Chapter 23: Of Gods and Art - Pt .2 of 3

“So, you really think she’ll win?”, Aisha asked Perry listening to her poem readings she’d made to add to the stores website, highlighting which ones on a simple pad he thought captured her emotive voice best and should be re-recorded inside the small area on the upper floor, sound proofed and equipped with a simple setup dedicated to capturing everything with greater fidelity to audio and visual quality.

“Honestly, I hope so, the other artists all have a chance but personally I’ve never seen an art teacher or instructor turn down any of Kate’s work or efforts before. It’s not exactly a knack or luck, she just works so hard at it she doesn’t need either”, he said matter of fact “you on the other hand are a natural”, he said happily, as he put his over-the-ear headphones down satisfied with the picks he’d chosen for her to reproduce inside the their small, dedicated recording station upstairs.

“Your tone, inflections, consistent and uninterrupted flow, it’s all there,” he said as Aisha lit up with a smile, her cheeks slightly flushing under the complement. “But remember, you’re not just reading these, you’re painting a picture with your voice, bringing the words to life,” he added “and if you do decide to add a video element as you read these, Cane’s suggested I be there to make you as comfortable as you can be, whilst at the same time as authentic as you can when we work through a process that helps you through more pieces you might do in the future, how does that sound?”, he asked her.

Aisha nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with excitement. “That sounds amazing, Perry. Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. She couldn’t wait to start, feeling like she was on the cusp of something incredible. “Well, I’ll ask Cane, it might just be early enough that the sound proofing might still be effective against the growing crowd of people showing up, upstairs, allot of them I think are the family of the artist’s who were invited and could make it for the early show, along with their friends. If we get the go ahead we can have a skeleton crew down here, whilst we do a few audio recordings, and maybe later on tomorrow when we have more time after the event today, we can organize some video recordings if you’re up for it, which from experience shouldn’t be too hard to fit in. You up for that?” he said with a hopeful smile, already knowing the answer.

“Absolutely,” Aisha said her heart racing at the thought of the creative potential ahead. “I’ll just grab my book and we can head up,” she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she turned to the stairs leading to the upper floor. After concluding with Cane he agreed the store would be fine with a skeleton crew downstairs this early in the day, with the majority of the people perusing ultimately coming up the gallery section anyways, having advertised at least a week in advance. He’d honestly forgotten Kate was such a dedicated artist during that time his focus obviously elsewhere and on grander things, he thought with a cruel inner smile, as Cane gave the go ahead for a quick session before the gallery showing made even great soundproofing from everybody’s discussion of the artwork impossible to block out the charter building in the large, showroom, dedicated to becoming the stores refurbished art studio after the closing of the event in a day or two, after the final submission dates for all the invited artists was reached. In inviting Kate and her works he’d at least thought to have her provide a greater pool of contrast to the other artist’s material for the judging, with the hopes of showcasing her work, even if it had been a little last minute. He’d hoped correctly though that she’d surprise him with what she’d chosen from her selection of canvasses he knew she kept preserved in her closet area as part of her physical, working portfolio, from his overt and otherwise visits. “Just make sure to let her take the lead once she begins and make it quick, I don’t think I’ll be able to hear myself think before too long, let alone what effect it could have on the recordings”, Cane said, as Perry gave a quick thumbs up for confirmation amongst the growing crowd. Strategically downstairs the morning crew chosen for early opening had placed art books showcasing local, published talents, generated and gathered by the local art society, the profits of which were split on mutually agreed terms with the store and artists, which had been a brilliant move by Mrs. Florence and Cane to encourage community and local art development.

Inside the recording booth a simple wooden table shared between them held up a recording mic sensitive enough to capture every pitch and cadence change but not enough to produce undue distortion due to any external sound. Aisha took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on the book she’d brought with her, the pages dog-eared with love and use, her fingers lightly caressing the spine. From the list of approved short poems Perry had circled on his pad she’d record five of them one at a time and they quickly review background noise penetration levels before either deciding to move on redoing it.

