Becoming His Muse, Part Three

by KC Martin

  ***

  Leaving New York, everything feels different between us. In a good way. Deeper, stronger, more intense. Logan puts me on a train back to school, from there I will get myself to the airport to catch the flight my mom booked for me to Vermont. He’s decided to go directly from New York to Florida to visit his mother.

  Our last kiss is passionate, dizzying, and a little bit desperate.

  “I’ll see you in ten days,” I say pointlessly, since I’ve said it about ten times already.

  “It will be a new year,” says Logan. “Anything can happen in a new year.”

  I’m thinking along the lines of our lust story evolving into a proper love story with a happy ending. Plus graduation, the art show, Logan’s book publication and the slim but possible chance to fulfill my dream to be an exhibiting painter in New York. I can’t help thinking about a “new year in New York”.

  Logan hasn’t brought up the idea of me telling my parents about him again. Once I graduate I can do what I want, but for now, it’s one shock at a time for my parents. Maybe after they get used to the idea of me living in New York, I can bring up the idea of my sexy, professor, ‘older’ man boyfriend. Maybe next Thanksgiving…

  He walks me to my train’s platform. I find my assigned car. Outside the door, we kiss again.

  “I got you something for Christmas,” he says.

  I’m caught off guard. “A gift? But I didn’t think—”

  He puts a finger to my lips. “—I didn’t want you to think anything. I was inspired to get this.” He reaches into his jacket pocket.

  “But how… When?” We’ve been with each other pretty much 24/7 this trip.”

  “After I met with Lowell.”

  He withdraws a small turquoise box with a with satin ribbon.

  “Logan!” I don’t even take the box. I just stare at it, feeling my eyes twinkle with wonder.

  He offers the box again. I take it this time, tug at the ribbon, and lift the lid. Inside is a thin coil of silver, a bracelet, with a charm on it.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” I examine the charm. It’s a tiny silver paint palette.

  “You like it?” His eyes flit from my eyes to the charm and back again. He smiles when he sees how big I’m grinning.

  “Help me put it on?”

  I tuck the box in my purse and he drapes the bracelet over my wrist, turning it until he finds the clasp.

  “I know you probably won’t wear it while you’re painting, but when you’re away from the easel it can remind you of what you love more than anything in the world.”

  I feel a little sob lodge in my throat. He’s talking about my love of painting but it’s going to remind me of him. I don’t want to cry.

  “I wish I got you something.”

  He pulls me into a hug. “You’ve already given me more inspiration than I could have ever dreamed of. A trinket means nothing.”

  Does he mean this trinket on my wrist means nothing? Because it sure means something to me.

  He kisses me on each cheek. “It’s only ten days,” he says. “Not forever.”

  But when we reunite again at school we will have to go back to living our secret life. After the intimacy and freedom of this time in New York, I know that will be hard. We’ll still have Thursdays at DnC’s loft, and Logan is officially mentoring me now, but we won’t be able to reveal this growing, deepening passion between us. Everything will still be a secret.

  After being together almost non-stop this weekend, ten days suddenly apart will feel like torture, like ripping a band-aid off with one violent yank. With each subsequent day we will have to cover up our raw feelings and grow a protective layer so we can get through the remaining months until the school year ends. And then… It’s still unclear, but I feel hopeful.

  As I climb aboard the train and blow Logan a few last kisses, my new, tinkling trinket fills me with resilient, unbreakable hope.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thank goodness the holidays are over and I’m on my way back to school.

  My father did not take my announcement well. My mother just sighed, as if she’d been preparing for this disappointment all along. My cousin Tess was supportive, but I expected that of her. I even confided in her about my affair with Logan. She was deeply curious and concerned, but told me it was a good thing I hadn’t told my parents about that yet. If they couldn’t understand New York, they would never open up to that idea. At least it felt good to talk about it with someone.

