Pupil: Inspired By a True Story

by Zoey Long

  “You can’t… Derrick, I’m serious. What are you doing?”

  At last I see he’s grabbed a bottle of one of my washable paints, similar to the blue I used in my sibling lovers piece. He walks over to the foot of the bed, looks at me lying naked on the sheet. I raise an eyebrow.

  “C’mon, what do you think we needed the sheet for?” he asks, smiling.

  He won’t. He wouldn’t.

  Derrick shakes the bottle vigorously. The paint is well loved so it’s about half-gone. The sloshing noise of the paint inside the bottle reminds me of sex, but anything would remind me of sex right now. I narrow my eyes at him as he opens the spout at the top. He returns my glance. It feels like we’re kind of daring each other.

  “You won’t,” I say.

  Just then, a splurt of blue shoots to the middle of my stomach, warmer than I expected. I gasp, my mouth agape.

  “I cannot believe you did that!” I yell at him. The paint is starting to run down the sides of me, leaving marks on the sheet. It feels good. I get up on my knees and struggle to get the bottle from him, but he grips it tightly. Then he spurts it again, this time hitting me in the chest.

  “That’s it.”

  I jump up from the bed and run over to my easel, grabbing a bottle of white washable paint, red and yellow. I put the red and yellow down on the floor, shake the white and spurt it all over the front of his abs.

  “How do you like it?” I ask him, smirking.

  “Ha!”

  Derrick runs his hands over his stomach. He’s laughing.

  “So this is what it feels like. Huh.”

  “Jerk,” I say, poised like a cat, ready for his next move.

  He lunges toward me on the bed, pressing his white torso to my blue one, kissing me. We rub against one another, kissing. His hands, covered in white, streak my cheeks. We’re making a sky blue together, some of it on the sheet, some of it on each other. I push him off of me unexpectedly, stand up and reach down for the first bottle I can get my hands on. I shake it and squirt it on him, hitting the side of his torso with a splotch of yellow.

  “Oh, look. Sunshine.”

  He rubs the yellow over the blue of his torso. It makes a pretty moss color. Then he grabs for the red and squirts a huge glob of it on my tits while I’m standing up. I gasp, still surprised every time the warm, wet paint hits my body. It makes purple on my chest in spots, running in rivulets in others, down my breasts and onto my hips.

  Derrick sits up on the bed, gesturing me toward him. I walk over, straddle his lap, and he kisses me. His hands covered in green, he runs his palms over my back, covering me in streaks of color. I put my hands on his cheeks as we kiss. My hands are wet and smooth. I wrap my arms around his neck and rock my pelvis forward.

  He grabs a fistful of my ass with both hands, pulling me into him. I begin bouncing up and down, my tits jerking up and down, grazing his chest. We lie back. I grab his hands in mine, wiping color on color, mixing hues and turning muddy in spots. He flips me over, and I rub colors on the sheet. He watches me, propped up on an elbow.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says.

  “We’re going to need to take a shower presently. You know that, right?”

  “No. I thought we’d leave it like this for your roommate, go back to the apartment and tell our parents we’ve joined a hippie sex cult.”

  He winks.

  I kiss his lips.

  “That’s a great idea. But seriously, what are we going to do?” I ask him.

  Derrick has a splotch of blue across his nose. I decide to most definitely not tell him about it.

  “Tell me about this business venture you were talking to Frank about. What’s going on?”

  Derrick smiles. “Let’s shower and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Everything in the bathroom belongs to Marnie. She has pots of Manic Panic hair dye lined up along the edge of the sink, but I don’t think she’s used them. Last I saw, her hair was brown. The only thing in here I actually like is the Edward Gorey illustrated shower curtain. Emily died of Ennui. That’s cool.

  Derrick laughs at the curtain and pulls it open, squeaking the shower on. It bursts with a shot of cold water.

  “Stand back,” he says.

