by K. F. Ridley
“This professor. He talks to us like we’ve never painted anything.”
“Well, actually I hardly heard a word,” I confess with mortification.
He’s in a hurry. “This guy thinks we’re in kindergarten. Our house. He wants an 11x14 in oil of our house, but it must come from our soul whatever the heck that means. It’s due next week. This has to be some kind of joke.”
“Oh,” I respond confused, as if I’ve been slipped a drug.
“Got a class across campus. Gotta run.” and he bolts.
“Thanks,” I say as he jogs away. He probably thinks I’m stupid, and I’m beginning to think the same thing.
What’s wrong with me? Where did I go? It’s as if I developed A.D.D. overnight. I call Taylie on her cell as I walk to my car, but she doesn’t answer.
I can’t get Professor Bran out of my head. The entire drive home I can only picture his porcelain face, his bewitching eyes, his mute moving full lips, his dirty blond hair pulled back tight into a pony tail. I live with my father, so I’m used to strange, but this odd encounter freaks me out. It’s more out of the ordinary than my unordinary life.
Everything around me has become more unexplainable. As I pull into the driveway, I realize I never saw the Camaro. If it followed me I never realized it.
I walk through the front door and call out for Dad. He doesn’t answer.“Hi, Dad,” I say again a little louder. Still, there’s no answer so I walk toward the basement.
“Good day at school?” he finally responds passing by me as he walks down the squeaky wooden stairs leading to his sterile world.
“It was fine except for a strange professor I have in my art class.”
“Aren’t those people a little different anyway?” He’s one to talk and I’m one of‘those’ people.“What happened?” he asks, halfway interested while he mixes the yellow muck in a beaker.
“I don’t really know.”
“What does that mean?” he mumbles concentrating on pouring the precise amount of whatever he has from a flask.
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” He isn’t really paying attention to me anyway. His mind is focused on his science. “Dinner will be ready in a little bit. I’ll call you up when it’s time to eat.”
While heading up the stairs my cell rings. It’s Taylie. “I see where I missed your call. What’s up?”
“Something strange happened in art class.”
“What? What? Is it a guy?” Literally, I think men are all she thinks about.
“Yeah, but he’s my professor.”
“What? Are you kidding?” she says insinuating something inappropriate.
“Really, Taylie, calm down and get your mind out of the gutter. It’s like I wasn’t there. In class all I could do was stare at him. I sat in my chair the entire class and missed everything. I didn’t hear a word he said. The guy next to me had to tell me about our assignment. I was really out of it.”
“What’s he like?”
“Who? Jackson? I don’t know. He’s okay. This professor though, I don’t get it.”
“Maybe he likes you.”
“Is that all you think about? Let it go, Taylie. I’ve got to go feed Dad.” She can be so aggravating sometimes.
“See ya tomorrow at lunch.” She hangs up without getting a thing I said. Maybe I’m tired and making more of this than I should.
After dinner, I begin work on my project for Professor Bran’s class. He wants a painting from my soul. A painting of my home. How weird. What does that even mean? I haven’t ever had a conversation with my soul, so I’m not sure what he meant. What sticks in my mind are those appealingly toxic green eyes. Before I get very far, that’s what starts to appear on the canvas. Deep green and almond shaped. Perfectly formed how an eye should be; impeccable lashes that outlined each sclera whiter than Montana snow. I’ve painted his eyes without even thinking about it. I don’t understand what’s come over me. He mesmerized me, leaving me scared and excited at the same time. I’ve got to get it together to keep from losing my mind. I begin to worry I’m turning into my father.
I throw the painting to the side and pull out a fresh canvas. I agree with Jackson’s description of the assignment; ridiculous and elementary. I do it anyway, with those haunting green eyes staring at me from the corner of my studio.
3
I swallow the muck and leave Dad ’s lunch on the table. I make sure I don’t miss a dose especially considering Dad’s recent behavior. He’s been in a state of worry all week.
“Bye, Dad.” I leave without waiting for a response.
