # Leo, get Mona. Were going to brunch at the Marriott, Tiffany said. Leo put his figurine back on the desk and walked towards the balcony of his parents South Beach apartment. The dead eyes of his fathers work followed Leo down the hall. Perfectly symmetrical faces trapped behind glass. Mona leaned over the terrace, watching the breeze skip over the sea, her ivory arms balanced on the railing. Be careful. You could fall right off if you lean any further, Leo said.

I just wanted to get a closer look. They look like your dolls from up here. I want to play with them, Mona said. Those arent the type of dolls you want to play with, Mona, not until youre older. Mom is bringing us to brunch. Lets go before she makes a scene. Leo let Mona through the sliding glass door and closed it behind him. They didnt make it five feet over the hardwood before their mother stopped them. Tiffany raised her brow at Mona and said, You cant wear that to the Marriott, dear. But I like it. Go change into your Vasari dress. Im not going to be seen with you in those rags. The lime fabric tightly clung to her silicone chest when she raised her voice. # Leo had not read that name in years. The memory was always in the back of his mind, but suddenly the remembrance became tangible. Leo washed his bread knife and placed it back into the holder beside the sink. He cleared the crumbs and wiped away the stray orange juice, returning the kitchen to its spotless state. Leo went downstairs to sculpt the model for her mold. He walked through the machining room and entered the female sculpting room. Leo grabbed a block of clay out from the cabinet. He opened the drawer neighboring the sculpting table and pulled out a wire carver. With each drag of the tool, a shaving of clay fell to the table and Leos memory brightened. Obtuse cylinders became fingers, lumps became knuckles. The hand took shape. Leo always carved the right before the left. The same method applied to all appendages he made. After the right hand was finished, Leo moved on to the left. The left was always made faster than the right, but never of lesser quality. # Tiffany called the elevator and Mona dawdled out of her room. Leo held Monas hand as the elevator descended. Her cotton palms pressed around Leos cold fingers. The doors dinged open and took them to the lobby. A suited concierge sat behind a large granite desk. Afternoon, Mrs. Bourke. Where are you off to this Sunday? Afternoon, Louis. A brunch with the children. Wheres Mr. Bourke? Milan. Hell be shooting over there for the next few weeks. Well, give him my best.
2

The buildings doors opened and the family walked out. They passed the guard gate and continued onto Ocean Drive, heading towards the Marriott. Palm fronds painted contrails in the sky behind pastel buildings. A pink 1957 Chevy Bel Air sat beside the Colony Hotel; its chrome accents reflected the passing white pants and teal bikinis. A derelicts parrot asking for change was masked by the revving of a half-million dollar car. Designer dogs played in the grass while their owners took cover under church hats. Tanned skin and gold sunglasses blurred behind the smoke of a Cuban cigar. The pale orange walls of the Marriott came into sight. The Bourkes walked through the lobby to the restaurant by the pool. A red-haired hostess smiled behind her podium. # Leo put his hands out to dry and went upstairs to make lunch. He placed a skillet on the stovetop and measured out a tablespoon of olive oil for the pan. He cut an avocado in slices and waited for the oil to heat. He set a chicken breast on the skillet. While the chicken cooked, Leo arranged the avocado on his plate, then washed his used paring knife. A squeeze of lime and touch of cilantro seasoned the chicken. He cleaned the pan and walked to his balcony. He sat down on his wicker chair and ate his meal, gazing into the mountains. Snow rested over the jagged horizon. Skeletons of bark stood before the rock goliaths. Leo watched that same scene every day, the only change being the food on his plate and the clouds in the sky. He washed his plate and returned to the workshop. He removed another block of clay from the cabinet for the feet. Leo grasped the wire carver and carved another limb. He dabbed his hands in water and rubbed them over the sole, smoothing out any imperfections. He ran his fingers over each toe, rounding them into recognizable digits. # The hostess led the Bourkes past the buffet to the outdoor terrace. Their table sat neighboring the bar and overlooked the pool. A spectrum of skin lay on towels below, Canadian white to Cuban bronze. Children jumped in the pool and parents drank on the deck, each on their own vacation. A waitress in white pants and a light yellow crop top came to the table. The brunch buffet is just inside. Are there any drinks youd like to order? the waitress said. Ill have a mimosa, shell have milk, and hell have water, Tiffany said. I dont want milk. I want chocolate milk, Mona said.