  My father eventually retracted his threat to disown me and told me to go ahead and move away to New York, if that’s what I want, but I can consider myself “on my own”. He said he won’t foot the bill this time. I told him I didn’t care. The added tension between us certainly dampened the festive spirit normally found in my Grandfather’s chalet. I ended up spending a lot of time squirrelled away in his library, where I found a signed first edition of Truman Capote’s novel, Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

  One afternoon my grandfather found me curled up in one of the chairs by the fire.

  “Good book,” he said.

  I nodded in agreement and then I closed it so I could ask his advice about the battle with my father.

  He sighed and said, “Your grandmother, rest her soul, was always better with advice.”

  “But do you think it’s a mistake for me to move to go against my parents’ wishes?”

  He sat down in the chair across from me. “It doesn’t much matter what I think.”

  “But I want to know.”

  He pondered a moment or two. “Parents think they know what’s best for their children, and, you know, they do. The problem is that children turn into adults and life isn’t always about what’s best for anyone. I didn’t know that when I was your age or Johnny’s. See? Even now, I still call him by his boyhood name.” He shook his head. “You have to understand, Ava. Parents’ have their children’s best interests at heart.”

  Unless, they didn’t, I thought, remembering Logan’s experiences.

  “And that’s under pretty ideal conditions,” added my grandfather. “But even with the best of intentions no parent can see beyond their own successes and failures, or their own fears and dreams. Maybe if I had been a different kind of father to him, he’d have been a different kind of father to you.”

  “Would you do things differently if you had to do it again?”

  He shrugged. “We gain wisdom by making mistakes, sometimes at the expense of others. But if I had to do it over again knowing what I know now?” He scratches his chin. “I suppose I would learn to let go sooner.”

  He took the book from my hand, turned it over, handed it back to me. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He lowered his voice just a bit. “Parents who love their children will always love their children, regardless of their choices. Johnny’s a bear when it comes to getting what he wants, but it isn’t in his heart to disown you, Ava. Don’t let his fears become your fears.”

  “But you wouldn’t let him be the football player he wanted to be.”

  “Ah, yes. He likes to blame that on me, doesn’t he? Truth is, he went for one semester to that college, struggled to live up to his high school reputation but found himself in a different league all together. It was too hard. He saw the writing on the wall for himself.”

  I had to let that sink in for a minute. “So he’s just scared for me then? He’s afraid I’ll fail?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I only know that parents will do anything they can to protect their children from suffering. They will even pretend to themselves that such protection is possible, which it isn’t. There is some amount of suffering in every person’s life, but such thoughts are almost unbearable when a parent thinks of his own child.”

  I knew that wasn’t true of all parents, even if it was true of mine.

  “That story takes place in New York,” said my grandfather, pointing to the novel in my hands. “Why don’t you keep it.”

  “But it’s a signed first e
dition!”

  He got up from his chair. “If things get rough in the city, you can always hock it for a month or two of rent.”

  Thinking of that conversation, in a taxi leaving the airport and heading back to school, I smile at his generous ‘advice’. I would never hock so precious a gift, but I have been thinking I might regift it. It would be the perfect Christmas present for Logan.

  I tell myself I don’t care if the family money runs out once I graduate. I’ll wait tables and clean hotel rooms if I have to. I won’t give up on my dream. If I fail, I fail. But at least I’m going to try. Maybe Ronnie and I can share a squalid studio somewhere in Alphabet City until we make names for ourselves.

  Or — and I try not to let myself fantasize too much — maybe Logan will want me to be more than his muse… Maybe, once school is over, we’ll return to New York together…

  ***

  After getting back to my dorm and unpacking, I head out to meet up with my friends at Mick’s. I slip on my gloves and a hat. There’s about a foot of snow covering all the campus greens but all the walkways have been cleared. It doesn’t compare to the snowdrifts of Vermont, but as I make my way across campus along salt-sprinkled pathways, I’m reminded of that snowy first night in Manhattan. Missing Logan, I sigh longingly and release a feathery plume of steam into the dark night. Logan won’t be back for another day or two. Wednesday night, I think. I can hardly wait until we can meet up at DnC’s loft. That’s when I’ll give him the book. Along with a few other ‘gifts’. My heart warms, as do other body parts, as I let my imagination run wild.