  Derrick puts two fingers into the stream, waiting for it to warm up to a suitable temperature. I take a glance in the mirror and almost yell out loud.

  “My God, look at me!”

  There’s sky blue all over my face, splotches of blue and red and purple in my hair. My torso is basically muddied grey.

  “Yeah, but it was fun.”

  I can’t disagree with him there. I haven’t thrown paint around with that level of abandon in a while. It was silly and sweet and sexy and I loved sharing it with him.

  Derrick steps into the shower, rinsing the blue off of his sculpted abs. He runs his hands over it in a circular motion. I like watching the water run down the length of his body, over his cock and his legs.

  “Are you getting in? We don’t want to make a mess in here too,” he says.

  I step into the shower and the water is just the right temperature. Derrick moves over so I can rinse out my long hair.

  “So, what’s your plan?” I ask him, tipping my head back into the warm stream.

  “I want to open my own MMA studio. I am opening up my own studio, that is. I have enough money to lease the place, but not to buy it outright. I was going to ask for Frank’s help, but—”

  “He’s holding it over your head?”

  “Yeah. He says that he’ll help me if I…” He pauses.

  Once the paint is off of me, I let him get into the water.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “He said he’ll release my trust if I stop seeing you.”

  That makes me laugh. The nerve of him, trying to control Derrick like that. He can’t be manipulated.

  “Well, it’s going to be a bit hard for us to stop seeing each other, Derrick. We live together.”

  He puts his hand between my legs and my body responds immediately.

  “Yeah, you know what I mean.”

  Derrick spreads me open with his fingers. Even though we’re in the shower, I am still wet from him fucking me. He kisses me hard on the mouth before pulling away, and I feel slightly dizzy.

  “Are you done?” I ask him.

  “Yes.” He turns off the water and opens the curtain.

  “Shit,” he says. “We have no towels.”

  Chapter 7: Derrick

  I help Madison clean up the dorm and it’s no easy task. I bundle the white sheet in on itself, blues and yellows and greens and reds mingling together. I look over at her easel, unused.

  “Baby?” I ask her.

  “Hm?”

  “Okay. The last time I said this, you got really mad at me. But, fuck it. I really think you need to start painting again. Seriously. Every single day.”

  “You have some nerve thinking I don’t paint,” she snaps.

  I walk over to Madison, back in her pants and shirt. Her hair is wet from the shower. I wipe a smudge of blue from under her eye.

  “I’m not attacking you. I think you should try to make a go of it. What are your plans when school ends? I think it’s time for us to start talking about the future. Our future. Together.”

  As I hear the words come out of my mouth I think about how just last year, I would have punched myself in the face for saying something so… domestic. I never talked about the future. Now I know that it’s because I had no idea what the fuck I wanted.

  Madison looks up at me, considering my words. She sits down on the bed and watches me crumple the sheet into a ball and put it on the floor for the moment. Then she begins:

  “I thought I’d look for an apartment somewhere in Brooklyn, on Craigslist, probably a sixth-floor walkup with four or five roommates. You know, be like all the other postgrads.”

  “And would you get a job?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah. Probably something retail like last summer, so I have time to paint, try to exhibit more.”

  I nod. This sounds like a solid plan.

  “That all sounds good. Except for one part.”

  I lift her face with my chin and look into her eyes.

  “You don’t need to have a million roommates in bumfuck Brooklyn. I think I have a better idea. And if you’ll have me…”

  “Derrick, what the…” She jumps back a little, shaking from my embrace.

  “No. I’m not proposing to you.” I laugh.

  She exhales a sigh of relief and smiles again. She’s laughing. Marriage is the last thing on my mind. No way. Not ready for that.

  “Believe me, baby, if I were proposing marriage to you, I wouldn’t do it with blue paint on my nose.”

  She smiles, even though I’ve long since wiped the spot from my face.