“One of the things we always make sure everyone understands straight away is this booth shouldn’t be used for the purposes of abusing its soundproof qualities when using it”, Perry began “the last thing we want for anyone using it, is to feel trapped either, in case you have claustrophobia or you feel uncomfortable for any reason around the person or persons recording you and pressured by them to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Not to suggest this happens but to inform everyone who comes in that the door for this same reason also has a “please be quiet recording in progress” sign hanging on the outside of it for a reason along with no lock on the door. We don’t want to create a situation where you feel trapped for any unforeseen reason”, he said with a serious tone as Aisha nodded in understanding.

“Okay”, he said as he setup the mic for background noise reduction and voice clarity with a helpful preset on one of the stores laptops stored in the room. “Whenever you’re ready, just say the poems name, the author and start after a gentle pause, keep the pace steady and just remember we tend to forget just how much faster we tend to read in our heads than we can actually reproduce vocally. The aim is in developing a good working pace and presentation that matches the material like what Joey did with his Dr.Seuss live reading in the reading area downstairs last week”, he said to encourage her.

Aisha took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she opened her book to the first bookmarked page. The bookmark itself was the poem inspired by one of the books pieces.

“I keep thinking about you

How the past moulds my memories and

How your face fills them all

Whether I chose to let you in or not

I keep thinking about you

How the present holds my future and

How your words fill them all

Whether I chose to let them in or not

I keep thinking about you

How everything first started

How your love filled me, whole

Whether I chose to let it or not

Mother I miss you now, forever and more”

Perry couldn’t help but feel a little choked up as he heard the words delivered so softly, with a gentle sorrow growing in every word. Perry was by no means an art critic, poetry was not his forte but he could recognize pure emotion when it struck him in the face. He stopped the recording, letting her know they’d finished recording as he asked tentatively “are you okay?”, he asked with a gentle look of concern, knowing that the poem was more than just words to her.

“Yeah, I’m okay, it’s just ... it’s really personal to me,” Aisha said, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s about my mother, she ... we lost our father a number of years ago and my new stepfather didn’t treat her well, he was ... is a cheating piece of...”, she swore in Arabic to Perry’s surprise her tone though clearly delivering what she meant if not her face as it contorted in an uncharacteristic rage before she saw the look on his own face of worried concern and slowly but effectively began to control her breathing and calmed down.”Sorry”, she said a slightly embarrassed look on her face “even after all this time the wound feels fresh, despite the fact that my mother did divorce the douchebag for proven infidelity and received a nice lump sum to live off for all the pain he’d brought her and our family. The worst part was when I first confronted her about it and she refused to take my side, I believed my mother was completely infatuated with him by then. He was a much younger man and he was taking advantage of the money my father had left us in his last surviving will. Luckily he never got his grubby hands on it, he didn’t even last a year into the marriage, which was what the will stated he’d have to do to protect my mother from people who want to take advantage of her”, she said uncertain at first why she was telling him this much as the conversation grew.

“My cousins uncles ... we just call him “Uncle Larry”, Perry began “otherwise it just causes a headache and people have to draw out the whole family tree and it’s a mess of conflicting opinions, anyway Larry fell in love got taken for every penny down to the clothes on his back by a woman who’d used the same trick on other men and women, some ending a whole lot worse than he did. In his case he had us, his family. It wasn’t until years later Larry was contacted as next of kin, still legally married to her, she’d died of a heroin overdose shortly after celebrating another successful venture. They asked him “what would you like written on her tombstone”, since he was the only person who responded to their attempts to retrieve family or friends” Aisha listened on genuinely intrigued “I kid you not he convinced after his own personal retelling of the events of their relationship to make a cast out of his handprint so they could carve it into the tombstones face, with the idea that there are a few select people in this world which you want to slap so hard it’ll leave a handprint on their gravestone”, he said with a mirthless chuckle “and as for her epitaph he simply had them write “had it coming”, he finished with a raising of both eyebrows at once in a comical fashion.

Aisha responded with a small laugh, the tension in the room breaking slightly. “Your uncle sounds like quite the character,” she said, wiping at the corner of her eye. “But thank you for sharing that with me, it’s ... oddly comforting to know that even in the face of something so cruel, there’s a bit of humour to be found.”

“Some light in the darkness yes” he conceded “you ever make up with your mother if I may ask?” he said, his curiosity genuine and empathetic.