  A bunch of us arrive at Mick’s at the same time. Together, Jenny, Jonathan, Ruby, Ronnie, Owen and I squish in around the big table with the round booth. We order two pitchers of beer.

  “Only a few more months to go,” says Ronnie in disbelief. “I’ll never get my sculptures finished.”

  “Don’t say that,”I admonish him. “You’ve got a real chance at that award. Don’t give up now.”

  “You can do it,” says Owen, giving Ronnie a smile and a knee squeeze.

  Jonathan leans back against the booth. “At least you’ll all be finished. I still have years of schooling left.”

  “Have you applied to other colleges?” says Jenny, who’s sitting on one side of him.

  Jonathan gives Ruby, who’s sitting on his other side, a glance before answering. I think he’s still waiting for her to give some indication where she’ll be moving after graduation. Poor lovestruck fool.

  “Yeah, a bunch of places,” he says, sipping his beer to put an end to that part of the conversation.

  “I hope you’ll come out to at least one of the theatre departments productions,” says Jenny. “I’m in three different plays. I’m having a hell of a time keeping all my lines straight.

  “What are you doing after graduation, Ruby?” says Owen.

  She sighs. “Attempting to write the great American novel, I guess.”

  Jonathan leans forward. “Yeah, but where?”

  She shrugs. “It hardly matters. Maybe at a lonely lighthouse in Maine, or some run down cabin in the Kentucky hill country, or maybe New York.” She winks at me as she tips her beer bottle. “At any rate, somewhere colorful to inspire my imagination.”

  “Excuse me,” says Jonathan, shoving past Jenny and ending up on her lap.

  “Ooh, big boy, what’s your hurry?” She squeezes him playfully. Ruby frowns at them.

  “Nature calls,” he says, as he manages to get beyond Jenny’s groping fingers. On his way across the bar, I see him stop and talk to Laura over by the kitchen. He actually makes her smile.

  I wish Ruby would give him another chance. She’s totally over Dale, and I know she’s been missing Jonathan, but she still can’t seem to give him the time of day. On the way back to the dorms after drinks, I try to talk to her about it.

  “I just don’t know,” she says. “It’s like now that I realize how much I like him —maybe love him — I’m frozen in some way and just keep acting like a bitch toward him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m scared? It won’t be long before we’re all out of here and trying to fend for ourselves in the real world. I am scared, Ava.”

  “We all are. Because it’s a big change. It’s unknown. We’re leaving behind what’s comfortable and we don’t know how we’ll do out there in the big, bad world.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s been ‘comfortable’ exactly, but it has become familiar. I suppose it wasn’t when we first got here.” She laughs. “Remember how lost we all felt?”

  “I felt so lost all I did was sketch and mope.”

  “Until I found you.” She smiles and slides her arm through mine.

  “And then you found Jonathan.”

  Ruby sighs and smiles. “Yeah, we all found each other, and we discovered new parts of ourselves. It’s not been an entire waste of time.”

  I laugh. “Could you tell my father that?”

  “Oh, Ava, he’ll come around eventually. Once he attends your first New York art opening, sees how popular your paintings are, and how much you love living the artist’s life, he’ll just be happy you’re happy. Especially when he sees that beautiful grandchild you and Logan are going to produce.”

  “Ruby!” I playfully try to shove her away but she hangs on tight to my arm.

  “Oh, no,” she says with mock alarm. “You didn’t tell your parents about him yet?”

  “Of course not! No one’s allowed to know. Zip up your lips and throw away the key!”