  “I do think, though, that we live together well. I like living with you. So what I suggest is that we get a place together. I’m sure it won’t be as swank as my dad’s place, but at least I can rail you out to my heart’s content without worrying about them breathing down our necks. Eh?”

  She starts to laugh, covering her face with her hands. She stands up and kisses me softly.

  “And you’ll open the studio? Where is it?”

  “Bay Ridge.”

  “This is the craziest idea I’ve ever heard,” she says finally. “Our parents are going to hate it. But it just might work.”

  Frank texts me as soon as we leave Madison’s dorm room. She heads to the library and I try to make sense of what the old man wants.

  Enough of this texting. I pick up the phone and call him, something I hardly ever do. It rings twice and his assistant answers. Kelly is a sweet liberal arts grad who wants to be a museum curator. I’m pretty sure she’s my age, engaged to some dick on Wall Street. I’m surprised she can even answer the phone without that huge rock getting in the way.

  “Hi, Derrick,” she says, chipper.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

  “Is he there?” I ask, impatient.

  “Let me try his extension. Hang on.”

  Elevator music starts playing. I don’t know why Frank even has this still. It’s so outdated.

  “Bourse,” he answers.

  “Dad, you know it’s me.”

  There’s silence on the end of the line.

  “So, what’s up?” I press him again.

  More silence. I can hear him breathing on the other end of the phone, and I imagine him sitting back in his gargantuan chair, futzing with something on his desk.

  “I was going to ask you to meet with me tonight, Derrick. But honestly, we already met face to face on this matter and you have made it quite clear that you have no intention of showing me any kind of respect.”

  I roll my eyes, but don’t interject.

  “So, I offer you a proposition. Business. Plain and simple. It’s what I’m good at, it’s what I know works. If you can’t appeal to a man’s morals, appeal to his pocket.”

  I’m starting to regret that I called.

  “I’ll release your trust. Give you more than enough money to buy that little building or whatever you want to do. I had it inspected. It’s solid. It needs some work, but it’s nothing we can’t fix.”

  I can’t believe he went behind my back and had the building looked at. What did he do, call Dave and get the address and the entire business plan? That’s probably exactly what he did, and Dave was probably all too eager to unload any and all kind of information onto Frank Bourse. I take a deep breath.

  “What’s your point, Frank?” I ask.

  More silence. Then he starts again.

  “My point is, I will do all of this for you. There’s more money in there than you need for this little venture. No strings attached.”

  I scoff.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “The only condition is that you stop fucking your sister. Even as the words come out of my mouth I’m disgusted. Is that really so much to ask? Just stop. Immediately. Nip it in the bud. Right now. And if I find out you’re continuing to see her, I’ll seize the property from you faster than you can take a breath.”

  The old Derrick would have jumped at this chance. Thrown off all ties to Madison, or just kept fucking her in secret and deal with the consequences later. I see now that this is a trap. A way for my father to manipulate my behavior, just like he’s always done. Everything is conditional with him. He wants to use his money to control me, as a way to influence my decisions. He’ll use that and whatever else he has at his disposal. I close my eyes and let the words fall from my mouth.

  “I understand you want me to stop seeing Madison. I even acknowledge that this might be slightly awkward for you, given your marriage to her mother.”

  I can hear him laughing on the other end, but I try to ignore it.

  “I’m not trying to sound smug.”

  “Good luck with that,” he says.

  “Please understand that I mean you no disrespect. Obviously you’ve provided me with a life that many others would envy and I’m grateful for that. But I’m not doing this with you anymore. I’ll figure out my own way to open the studio. And I’m not going to stop seeing her. There. Now it’s out in the open. No more lies. I don’t have to agree to this little scheme of yours and keep screwing her on the side, which, if you know me as well as you seem to think you do, is exactly what would happen.”

  My heart is thudding loudly in my chest. I can’t believe I said all of that out loud to him. I wipe my forehead and it’s clammy with sweat.

  “Son of a bitch,” he says.