Mona dear, you cant be drinking that much sugar. Youll end up fat and living in a trailer park. You dont want to live in trailer park, do you? Tiffany said. No, Mona muttered. Okay, Ill get those drinks out in a bit. Help yourself to the buffet whenever youre ready, the waitress said before sauntering off. Mona and Leo started heading inside for the buffet before Tiffany stopped them. Remember, Mona, no sugar. Daddy always lets me eat sweets, Mona said. Well, Daddy isnt here right now, so no sweets. Mona and Leo continued through the doors to the buffet. Dont worry, Mona, Ill grab some for you, Leo said. Thanks, Leo, youre way cooler than mom, why doesnt she yell at you? She used to. Over time, youll learn to ignore her. Eventually she just stops trying to turn you into her. Leo grabbed a chocolate chip muffin and wrapped it in a napkin before stuffing it into his pocket. One chef folded omelets while another pressed waffles. Bacon, sausage, hash browns, and eggs filled silver chafing dishes resting over a burgundy table cloth. One table lined with pastries, another lined with fruits. Leo had an omelet made with bell peppers and onion. Mona grabbed a few orange wedges, strawberries, and a bagel. They brought their plates back to the table. Thats a good girl, Mona, fruit will keep you pretty, Tiffany said after taking a sip of her mimosa. Mona took a quarter of orange and put it in her mouth, hiding her teeth beneath the peel. Leo smiled at her and let out a small chuckle, Tiffany was distracted by the square jaw eying her from the bar. # Leo placed his feet beside the hands to sit overnight and dry. Having sculpted since morning, Leo decided to cook a simple meal for dinner: prime rib sauted with potatoes and onions. Leo ate his dinners on his granite counter top with the company of a style magazine, keeping tab on the worlds view of beauty. Leo washed his dishes and set the magazine back into its rack. He went to his bedroom to disrobe and enter the shower. Leo turned the handle to eleven oclock; the same position every time to ensure a consistent water temperature. First he washed
4

his body, then his face, then his hair. Leo had followed the same routine with the same soap products for years. He stepped out of the shower and stared into his fogged reflection while he brushed his teeth. Leos figure came into focus as he put his toothbrush back into its holder and picked up the floss. By the time Leo finished brushing, flossing, and swashing mouthwash, he saw a clear picture. Normally, this image had no meaning, but today, he noticed himself. Twenty years of routine revealed in the glass. His hairline inched back, his eyes drooped, and the lines in his face appeared more prominent. Leo left the mirror, but brought its impression with him to bed, trying to comprehend where the past two decades went. # You have a beautiful daughter. She clearly takes after her mother, the man said. How sweet of you to say. Lucky for her; she didnt take after her father, Tiffany said while turning around in her chair. He is a very lucky man. How foolish of him to not spend time with his family, the man said. Leo didnt want Mona to be around Tiffany when she got like this. Lets go for a walk on the beach, Mona, Leo said. Should we tell mom? Mona said. No, she wont even notice. Mona grabbed half of a bagel from table and hopped off her seat. She kicked her pink sandals off and walked to Leos side of the table. Whats that for? Leo said. The seagulls, Mona said. Mona and Leo left their mother giggling with the man at the bar. They headed down the stairs, past the pool and on to the sand. Why are you still wearing shoes? Mona said. I dont want to burn my feet. Thats what makes the beach fun. Its like lava. You skip and jump until its cool. If you say so, Leo said before pulling off his sandals. They hopped between shadows over August sand. A Technicolor canopy of umbrellas covered the beach, tourists nesting in their shade, while locals flocked to the sun. The men prowled over the dunes, picking out their next flock to stalk. Leo and Mona crossed the sandy