  She grins gleefully. “After graduation, it won’t matter anymore. It won’t have to be a secret.” In a lilting sing-song voice she adds, “Only three more months…”

  What a relief that will be. If we can just keep up pretenses for a little while longer, in a few months we’ll be free to make our own choices.

  Ever since New York, I’ve felt the real possibility that things might work out between us, that we could have a real relationship and not just a secret affair. I’m not fooling myself into thinking it would be a cake walk living with him. His writerly mood swings can be difficult to take, but it’s obvious to both of us that we fuel each other’s creativity. I may be his muse, but he’s my inspiration.

  All along this affair has been inspiring me in ways I never expected. I’ve felt things I’ve never felt before, and I’ve painted images I didn’t know were in me. I tell myself that should be enough. But I feel this urge, with all this passion and emotion, to reach for something more, as if there is some undeniable human need to keep growing and changing, to strive for love.

  Ruby may have a sweet view of my future, but she’s no fairy godmother. Wand waving and wish granting won’t make my dreams come true. But patience, persistence, and passion might just be enough. If it’s not, if it all ends in disaster, I might have no choice but to end up crawling back to my family. I feel a sick twist in my gut when I think of that so I stop worrying along those lines. I have to cross one bridge at a time.

  And regardless of what I sense Logan and I could be, we can only move forward from where we are right now. I’ll need to be patient. Maybe when we’re alone together on Thursday at DnC’s loft, I’ll hint at something. Or maybe we’ll just ravage each other senseless instead. I tell myself I’ll know when the time is right.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, on my way to Dr. T’s lecture, I see Madeleine exiting the auditorium on crutches.

  “What happened?”

  She looks down at her ankle in a cast and then looks back up at me with a huge grin on her face.

  “A friend took me snowboarding over the holidays. I had the best time ever.”

  Her book bag slips off her shoulder and catches on the crutch. For a moment it looks like she’s lost her balance, and the she regains it.

  I grab the bag. “Let me take that. You shouldn’t be carrying so much.”

  “Thanks, Ava. I’m still not used to getting around like this.”

  “I’ll tell Dr. T I’m
going to walk you back to your office.” She starts to protest but I cut her off. “Some of the paths are slippery. I insist. Wait for me here.”

  I walk to the front of the auditorium to tell Dr. T I’ll be late. On my way back up the aisle I see Casey sashaying down wearing a floor length skirt and an army jacket.

  She stops me in the aisle.

  “I’ll need that key back,” she says.

  “What? Why?”

  “We’re getting busier with our artwork.”

  I think of the puppets hanging from their rafters. I find hard to think of that as art.

  “But you said I could have Thursdays.” I realize I’m whining.

  “We never said for how long. You’ll have to use the campus studios again.”

  “The schedule’s getting so jammed,” I mumble, digging around for the tasseled key ring. “It’s hard to get private time there.”

  “If you’re really desperate you can come over and paint for a few hours with us. You’ve already seen some of the project.”

  “It’s okay.” There’s no point if they’re going to be there. Using their space was always more about making love, not art.

  As I hand over the key, Casey narrows her eyes. “You have kept it a secret, haven’t you?”

  “Of course. Haven’t told a soul.” I suppose Logan knows. But she’s being unnecessarily paranoid. Her secret’s nothing compared to the one I’ve been carrying all year.

  “Where’s Derrick?” I say, looking around. It’s so rare to see one without the other.

  “Outside,” says Casey, dropping down into an aisle seat and pulling out her notebook.

  I remember that Madeleine is waiting for me so I head up the aisle. Near the back of the auditorium I see Ronnie taking a seat.

  “No napping this class,” I say to him. “I’ll need to borrow your notes.”

  “Sure,” he says, smiling. He sits up straighter and takes out a notepad.

  Outside, I see Derrick talking to Madeleine. Not talking exactly. She’s trying to twirl on her crutches and Derrick is filming her with a small camera. She’s laughing from her efforts, but I’m worried she might go ass over tea kettle on the icy bricks. I’m about to say something when he stops.