After Pottery, I head to The Recess to meet Taylie for lunch. I look a mess covered in clay. Every student wore an apron. It would’ve been nice if I’d known I needed one. Sometimes, I feel so inadequate. After throwing on the wheel, I went to the bathroom and cleaned up the best I could, but I still look pretty bad.
I sit down in a corner booth and try to hide, from whom I don ’t know. I guess everyone. If anybody looks close enough, they’ll probably think I’ve been mud wrestling.
The afternoon catches up with me and Taylie doesn’t show. The shop is less crowded as the day before. I drink my mocha alone. Well, at least I think I’m alone. I search the room looking for Taylie and I see him, four tables down, the blond guy. With no one standing between us, he stares at me hard. No expression. Nothing. What is he about? I wish Taylie would show up, and then my cell rings.
“ Where are you? Get your butt over here,” I demand. “I’m not gonna make it. We got out of class late and I’ve got another one in fifteen minutes,” she huffs. “Call me later.” She hangs up before I can tell her anything.
Great. Perfect. When I need her, she bails. Grabbing my books, I rush out. He follows behind me as I head for my car. Glancing back every so often, I see him walking unhurried as he traces my steps. How can he look so calm? I move at a fast walk, almost jogging. He glides in slow motion. Confident. No smile. No grimace. I’m sure he can see the fear on my face. He makes me nervous, but I don’t feel at all threatened. Logic tells me to get in my car and get home, but part of me wants to turn around and walk toward him. I listen to my logic. I guess that’s my Dad in me. Standing in front of Mansfield Library, he watches me get in my black Honda. I stare back, but my boldness has no effect on him. I sit in my car and time stands still for a moment. Air and space are the only things separating us.
“ Hey, girl!” Taylie opens the passenger door and I almost pee my pants.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Can you give me a ride? My professor cancelled class and now my car won’t crank.” She doesn’t have a care in the world, ever. It takes her a moment to noticeI’m shaking.
“Sorry, Ashe.” Her hyperactive melancholy becomes a quieter tone.
Panting, I tried to catch my breath.“Are you all right? What’s wrong?” she softly responds while patting my shoulder.
“That guy. You remember that blond guy built like the statue of David?”
“Oh, that guy. Yeah, I remember. How could I forget?”
“He followed me out to my car.”
“He walked you to your car?”
“No. He followed me out here. Look, he’s standing over there.” I point to the front of the library. He’s gone.“B… Bu… But he was there. Strange. I don’t know what he wanted. He followed me and stood there watching me.”
“You’re paranoid, Ashe.” She’s probably right and we brush it off or at least I pretend to act as if it’s nothing. We head to Darby.
“He may be strange…” Taylie keeps bringing him up as I try to get the events out of my head.“…but he’s still hot.”
“Taylie, you have a one-track mind. Don’t you ever think of anything else?”
“No, not really.” She’s coy and nonchalant. “Don’t you ever
Dirt
think about them? ”
“Yeah, I do… Definitely.”
“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend then?”<
br />
“Think, Taylie, if you had to bring a guy home to meet my
father, wouldn ’t you think twice?”
“I guess when you put it that way I can see what you mean.”
Taylie knows Dad. He doesn’t have the best social skills. Okay, he
doesn’t have any social skills. He could carry on a conversation
with a stranger, but it would be forced and uncomfortable for him
and for whomever he tried to talk to.
Wedon’t have any relatives. Oh, there is Mr. and Mrs. Birch.
Dad gets along pretty well with them. I’ve known them my whole
life. They’re the only other people I’ve ever met who knew my
mother. Dad’s obsession with his science, my health and my dead
mother make up his world. If I had a boyfriend, I know what it
would do to him. I don’t know what it would do to me and I’m not
about to find out.
“Well, at least he seems interested.” The blue-eyed stranger
that had my insides turned over has Taylie preoccupied. “I don’t know if he’s interested or just a creep.” I pull up to the
little farmhouse outside of town and drop Taylie off.“Dad’s gone
to get my car and tow it the shop. Can I hitch a ride with you for the
rest of the week?”