adult playground to the shoreline. The turquoise water rolled up the slope and cooled their feet. Leo reached into his pocket. Remember this? Leo said as he pulled the muffin out. My muffin! Thanks, Leo. I dont know what Im going to do when you leave for school, Mona said. Dont worry, dad will be back soon, and he shouldnt be traveling as much in the upcoming months. Hell look out for you. Mona was too fixated on the muffin to process what Leo just said. Gulls hovered behind them, waiting for crumbs to fall from Monas small hands. They sure look hungry up there, Leo said. Well they cant have my muffin, Mona said. How about that bagel you brought for them? Oh yeah, Mona said, smiling her chocolate covered lips. She stuffed the rest of the muffin into her mouth. Mona broke off a piece of the bagel and tossed it into the air. A gull swooped down and caught the piece before it hit the ground. # Leo woke before the sun the next morning. He headed straight for the workshop after breakfast. Todays agenda consisted of the arms, legs, and torso. These parts were not like the hands and feet. The shapes were much simpler, requiring far less detail work. Leo grabbed a large block of clay out of the cabinet and cut it into four sections. He used a large wire carver to cut each section, turning blocks into cylinders. Leo put down the carver and dipped his hands in water. He ran his palms over the oblong shape, forming it into an arm. He moved onto the left, gliding his fingers over the gray model until the arm emerged. The legs came next. Their figure, similar to the arms, surfaced from the clay. Leo brought the limbs to rest with their counterparts on the drying rack and prepared an omelet for lunch. He took his meal to his wicker chair on the balcony, consumed by the mountain vista. Leo gazed into the rock giants, wondering how long he viewed this same scene over the years. He thought back to his view from the twelfth floor apartment. A rainbow of octagons balanced on the beach. Figurines playing in the emerald Atlantic. I wish you were still sand, Leo said to the snow. Leo returned to the workshop to start on the torso. He reached back into the cabinet and removed another large block of clay. Leo grasped the wooden handles of his wire cutter and
6

pulled it through the clay, removing layer after layer until noticeable curves appeared. He evened out the edges and shaped the mold until it took a human form. The clay model was nearly complete, there was only one part remaining. Leo set the body out to dry and went to bed. # Monas chestnut hair skipped over her squinting pistachio eyes. She stared into the flock of seabirds looming above, throwing bits of bagel and watching the birds fight over it midflight. They should take turns, so they all get some, Mona said. Theyre not as caring as you, Mona, Leo said. Mona watched them squawk and fight over the bread until there was no more. Lets go back to the table before the seagulls realize were out of bread, Leo said. Mona and Leo headed back across the sand to the Marriott. Leo put his shoes back on when they reached the stairs. They walked to their table and sat down. Tiffany and the man from the bar were gone. Wait here, Mona, I have to go to the bathroom, Leo said. Dont fall in, Mona said with a smile. Leo smiled back and left through the tinted glass doors. He cut through the restaurant and into the lobby. Leo was greeted by an out of order sign on the door. He went to the front desk to find an alternative. Excuse me, is there any other bathroom I can use in here? Im sorry, youll have to go to the caf across the street, the concierge said. Leo crossed the road and entered the caf across the way. Leo maneuvered himself through the cramped maze of bodies and chairs to the back of the bistro. The bathroom door was locked. Leos body wouldnt allow him to leave, so he waited. Several minutes had passed before the bathroom was unoccupied. He rushed in and relieved himself. Leo went back to his table at the Marriott and was greeted only by Monas pink sandals. # Two days passed since the order came in. He headed to the workshop foyer, and worked under the vision of his peers. Leo removed a block of clay from the cabinet and a new set of tools from the drawer. After cutting the corners of the clay to form a crude oval, Leo honed in on the detail work. He worked through lunch, focusing in on every crease, divot, bump, and notch. With every crumb of clay that dropped from the face, a little bit of Leo emerged. Neurosurgeons performed sloppier work than Leo when he was focused. The moon rested comfortably in the sky
7

by the time Leo finished. Leo set the head alongside her body to dry overnight and fixed a quick meal before bed. Leo slept in on the fourth morning. He made his bed, fixed some breakfast and returned to the workshop. He gathered the body parts and took them to the molding station. Leo painted each limb with epoxy, then draped sheets of fiberglass on top to form the molds. Once the molds were finished, Leo brought them into the casting station. He filled the molds with polystyrene and installed titanium joints. After the molding process, much of the minute details of the model were lost. Leo knew about this, but still added every detail to the model. To Leo, the details set his work apart. Even if no one knew the wrinkles were there, he did, and the personality remained intact. While the parts hardened, Leo went upstairs for some food. Now was time for the painting. Leo sprayed each part with a thin coat, layering shades of skin on the body. Leo took a fine brush and painted in the lips and eye brows before moving onto the eyes. The brush Leo used for the eyes only had a handful of hairs. He dipped the brush into the pistachio paint, and stroked each fine strain of the iris. He assembled the mannequin and stood it up. He stared into the face of his creation, hoping for some sort of reaction, but was met with nothing. Twenty years of mindless routine since her disappearance and nothing to show for it but a paid mortgage. The next day, Leo decided to go out for breakfast, leaving his tousled comforter strewn over the mattress.