Aisha nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We did, eventually. It took time, and a lot of talking, but we found our way back to each other. She realized the mistakes she made and I understood that she was just trying to find happiness in a hard world,” she replied, her voice carrying a weight of understanding and forgiveness. “It’s not always easy to recognize the wrong path until you’re on it,” she added philosophically.

“Hopefully, we’ll all learn how to get out of our own ways some day and make it easier on ourselves and others”, he said wistfully. Aisha agreed, feeling a warmth in her chest at the thought of her mother’s redemption. “I hate to get ahead of myself but is there anyone you’d want to dedicate these poems to? You can dedicate them individually or as a whole. Either way it works and shows a personal touch to anyone listening”, he said, his voice gentle as he changed the subject slightly to get her mind off the painful past.

“Just to my mother,” Aisha replied, her voice steady now. “The poems are all about her journey, her strength, and the lessons she taught me, even if they were hard to learn,” she added, her eyes shimmering with a mix of sadness and gratitude.

He nodded. They finished recording four more poems, setting then up in the “Artists Corner”’ that shared part of the main website. So far it included works from present and past employees which were all content to leave it up. Under “current” or “new” Aisha’s poems popped up, videos with screens dedicated to only the words as a whole, as a delicate script on an otherwise blank paper-like background like a scroll. Aisha’s voice came our clearly in the background, capturing the full length of the emotion portrayed in their sessions without interruption of thankfully disruption.

It was a consistent template they used and easy to refit with new verses, poems, and haikus, whatever they needed really. As Aisha reviewed her work, Perry went to confirm the recordings with Cane, wondering if they’d officially picked Kate and who would have followed in her steps, as he made his way up the steps he caught Cane just by the landing welcoming new visitors into the gallery alongside Mrs. Florence engaged in idle chit chat with her and another older woman her age, with dark, jaw length hair, milky white skin and red lipstick, coupled with her brown, depthless eyes and a seemingly uncharacteristic energy he’d rarely seen in anyone outside of Cane in his age group, as he caught the words “Nelly” and “bug”, before they burst into laughter as one and the dark haired woman punched him playfully in the shoulder before “Nelly” said “admit it, you loved every second of it and you’d do it all over again if you could”, she said with a sly, brilliant smile that was infectious and at the same time maddening as Cane simply said “oh aye, so would the highway cop that joined us behind the billboard”, he said with a playful grin of his own as Florence mock gasped in an exaggerated fashion “well he was very empathetic, he took a look at you and saw a virile young man struggling to reach beyond his grasp”, she said with an alluring change of tone and look of longing on her face “and he saw me and my offer to prevent the roadside accident we’d both inevitably cause and took me up on it”, she seductively purred as Cane stood stock still and countered with “and I see myself getting into a another road accident when my future betrothed misinterprets your glorious nature for anything more than harmless teasing”, he said good naturedly, knowing Nelly was only having some fun at his cost. “Let alone what your gracious wife would think of sharing your wonderful “personality” without both your consenting agreements”, he said slyly as he eyed Florence.

“Oh? And who this charming individual be, whose finally laid claim to you fully”, Florence said “if you must know, then it’s only fair I tell you now after you’ve already accepted her as a potential frontrunner based on her merit alone”, he said as he spied Perry out of the corner of his eye before welcoming him over. “If anything let me introduce you to her brother”, he said as he gripped Perry by each shoulder lightly and introduced him to their visitors, contributors and members of the local art society responsible for providing the wealth of people they saw gathered there along with everyone else who’d shown up so far to appreciate your sisters work, along with all the other artists.

“Yeah, hi I’m Perry, I’m very grateful you could squeeze my sister in at the last minute, we all appreciate it greatly”, he said with sincerity, trying to keep the conversation flowing, as he approached Mrs. Florence and the woman known as Nelly next to her. ‘And which artist is your sister Perry?”, she asked as he took in the expression on her face, already he could almost picture her rolling through a mental catalogue of all the artists present, eliminating those yet to arrive and be judged before days end and cutting it down to those who had impressed and even surprised her with their works. Perry as a way of hinting who it could be said “I’m sure you’ve noticed her, she had to leave early due to her job, so she couldn’t stay long after her work was on display and judged. Some would call it her Achilles heel that she had to leave before being able to get the praise her work truly merits from her peers, I call it her greatest strength that she manage to find the will to tear herself away to go to her day job and wonder how she’s been awarded for her efforts, until she manages to come back after her shift has ended if not before then”, he said with no small amount of pride in her sister and her work ethic.

