Two

WE WERE LAUGHING by the time we got to Fundamentals. We’d each received a text from Lissa, but it was just a smiley. Then Melody started trying to figure out what the emoticon was for cunnilingus. :p(|) That degenerated into us sending texts back and forth about the kinds of boobs you could represent (o)(o), an erection 8===, fellatio :-O=8, and asshole (*). We were still trying to figure out threesome when we walked into class looking at our phones and giggling.

Everyone was quiet and staring at us. Obviously, Doc had been saying something about the painting since he had a slide of it displayed on the screen when people entered the classroom.

“Oh geez,” I whispered. “Are we late?”

“No.”

“You are not late, Tony. I called the rest of the class yesterday and asked them to come fifteen minutes early. Everyone will get out fifteen minutes early as well.”

“I didn’t get a message.”

“No, I wanted to discuss this piece with the class without you for a few minutes. Now, if you’ll join us, I was just asking, what is it about this painting that makes it so special?” There was a general murmur and a suggestion of technique, freedom, composition. Doc kept shaking them off. Finally, Melody stood up and walked to the front of the class. I could see Doc begin to smile as she got to the front of the room.

“All right,” she said, facing the class. “I confess. It’s my ass.” She turned around and bent over. For a second, I thought she was going to moon the class, but she kept her jeans on. Everyone started clapping. Melody turned around, bowed, and came back to sit beside me. I was blushing. She was giggling. When the commotion died down a bit, Doc started speaking again.

“Lovely as your ass is, I’m looking for something else. Kate, you were there. You watched most of it take shape. What do you think?”

“It’s the connection between the artist and the model,” she said firmly. “When you look at some of the great portraits we’ve studied, those that touch the viewer most ... it’s always about the interaction between the model and the artist.”

“Yes. The connection is there. It is seldom a conscious decision. You can’t walk into the studio and just say, ‘I’m going to connect with this model.’ But sometimes something magical happens and the link is there. That is when art speaks to us.”

“What about abstract art?” Sandra asked.

“You mean the kind of art that you look at and ask yourself, ‘What is it?’ If you are in doubt, there is probably a weak connection. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Artists can connect with many things. Everyone who paints has to paint a still life or landscape at one point or another. Most are mere exercises in technique, rendering, and lighting. But then you come to that sublime connection, like with Monet’s Water Lilies, and suddenly you are lost in the simplicity of the connection. But not in all of his paintings. Of the 250 Water Lily paintings by Monet, scarcely half a dozen draw the viewer into the connection between artist and subject. The same is true of abstraction. If the artist has connected with the subject, it is likely that the viewer will as well. But it is rare. The artist must be in a unique frame of mind. The model or subject must have a deep connection—real or imagined. The skill must be there to reveal it. The rest of the time, we rely on technique, composition, lighting ... all the things you have mentioned this morning.”

I was a bit embarrassed and Doc never did mention what he’d talked to the rest of the class about before Melody and I got there. Mercifully, he moved on to normal topics and we discussed the techniques and paint choices for doing large scale murals. It seems that doing a dry plaster piece like the one in the Admin Building was really different than doing an outdoor mural on a building. Doc showed slides of several paintings on the walls of buildings and talked about how the surface was prepared. He rewarded everyone for showing up fifteen minutes early with an extra fifteen off at the end and the promise of a short midterm on Thursday. It was nice getting out of Fundies half an hour early. That meant we had time to get lunch before I went to Art Orientation and Melody went to her textiles class. Sandra fell into step beside us.

“I can’t believe you did that, you tramp!”

“I’m not a tramp! But did Doc Henredon really just say I had a cute ass?”

“A lovely ass. Now that everyone knows it’s yours, you’re going to get asked out a lot. Better put a leash on her, Tony.”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” I answered. Amy was just coming into the cafeteria from her Advertising Fundamentals class when we got there. Sandra immediately started telling her about Melody’s comment in our Studio Fundamentals class. That set them off and I easily excused myself to go to class before they had finished discussing exactly how close I’d been to the ass in question.

The week progressed with minimal hassle and I did okay on my midterms. Having Melody in my bed every night was a definite plus. We pushed the two beds together and aside from falling through the crack in the middle once, we were able to pretend they were one bed and still be able to get a decent night’s sleep. I slept in Wednesday morning since we’d had the Art History exam on Monday and there was no class on Wednesday. Unfortunately, the only contact I had with Lissa was a call that said she had a business function to attend to on Wednesday and that she’d asked Rod to work with me during my practice time. I was disappointed, but said I loved her and we needed to get together. She just said she’d see us on Friday.

Rod is huge. He’s easily 6’7” and weighs about 250. The thing is, he’s also fast. He can stand in the middle of the court and pretty much reach all the walls. It’s hard to get anything past him. It was a good workout and I thanked him. He wished me luck in the tournament.

Finally, Friday came. Our last midterm was a life painting to be rendered in watercolor pencils while the model posed. That was a challenge, but I like watercolor and the pencils give you really fine control over detail. With that over, we said goodbye to our friends going home for spring break and raced from lunch to the gym. Lissa and I were teaching Melody a bit of racquetball before we started our workouts. But when we got there, we found Lissa already in the middle of her warmup. She was doing the same thing I’d done a few weeks ago when I’d beaten myself into exhaustion. Lissa was dripping and the ball was taking a punishment.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Melody asked.

“Yeah. I love her.”

“So do I.”

“Does that make us weird?”

“Not unless you don’t love me.”

“I do love you, Melody. I can’t believe how much I love both of you. I couldn’t do the painting without having both of you in it.”

“What do you think is bothering her?”

“I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out.” Lissa let the ball dribble past her and roll across the floor as she sank down on her knees. Melody and I went through the door into the court.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Melody said as we approached.

“Hello, love,” I echoed as we both bent down to kiss her. Her hands went to our heads and held us to her. She was gasping for air, almost sobbing. Then I realized some of the water running off her face wasn’t sweat. “Lissa...”

“We need to work first, and then talk,” she said quickly. “Tony, work with Melody on her serves for a few minutes while I get some water.” With that she rushed out the door. Melody and I looked at each other and decided the best bet was to show her we were listening and do what she said. We’d been working for more than twenty minutes before she came back. She’d changed into dry clothes and might have even taken a shower, but she walked onto the court with an air of authority that only the coach has. She gave a couple of instructions to us as we worked on Melody’s serve and then said it was time to work on competition. Melody left the court and sat to watch through the Plexiglas wall.