“Not a problem.” I want someone to ride with, especially now,
with all of this strange stuff going on.
“You may have to wait on me tomorrow. My last class is a
little later than yours,” she tells me.
“Okay, I have some studying to do. See ya tomorrow.” When I look down the highway, emptiness fills the road. So,
why do I sense someone watching me?
4
His eyes swallow me up with an emerald glow, like green fire. I make myself pay attention this time. Am I one of those typical stupid freshman girls that get a crush on their professor, making a total fool out of myself? The thought of it is nauseating. Okay, Ashe, get over it. Get a hold of yourself. What is your problem? This is so out of character for me. I’m sensible. My emotions have never gotten the best of me, until now. Practical. Pay attention. As soon as I lay eyes on him, it’s as if something takes control of me influencing me, manipulating my concentration.
As he demonstrates different strokes with oils, each movement of the brush is abnormally graceful. His voice is sure and smooth. Am I the only girl in class absorbed in him? His porcelain skin doesn’t look as perfect today and appears darker since the previous class, but beauty hides behind his eyes and seeps out from the faint wrinkles that weren’t there days earlier.
“ Hey, wake up sleepy head.” Jackson pokes me in the arm. Dear God, am I drooling? I’m embarrassed beyond belief. “Oh, I’m awake. Trying to make sure I don’t miss anything this
time. ” I try to cover up my obvious intoxication. I attempt to recover what dignity I have left. I wipe the drool from my lip with my sleeve. Ridiculous.
“ Sure,” Jackson responds raising his eyebrows as if I’ve got a giant “L” tattooed on my forehead. Professor Bran glances at me every once in a while with an unusual smile on his face, making me unsettled. I feel as though he’s trying to make me uncomfortable. Am I thinking that because I want to think that? I’m sure every girl in the room imagines the same thing. I’m getting on my own nerves.
“ Next assignment. I know many of you will think it childish,” he remarks glancing toward Jackson as if he knows what’s on his mind. “I want you to paint a picture of your family, 11x14, in oil. Due Friday.”
“ What? Are we in kindergarten? Doesn’t he know we need time for this stuff to dry?” Jackson mumbles, insulted by the assignment, again.
“ See ya Friday.” I walk to the opposite side of the room placing the painting of my home with the others. I wait for the blow as the Professor walks along the wall scoping the students’ work.
“Ms. Fair…”
He knows my name. I don ’t know how he knows me from the other thirty or so students in the class. He looks at my painting rubbing his chin while he ponders. He picks it up.
“ Hmmm. interesting. And this is from your soul?” he asks with a haunting silkiness.
“It’s the best I could do,” I answer knowing what he thinks of my inferiority.
“Shows promise,” he whispers. I thought he had to be kidding, but nonetheless, I’m thrilled. At least, today I will leave class on a good note.
Heading to the library to meet Taylie, I keep my eye out for the tall blond. Part of me wants to see him. Part of me is dying to see him, but reason and good sense tell me to avoid him. What would I do if we start seeing one another? The thought is unreasonable and out of the question. He could be a nut, a serial killer, a freak. I try to talk myself out of wanting to find out what might happen.
I claim a table toward the front of the library, so Taylie won’t have a hard time finding me. I pull out Romeo and Juliet and began to read my assignment trying to center my attention on the Montagues and Capulets, pretending to concentrate.
The sound echoes through the library as the chair across from me scrapes sharply against the floor making its mark into the laminate. Looking up, I see him, standing directly in front of me with his flawlessly sculpted hand on the back of the wooden chair. His shoulders are broad, fitting perfectly in his white t-shirt and faded jeans. Every ripple from every muscle shows defining the human body like I’ve never seen before. He leans his head forward showing ever more his perfect definition. His golden wavy hair is sharp and clean, with every strand exactly where it’s supposed to be. He sits down and opens a book that’s been under his arm. He lifts his gaze from the pages and walks into my eyes, drowning me in blue.