Mrs. Florence’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Ah, Kate! Of course, all her works were fantastic but her piece on Achilles was pardon the pun divine”, she said before she turned to Cane and said “but I suspect you already knew that before you entered her into the event”, she said with a knowing smile “I knew she had a passion that she wanted a higher education, I did manage to glance once or twice at her works tucked in discreetly at home so I knew she must have some reasonable amount of talent but I hoped like the rest of her it would be truly amazing”, he said with a knowing smile as he nodded towards the corner where Kate’s “Paris and Achilles” painting was displayed, the velvet rope had been moved to allow better viewing and had been a hot topic of discussion for a number of the early arrivals.

“Well said”, Mrs Florence said. The fact that Cane was clearly forty years Kate’s senior didn’t seem to disturb her as Nelly interjected “well me and the Mrs are gonna’ grab some breakfast and come back in abit, let the artist’s converge, keep the works safe, especially from themselves, nerves coupled with scrutiny is always a factor here on their ability to cope. Let them know their work is safe and that their free to leave it here under your care okay?”, she asked her voice now more tempered and far less teeming with building energy just beneath the surface as Cane took her hand and kissed it gently “for an old friend consider it done”, which brought a wide smile to her lips before Cane turned to Florence and said “we must share notes later on, I would have never believed it had I not seen with my own two eyes how well you’ve managed to tame this wild and treacherous rascal I used to know”, he said with a playful smile and a good natured tone in his jabbing, as Nelly swiftly snatched her hand from his grip and eagerly punched him playfully in his arm before following Florence. Her hand raised to her lips as she giggled into it “I forgot she had a mean right hook that girl”, he said feigning injury as Nelly hooked her arm around Florence’s own and they walked down from the landing, blowing him a raspberry over her shoulder with a leering, playful smile as she stuck her tongue out like the immaturish woman he knew and had once lived with when they’d both been young.

Florence waved back at him as they made their way down the stairs to the ground floor. Perry saddled up to Cane, unsure what to ask so he went with the obvious. “What was that all about?”, to which Cane said “the perfect example if what getting older looks like if you allow it to Perry, maturity should not be seen as the only option, just one of them. Florence as you can probably guess compliments her with her often serious nature and studious approach. Nelly revolves around the opposite method, inspiring those around her with a fondness and energy that can’t be manufactured but it’s not the only part of her. Her personality reserves part of Florence’s influence on her to act accordingly, she cares enough to reign herself in for both their sakes, as a result her partner can relax and allow herself to occasionally get swept up in her when the time calls for it, which can always be appreciated”, he said fondly.

“She’s not crazy though is she? I kind of get those vibes off her”, Perry said meekly as he stared questioningly at Cane. His immediate response was to laugh heartily as he led Perry into the active gallery, arm on his shoulder as he said definitively “the best one’s always are”, with a fond tone.

During the last half hour of her work shift Kate called ahead to her parents, telling them she’d be going Gideon’s for the late closing of the gallery event where her work was displayed with the intent of finding out if she’d won a position at the store at least temporarily before she went off to artschool after summer break for the new intake. They were both glad to hear she’d finally been able to save up enough for tuition and were more than happy to meet her at the book store to see how her art had flourished, knowing their daughter liked to be abit of a perfectionist and normally keeping to herself when it tended to her work.

Arriving at the store Kate felt the excitement of seeing her work on display. She knew it was a big deal for Cane to invite her and she didn’t want to let him or her family down. Making her way up via the stairs by the entrance she held her breathe as she met both Perry and Cane at the main landing. She’d decided to shift back into her purple amethyst dress, she hoped the dragon design on it brought her luck as they waved her in, helping her make her way to her own art display through the throng of people gathered there as the official preliminary judging had was concluding, the final artists had until normal closing hours tomorrow to enter their work unless something like an extreme exception presented itself. She heard all this explained to the crowd at large, just to emphasize what had already been advertised online and through physical adverts locally. Kate honestly just felt grateful she’d been included having not really taken the time between her daily job and everything else going on in her life to become an official member of the local art society. She’d always been single minded and driven about her artwork, having sought out courses, night school lessons and pretty much anything online she thought could benefit her style she wouldn’t really deem or label as any kind of genre just “realistic” for lack of a better word, something you could react to.

