Love & Other Ephemeral Arts

Chapter 5

Day two. I still hadn't heard from Dianne.

It was when the bell rung that I realized.
She would probably stop this childish behavior the next day. Tops. If she hadn't heard about the Anatomy assignment, that is. I sighed. The good thing about Dianne dodging me was that there was no need for Jared and I to dodge her. Still, I had told him in class that we should meet in his car, which he always parked relatively far from the epicenter of the student exit.

I breathed in. The air was dry today, with a mild breeze that smelled of trees and wilderness. I adjusted my thin scarf so that it would cover my collarbone too, and kept walking until I reached Jared's car, a matte black Audi resting peacefully under a pine tree. I stared at the color and was mesmerized by it. I loved black. I loved matte colors. It was just perfect. Then I remembered I didn't really own a car and a slight jealousy started setting in.

I walked towards the front of the car and, much to my surprise, found Jared already sitting on the driver seat. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with my previous reaction towards his car.

I opened the passenger door.

"Hey," I said as I came in. I closed the door. "Hate your car, by the way."
There were two types of car smell: that which like a whole load of chemicals which made me want to puke, and that which was halfway between new leather and chocolate which I could sink in forever. And Jared's car had the latter. I tried to breathe in as deeply as I could without making it quirky.

"Yeah, I can tell," he answered, that same smile not leaving his lips, as he started the engine. "We've got to drop by at my house," he said, maneuvering out of the parking space. I looked at him sideways. "I actually forgot to get what I wanted to show you. Sorry. Hope you don't mind." He turned his head and I could really tell he was sorry, even angry at himself, his eyes maybe even begged for forgiveness.

"It's okay," I assured, as if it wasn't that much of a deal. But I couldn't quite believe that I was going to see this guy's - the museum guy's house. Well that escalated quickly, I told myself, half amused, half terrified.

I looked through the window as we left College behind.
"So what is it that you want to show me?" I asked, my eyes still on the outside of the car. "It better be an amazing idea," I smiled to myself. And I really hoped it was. It was obvious that he would be a great model for me, but I was going to be his too. It would actually be the first time anyone drew me. And I wanted it to be decent, at the very least.
"If I told you now, I'd ruin the surprise." Through the window I could see him, looking straight towards the road, his perfect profile standing out over the background of conifers. His sharp silvery eyes seemed to cut deep into the cars ahead, like recently-sharpened blades.

His head suddenly turned to me, specifically to what I guess was my own reflection on the window. I quickly changed the focus, trying to avoid those shiny soul-carving eyes, pretending to have a sincere interest in the trees beyond. I could just hope he hadn't caught me staring.
"Luckily for you it's not meant to be a surprise, but part of a project," I decided to answer, as if I hadn't even noticed his eyes on me.
He said nothing and I focused on his reflection again only to see how he rolled his eyes. I smiled sidedly. And he smiled too. And at that very moment it was very clear he knew I was staring at him through the window.

"I should put some music on," he said, starting to click some buttons on the steering wheel. He glanced at the tiny screen between us. "You look like a Lorde girl," he then added.
And he was right.
So I used sarcasm to lessen the awkwardness.
"Thanks, Alex. Again," I smiled as I said it. He kept on pressing buttons.
"I didn't ask Alex about it. It's your realistic idealism that gives you away."
I laughed, and instinctively turned my head in his direction. He didn't take his eyes off the road, however.

I realized The Louvre had started playing, not too loudly, the singer's velvet voice flooding the car in a subtle but solid way.
"Don't give me that look. It's obvious," he said with conviction, eyes fixed on the road. Meanwhile lingering guitar chords played in the background.
"That's creepy. You know that, right?" I joked. Maybe my comment would have made more sense if I had told him that was my favourite song on Lorde's "Melodrama". But I thought it might sound like I was making a statement.

***

Jared's house seemed promising. Or at least it did from the outside.
"Stay here. It'll only be a second," he said when we were in his porch.
I couldn't even answer and he had already entered the house, leaving the door half open. It was his words that kept me from entering.

"Yeah, sure," I sighed, annoyed. And I was starting to think he was somewhat a gentleman, I thought, wrapping my arms around myself. The air was starting to get chilly.

Suddenly I heard a feminine voice coming from inside. It was reproachful and authoritative, but I couldn't really make out what exactly was being said. Someone rushed downstairs but the steps faded away into the insides of the house. And just as a middle aged woman opened the door completely, I could tell I found myself in front of Jared's mother.

"Hey there. You must be the project girl. Please come on in," she said in a sigh of defeat.
It sounded like it was him going up the stairs again. I heard Jared's complaining voice coming from inside, making me hesitate. To which his mother turned her head and answered:
"Oh, you zip it! Didn't I teach you any manners at all?" She then turned back to me, whispering, "For God's sake," while shaking her head. "Thought I'd raised a boy; turns out I've raised a grumpy cat."
I couldn't help but smile at her comment. I wasn't expecting his mother to be this way.
"Please excuse my son's unhospitality. I do what I can to try to make a man out of this beast," she said smiling with awareness. She gestured for me to enter the house.

As I entered, I was shocked by the height of the ceilings.
"It's okay," I said automatically, looking up and around. The walls of the house were full of abstract Mondrian - looking paintings which hung perfectly straight from the walls. Even though I had never liked the style I had to admit it somehow suited the house, it gave an air of sober modernity to the whole place.
"It's not, but I get you're being polite. And that's appreciated around here."
She told me her name was Anabelle, to which I answered with mine, while she walked ahead with decision until she reached what seemed to be the living room. The place had the same air as museums: the smell of oil paints, free space almost everywhere you looked, and a seemingly unsustainable neatness.

"So, what's your thing?" She asked me with the lively carelessness of small talk.
"I," I hesitated. What was my thing? "I like illustration," I managed to word just in time so that my overthinking wouldn't be too evident.
"Interesting," she said while gesturing for me to sit down on the sofa, clearly trying to make up for her son's rudeness, while she went for a white leather armchair. "Jared just bought one the other day."
"What?" I asked softly, not fully convinced I knew what she meant.
"An illustration," she answered. And just like she had sat down, she quickly stood up.
"Oh," I said, ashamed of having had to ask.

She headed towards a corner of the room, where there seemed to be a canvas covered in a dark blue blanket.
"He still has to find a place for it. It isn't really my style, but I must admit it's beautiful."
She carefully withdrew the cloth until she uncovered it completely.

It wasn't until she held it in her hands in my direction that I realized it was one of my illustrations.