  “You are my son after all.”

  With that, he hangs up the phone. I’m not sure what the fuck that means, but I suddenly feel exhilarated. I call Dave immediately and tell him we’re going to lease the place. We meet in a coffee shop around the corner to discuss details. I order an espresso and Dave has a coconut water. Why my favorite coffee shop has started to sell coconut water, I have no idea. He seems nervous.

  “So, we’re going to lease? N…not buy?” he asks sheepishly.

  “Dude. Do you want to go in on this with me or not?”

  I’m starting to wonder if I have any friends at all. Does Dave even know me or does he just keep me around for my money? What the fuck?

  “This is the way I can do it. My father offered me an ultimatum and I turned him down.”

  I take a sip of my espresso and it burns a bit.

  Dave’s ears perk up.

  “What kind of ultimatum?”

  I slam the small white cup down on its saucer and take a drink of water. Fuck it. No more lies.

  “Okay. I need to tell you something,” I offer.

  Dave is buzzing with excitement from his head to his feet. He’s about to jump out of his skin, he’s so excited that I’m going to confide in him.

  “My sister and I—”

  Dave slams his hand down on the distressed oak table.

  “I knew it! It’s true! Holy fucking shit, dude.”

  He sits back, a huge grin on his face. He quickly realizes I am not amused and sits up again nervously.

  “Oh, man. Derrick… you must know that everyone thinks you and Madison are…”

  He sips at his ridiculous juice box of coconut water.

  “A couple. The way you act around campus. You’re always together and then trying too hard not to seem like you… and then there was that whole fiasco with Noel Prejean.”

  I interrupt him.

  “Fine. Yes. We are.”

  “That’s totally cool with me. Just so you know. Not that you need my permission. Obviously. Ha. Man, she’s so hot. I’ve seen her in a few of my vinyasa classes. Amazing rack. Are her tits real? To be honest, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a sexier woman in my whole…oh, sorry, I don’t want to say that about your sister.”

  He look
s confused for a second, opens his mouth again, and I shoot him a look, raising my eyebrow.

  “Seriously?”

  He sips his coconut water and I quickly change the subject.

  “Shut your mouth about her immediately and never talk about her like that again and we’re cool.”

  He nods.

  “I was thinking Atlas. For the studio. As a name.”

  “Sounds solid. Wait, who is Atlas again? And how the hell do you know who Atlas is?”

  Dave slurps the last of his coconut water down.

  “Fuck, man. Do you have to drink that shit out of a straw? Just… chug it. Or put it in a glass or something. The sound is annoying as fuck.”

  “Old habit,” he says.

  “Atlas was a Titan who held up heaven—” I start to say, but Dave interrupts.

  “Oh, right. The guy who has the Earth on his shoulders,” he says.

  “No. That’s a common misconception. He’s holding the universe. Celestial orbs. Not the Earth.”

  Dave sits back and looks at me more strangely than he has the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Like, even stranger than when I told him I was in a relationship with my sister.

  “What… the fuck?” he asks.

  “Madison is really into mythology. She paints, obviously, but her most recent series was very heavily influenced by mythology. She even painted something that was influenced by siblings—I found that out later.”

  His look isn’t changing. In fact, I think it’s getting worse.

  “I think it’s interesting. So the fuck what? Anyway, Atlas held the heavens on his shoulders, and I was thinking, our studio could be named that because if you train hard enough, you’ll be strong enough to hold up heaven. Figuratively speaking. But it’s a cool image.”

  Dave laughs.

  “Man, she must be amazing in bed.”

  Chapter 8: Madison

  I’m throwing paint against the canvas feverishly. Colors are erupting out of me and I don’t think I’ve been this inspired in a while. I have the urge to run my fingers over the canvas and blend the colors, I can’t reach for the next shade of paint fast enough. My best friend Stephanie leans over:

  “Wow, Bourse must be amazing in bed.”