Ahead with Perry and Cane flanking her they made their way to the front of the crowd, as a space had been left open for Mrs. Florence, Cane taking his position beside her. She quickly found her parents as they stood at the front of the crowd as they began announcing the three successful candidates with the highest rated work. They started with the lowest combined ratings and moved upwards, as the crowd shifted with each artists three pieces of highlighted work with the clever use of overhead lights isolating the rest of the gallery in darkness as soft light graced each of the cordoned off pieces. Each work had its title called out and individual scores given by both judges before combined for a collective total out of sixty. Each artist was celebrated in turn as clapping ovations filled the room for their art as they finally reached her.

“At an almost perfect combined score of 58.2 out of sixty, Kate”, both Florence and Cane announced in unison respectfully, neither overdramatic nor undersold, as she stepped into the soft pool of light highlighting her work without robbing it of any of its brilliance as her dress sparkled warmly in, the refracting amethyst crystals creating a warm glow around her, her parents beamed with pride at their daughters achievement, as the crowds surge of applause surrounded her.

Kate smiled warmly at the crowd as they clapped, feeling a rush of relief and excitement. She had never felt more seen and validated in her artistic endeavours, offering a short bow as judges reminded the crowd that the final entries who had yet to submit their works for whatever reason and would have until tomorrow evening at the normal closing hours for submission and that they should feel free to show up then for any new updates following their potential scores that could be awarded as they encouraged an appreciation for the arts, the local art society and of course the store for opening the gallery to the public and its future use as a working studio for the confirmed artists after the conclusion of the event.

When they all collected together, Florence and Cane met up with Kate and her parents as they made their way downstairs, through the parting crowd. Several staff members mingled with the new artists and the crowd, making sure nothing got out of hand or if anyone needed help in case of an emergency and someone was always present.

Downstairs Kate watched as her mother’s eyes light up as she watched a black haired, woman with milky white, smooth skin and bright red lipstick turned round towards them as if waiting for them in particular “Barbie”, she almost screamed out. She was dressed in a nice black form-fitting suit ending in a matching skirt that cut attractively on the upper thighs showing off clean marble-like legs that only added to the irresistible, untethered nature of the older woman, who although she was clearly in her mother’s age bracket moved and acted like a much younger woman, as age lines though pronounced when she smiled broadly like she was now, only made the act infectious to those around her, as her natural aging grace made her warm and approachable above all.

Kate watched as her mother suddenly called out “Nell!” in equal enthusiasm both women rushing and gripping eachothers arms as they jumped on spot with an excitement that left all except Cane and Florence standing there slightly nonplussed at the unexpected joviality. It was like watching two long lost sisters reuniting before Cane interjected and said “not to make an inappropriate observation Robert but if you and your wife weren’t ... em how do I put this lightly ... swingers before ... lookout, that might change”, he said with a joking smile as he slapped him playfully on the shoulder, making his way down the stairs beside him “but I would be remiss if I didn’t introduce you to that lady here who is also the judge, Florence, she’s her wife”, he said with a good natured grin as he made his way down the last of the steps to meet up with the trio of women. Robert along with Kate by his side and Perry behind them stood awkwardly by for a moment as the two friends chattered excitedly as Kate and her father recalled how their mother had recalled “Nelly” the woman whom Cane had dated and almost suffered chaotic motorcycle accident due to her sexual antics, the words “incredible and black leather bodyglove” roaming their minds as Kate’s her mother’s words and Cane’s joke filled her mind.

