And despite everything that had happened that morning, I felt lighter. More connected to him. Like we’d crossed another threshold together. Whatever came next, we’d handle it, together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Majesty
I led Cami upstairs to the 101 classroom. The morning’s heaviness had lifted, replaced by the easy playfulness we’d found over breakfast.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see. It’s something I think you’ll enjoy.”
The classroom was warm and inviting when we entered, the smell of clay and paint filling the air. Several tables were set up with pottery wheels, and at the front of the room stood Eliana. She’d taken our class last week. I’d seen her during the workshop sessions, always quiet and observant. But here, in her element, she was transformed. Her dreadlocks were pulled up into thick curly coils pinned at the top of her head with two spirals hanging artfully in front. She wore paint-splattered overalls over a bright yellow shirt, and her smile was confident and welcoming.
“Welcome, everyone!” she called out as the last few couples filtered in. “I’m Eliana, and today we’re going to be creating clay sculptures together. This is a couples class, which means you’ll be working as a team on a single piece.”
Cami looked up at me with excitement in her eyes, and I felt something warm settle in my chest. This was what I’d wanted to give her today. Joy and creativity and connection.
“Find a table,” Eliana instructed. “Each station has everything you need. And don’t worry about getting messy. That’s half the fun.”
We claimed a table near the middle, and I helped Cami out of her coat. She was wearing a soft sweater, but Eliana handed out aprons to protect our clothes.
“Alright,” Eliana said once everyone was settled. “We’re going to start by centering your clay. This is a meditative process. It requires both partners to work together, to feel the clay and respond to it.”
She demonstrated, her hands confident and sure as she worked a lump of clay on the wheel. “One person will guide, the other will support. You’ll need to communicate constantly. Too much pressure and the clay collapses. Not enough and it won’t take shape.”
I looked at Cami. “You want to guide first?”
“I’ve never done this before. You should guide.”
“Then put your hands on mine. Feel what I’m doing.”
She moved in front of me, and I moved close to her pressing against her backside, my arms coming around to place my hands beneath hers. The position was intimate with me holding her in my arms.
I wet my hands and placed them on the clay, starting the wheel. The clay was cool and slick under my palms, and I began applying gentle pressure, coaxing it toward the center.
“Feel that?” I asked. “The way it wants to move off-center. You have to be firm but gentle.”
“Like dominance,” Cami murmured, and I smiled.
“Exactly like dominance.”
Her hands followed mine, learning the rhythm. When I increased pressure, she did too. When I eased off, she matched me. We moved together, and slowly the clay centered.
“Beautiful,” Eliana said, stopping at our table. “You two have great synchronization. Now, switch. Let Cami guide.”
We traded positions, and I put my hands on the outside of hers.
“Okay,” she said nervously. “Here goes.” She placed her hands on the clay, and I felt her hesitation.
“Don’t think,” I murmured against her ear. “Just feel. Let the clay tell you what it needs.”
She took a breath and began. Her movements were tentative at first, but as she gained confidence, they became surer. I guided her with gentle pressure, my hands on hers.
“There you go,” I praised. “Perfect. Just like that.”
I felt her relax against me, trusting me to support her. The wheel spun, the clay responded, and we worked together in a rhythm that felt almost sensual.
“Now,” Eliana announced to the class, “we’re going to shape your piece. I want you to create something that represents your relationship. It can be abstract or literal. But it should be something you both contribute to.”