I shake my head lightly, trying to pull myself out of whatever trance I’m in. I feel drawn to him, but unsure. Still, he makes me wonderfully uncomfortable.It’s happening again. It’s as if the spirit of a carefree airhead has taken over my mind. Am I becoming boycrazy like Taylie? God, I hope not.
That probably didn’t come out right. I don’t think Taylie is an idiot, she’s my best friend. She sees things through a different pair of lenses. Probably something like sunglasses. Really thick, dark sunglasses. Designer of course.
I try to ignore him burying myself in Shakespeare attempting desperately to focus on the written word; anything to get my mind and my eyes off of him.
I can feel him looking at me, saying nothing. I peer up from the book.
“Hi,” he says with a slight smile. His lips curve up a little at the corners.
I’m mute. Can he tell I’m not breathing? My heart beats solid up against my rib cage on the verge of implosion. I know it has to be making the table vibrate.
It’s all I can do. I muster up one syllable. “Hi.”
“Anyone sitting here?” he asks knowing the answer.
“You are now,” I respond as if I know of anything else to say and being cool is definitely not my thing. What does he want with me? I keep my face down trying to avoid a conversation. I know if I speak it will reveal my awkwardness. I can sense his stare.
“I’m Rowen.”
“Ashe,” I answer without raising my head.“I’ve really got to study,” I say trying to avoid a conversation, not because I don’t want to talk to him, but because I don’t know how. Guys like him don’t talk to girls like me. It’s pretty simple. I’m simple. I blend in and I guess I do on purpose.
“So do I,” he responds unaffected by my suggestion that I’m not up for a chat. He slides his book across the table out of the way. He’s not here to study.
I try to focus on my text. His scent is warm and refreshing. When I inhale, the feeling of menthol rushes through my nose warming my lungs. I catch my breath again; my lungs are fuller than they’ve ever been with air that makes me feel like I’m breathing for the first time. He continues to stare, saying nothing. Does he know my palms are wet with sweat? Does he know my
heart is throwing itself against my chest?
Where’s Taylie? This situation is wonderfully awkward. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want him to leave. As I bring my senses back under control, I’m able to find some words somewhere in my throat.
“What are you studying?” I ask trying to break up my discomfort.
“Mythology.”
“Oh,” I say looking at the unopened book that is pushed to the edge of the desk. I pause for a moment that seems like days. I’m lost in the vapidity of insecurity; my loss for words makes me look brainless. There’s nowhere to hide, so I dig a little deeper and to my surprise more words come up passing through my lips.
“Why were you following me yesterday?” I don’t want to run him off, but I have to know.
“I wanted to make sure you made it safely to your car.”
“Why? You don’t even know me.”
“Hey, Ashe. Who’s this?” Taylie jumps in at precisely the wrong time, clearly more excited than she needs to be, smiling earto-ear. “Rowen, this is Taylie. Taylie, Rowen.”
“Isn’t this cozy.” She’s a little too giddy.
“Guess I’d better be going.” Rowen glides his book along the table and slides it back under his arm, elegantly floating across the room. The library doors brushes a breeze smoldering him like a blanket as he walks out.
“Okay, details.” Taylie insist.
“No details, Taylie. He just came over and introduced himself. No biggie.”
“Ashe, you need to loosen up.”
Inside, I hope to see him again, but I don’t want Taylie to know. She’d never let it go. Taylie chatters on as we make our way through the parking lot. What she says exactly, I have no idea.
I plop into the driver’s seat and I see him again, standing on the steps of the Fine Arts building. He watches me. No smile. No wave. Nothing. No acknowledgement that I’m looking at him. It’s all so strange. I crank the car and pull out onto the road. Through my rearview mirror, I can still see him standing there watching me as I drive away. I don’t let Taylie know he’s there. I don’t want to hear her overly excited assumptions. She continues muttering about something and she doesn’t even notice him. He seems to be everywhere I am. I’m not complaining, but I wish I knew where this is going.