When they finally did catch up with the group Cane seemed to be retelling a particularly funny joke as they all burst out laughing. “You poor babies”, Nelly called out “let me assure you despite anything these two might have said”, she indicated to Cane and even her mother “I’m harmless”, she said “well ... mostly ... maybe ... ask her”, she indicated with a pointing thumb towards Florence with a broad, disarming smile as Florence shook hands with Robert as she said warmly “she mostly is ... except when she’s not, which is why I love her”, which got a friendly aw from both Cane and Barbara as they happily kissed, which got a deeper more profound aw from them “change of mind”, Nelly said hurriedly “I want them both now”, as infectious laughter rung between them both before Florence playfully hushed her.

“Anyways congrats Kate”, Nelly said warmly “I confess seeing both you and your mom at the same time sorta’ gave me a feeling like nostalgic vertigo. She didn’t even have to tell me before I knew you were her daughter, I just had to imagine you with blonde hair and I almost couldn’t help myself from calling you by the nickname I have for your mother”, she said with a wink at Barbara who rolled her eyes and pretended to be slightly embarrassed but was also blushing at the compliment. Perry and Cane feigned and equal amount of convincing ignorance at this subtle fact as Nelly pointed it out, smiling with equal parts genuine warmth and piqued curiosity at the small epiphanous revelation like everyone else.

Kate though couldn’t help but wonder what her mother and this woman had been up to that would make her so obviously fond of her, especially given the way she was dressed, she had to admit there was something about her that screamed confidence and sex appeal, which was something she hadn’t seen much of in her mother, she was more of a comfort and support kind of person, but it was clear she had another side to her that she hadn’t yet been privy to.

“I have to wonder though”, she began with an almost evil twinkle evil in her eye “did she ever tell you about Christine?”, her smile was all tooth and gum, like a friendly trap, sharpened waiting as if to pounce almost, as even Aisha nearby was drawn in with the rest of them. Her mother beamed as she gestured with her own twinkle that she continue.

Dark, depthless eyes captured their attention like an apex predators, the moment of the utter focus held on a razors edge, before she leapt at her chance to retell their story. “Imagine the male ego as a car”, she said her grin irresistible, “and now imagine what would happen when you found out someone had stolen it”, she said with wicked smile. “Fair to say the owner was a fan of Stephen King, so when his cherry-red nineteen-fifty-eight Plymouth Fury suddenly vanishes, with no explanation and no idea where it might show up next, he got abit worried and more than abit superstitious. See this gentleman had an ego matching the size of his iconic car, only he didn’t know how to turn it off as easily, he’d target the engineering department, condemning them as highly overrated and overpaid jocks with monkey wrenches. Everyone else called them the “elephants” because they had minds like sharpened steel traps. Unfortunately this same professor underestimated the effect he had on the major populace of the teaching staff aswell as the highly decorated student body. So one by one yours truly...”, she indicated towards Barbara with a fiendish smile that could have swallowed a Cheshire cat whole “and some unnamed partner in crime she blatantly and most unabashedly used, to convince her fellow student and teacher alike to an act of harmless retribution, in an attempt to curb the professors expected natural decline from general hose bag, to all out self-appointed arrogant usurper to the universities legitimacy. His previous accolades and future contributions to his field was one of the reasons why he was first transferred to the university. We later learned that his absolute uncompromising disregard for other people’s feelings and general ignorance of its effect had over time been one of the major factors to his moving. He wasn’t incapable of understanding emotional or social cues, he just and pardon my French did not give a shit! He was slamming doors, slamming windows, cursing out students, some actually asked to be transferred to other teachers lecturers classes within the same department until they had to start declining this too, others outright left unable due to continue due to the emotional stress of mere proximity. So we devised a plan. It was harmless, one of the teachers would form a wax cast of his car keys, the “elephants” would make as many copies as we needed for when he left Christine overnight in their workshop for his monthly tune-up, he said “it was the least they could do for the privilege of working in the same school of higher education as he did”, safe to say he liked repeating that statement to anyone he saw fit to classify as below him. Imagine this on a daily basis, both teachers and students, twelve hours a day of wondering when you were next, whether it was in his class, outside of it or even in your own department and the self control needed not to simply return his car in a burning heap on his lawn instead of doing what we decided to do”, she said allowing a pregnant pause to weigh heavily in the air as her eyes shifted from face to face capturing their own individual expressions, not very far removed from what she’d seen in herself in those days in the mirror or in her friends or even teachers faces.