“Alexandra, I haven’t seen you enrolled in any of the department classes.”
“I’m a business major.” I’d seen plenty of art teachers with eccentric quirts. Pascal Frasier, my old teacher in Fort Worth, was beyond strange. However, Professor Lynch wore a jacket and glasses and seemed relatively normal.
“But nothing in the art department?”
“I guess I never thought about it. I’m in the honors program.”
“You still have the rough edges of a young amateur, but excellent potential. I see something in these.” The professor looked at me closely. “I’m not sure the others see it.”
“I um, don’t understand?”
“Take the one with the tree. Some would say it’s a simple landscape with an off-center oak lit up like a pine on Christmas Day. Instead, I see a lone sapling that doesn't seem like it belongs with the shared dirt the tall tree was forced to grow in. The sprouting limbs seem to push out, keeping the surroundings at a distance.”
My stomach dropped a little as I tried to look away. I bit down hard on my lip and focused on the knot of his tie. He seemed to pay no attention and continued to the next one.
“And in Flecks of Red, that’s an interesting choice of color to bring to the front. I see many facets of the rainbow in the building. The letters of the store sign itself are old yellow bulbs. But you picked to highlight the red outline. Red usually means love and passion or sometimes anger and violence.”
I felt sick. I didn’t like this one bit. Who was this person reading my pictures like a deck of tarot cards? I hoped he stayed clear of the blue highlights surrounding the pond and the boy fishing. My insides couldn't take a breakdown of that image.
“Do I have your attention now? There’s a unique style but you have something deeper hidden beneath the simple sketches. I see emotion and vulnerability. That’s a natural talent, which can’t be taught. Here's my card. Stop by and we can discuss next semester. Maybe you should look at doing both.”
“Ok, I'll think about it.” A pressing weight in my chest seemed to push the words out.
“That's fine. Think about it. Dream about it. Whatever it takes for you to accept it’s the right decision. It would be a shame for your talent to go to waste.”
“Thank you.”
I left in search of the others feeling very confused. I talked briefly to Sadie, who was engrossed in a discussion with a shaggy-haired political science major, wearing a white shirt, tie, skinny jeans, and tennis shoes. Not an odd combination for the room, but something out of the ordinary for Sadie. Yet, she never passed up a good conversation involving foreign policies. This room was prime fodder for Sadie to find a kindred spirit.
Making my way through the crowd, I located the others. Jess didn’t see me approaching, but I heard the low words spoken in a heated exchange with Mrs. Mason. Pin pricks etched up my back at the implications of the conversation. I wished I’d never heard it.
Brushing past them, I made my way to the front for the showcase award. I tasted the nervous bile forming in my throat. What if I won? What if I didn’t? The news came with a bittersweet ending. Maybe I wanted it more than I realized. My hopes were crushed by a portrait of used tissues, which featured painted tears that symbolized dying Ethiopian children.
“I’m sorry, Al.” Jess wrapped an arm around my back for a side squeeze. It felt almost as good as the one I fought to give his body earlier in the evening.
“It’s ok.”
“You’ll get them next time, Pumpkin.” My dad patted me on the shoulder, trying to reassure me in his own way.
“Thanks, Dad.” I noticed his hand was intertwined with Caroline’s. The sight made me feel happy.
“I always knew you’d be a star. I framed a few and put ‘em up by the register. Can’t wait for you to see ‘em.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Caroline. Thank you.” I gave her a tight, sincere hug. She felt small beneath my arms, like I could crush her if I pressed too tightly.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of tonight, Alexandra.” I turned my full upright attention to Mrs. Mason, who looked extremely out of place in her pale pink, silk suit. I held back a chuckle when I glanced at the pearl necklace wound tight around her elegant throat.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You are doing an excellent job in school and your pictures captured the ranch beautifully.” The drawn out words stabbed me in the chest. Every syllable stressed dollar signs on my conscience in direct correlation to my school performance.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
My eyes flickered over to Dr. Mason, who nodded in agreement. He was always the quiet sort; very warm and patient. His kind blue eyes always reminded me of Jess. They were outlined in dark lashes, identical to his son’s.
Jess and I walked the group to the car for their drive back to Arlis. After many goodbyes, I got in the truck with Jess. I plopped down in the tan leather passenger seat, putting Sadie’s jewel-encrusted pumps on the dash. As we left the parking lot, I rolled down the window, feeling the cool breeze hit me in the face.
“Wanna go somewhere? It’s not that late.” His deep voice caught my attention, as he leaned back behind the wheel, driving with his right wrist.
Jess looked good tonight. Watching him, I felt that pull again, but it was more than just the physical attraction. Jess was part of tonight in a way that was years in the making. The intensity of our history allowed a sea of emotions to surface. I needed to go back to the dorms for some distance and perspective on the evening. Instead, I opened a can of worms.
“What did you have in mind?”
“We could try the new coffee place on sixth? Or…we could just go drivin' around for a while. Get out of here. It wouldn’t take long to ditch all of this if you want?” In the background, I heard Kenny Chesney’s voice in the truck. I knew Jess was itching for his favorite combination of dirt and twang, followed by parking and sitting on the tailgate of his truck.
“Maybe the coffee house.”
“Ok, it’s your night. Coffee it is.”
It was a public place and incapable of the hidden dangers involved around a dark, starlit night and my guard down. I watched the flash of street lights reflect off the window glass and felt Jess glance in my direction a few times.
“You ok?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“I don’t know.”
“You shouldn't be. Alex, you're good. It's just the first one.”
“I could draw a scribbly tornado and you would still say that.”
“That's not true and you know it.” He shot me a broody frown to emphasize his point.
“Don't give me that irritating look.”
“All my looks irritate you, so I don't think there’s any other option.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat. I tried to hide the small grin on my lips. “You exasperate me sometimes, Jessup Mason.”
“Damn! Big words and both names.”
“Shut up.”
“So what’d that professor want?” Jess asked, never missing a beat.
“Professor Lynch was interesting.”
“And?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a deep breath, looking back over at Jess. “He could see things in the drawings, like he understood them, I think.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I got his card. He wants me to come by his office next week to talk about getting into classes and being my mentor and shit.”
“I told you, Al. You’re good and you need to start realizing it. You should talk to him.”
“I can't just do art. Where is that going to get me in life? And I can’t do both. It would mean more classes and I would probably take more than four years. It's just going to be longer and cost more to do both.”
His eyes met mine on the last words. Explaining to him the turmoil I felt was like teaching ants to march backwards. The thoughts circulating through his shaggy head only had Mason dollars tied to them.