Jolt

by Roberta M. Roy

  “How are things going, Silvia?” asked the young man, reaching for a painting in shades of orange. Its subject matter was a round vase of Queen Ann’s Lace. The umbrella-like blooms fanned out over and around the vase’s burnished orb while light streamed down from the right. It lit the vase where it hit and caused the flowers’ lacy shadows to almost fill the areas behind the bouquet. The effect of the vase was of solidity while that of the flowers and shadows was more airy. Thaw liked it.

  Silvia was already involved in setting up her paints. She did not look up. “Not bad,” she said.

  The young man set up his work at a bit of a distance from Silvia. He arranged his materials and began immediately. Thaw noted that though the male student remained standing as he painted, he, too, kept his back to the windows. From his desk in the back corner of the room Thaw found his view of the class’ work was privileged. Although the students chose to angle themselves slightly away from him, their works caught the natural light from the windows and remained in easy view. Raising the shades had been the right thing to do. Thaw felt a smile play across his lips.

  Gradually the class filled. The students talked quietly among themselves. Some straggled in after nine. There were no bells. Their quiet, late entry did not distract the others. As each arrived, he or she settled in quickly. Thaw decided to ignore their tardiness as by 9:10 his head count suggested all were present.

  Thaw rose and wandered around the room. In general the students either smiled at him briefly and returned to their work or totally ignored him. He suggested to one student that there was a need for more white in the painting to increase the contrast and to another an increase in the use of a color nearer black. He commented to one that he found his rough style refreshing and suggested it might be worth keeping in the student’s repertoire of styles. He asked one female if it had been her intent to make half the painting more realistic than the other half. Blushing, she denied that intent, so Thaw suggested she lessen the realism of the one half; given the painting was to be done this week, it would probably go more quickly than increasing the realism of the other.

  “Then you’ll think I’m just taking the easy way out,” the student commented.

  Thaw smiled. “But art is finding the easy way out. Indeterminate choices mess up the process so you have to make them work for you. As for an easy way, if you can find one, just give a whoop and go for it!”

  Again the student blushed. Two students in easy earshot gave one another a look and a slight shrug. Sounded good to them.

  By 10:15 Thaw had made the rounds of the room so he introduced himself and announced a break. “My name is Theodore Wamp. You can call me Mr. Wamp. But my nickname is Thaw, short for Theodore Horatio Alexander Wamp.” He wrote his full name on the board, took it in visually and turned again to face the students. “I think my mom had indigestion the night she named me.” A few appreciative smiles flitted around the room. “You can call me Thaw. Mr. Wamp…or Thaw…It’s up to you.” He paused and looked around. “But belittle my name and you flunk the course. See you in fifteen minutes.” Thaw gave the class one of his easy smiles. Some of the students smiled back.

  After the break, Thaw took attendance and confirmed his impression that there were no absences. He found that somehow reassuring. Thaw cleared his throat. The students looked toward him expectantly. “Are you sure you need me here?” Thaw paused and then proceeded. “I have to say it’s been a pleasure to be greeted in my first class on campus by such a mature, talented and hardworking group of students.” He smiled around the room but many of the heads on hearing this blatant compliment swiveled back to the work before them where they mostly stayed for the remainder of the class.

  The rest of the day went along with the same degree of relative ease. The students did see him as an older person and without ado seemed to accept him as their instructor. The two professors from the classes nearby invited him to lunch with them. They picked up sandwiches in the cafeteria and gathered to talk in a small room off Mary Elaine’s class. Thaw found it pleasant to enjoy a lunch with other artists-teachers. Mostly they discussed the skills and styles of the students they shared.

  Toward the end of the day Dr. Owens dropped by to see how things were going and Thaw told him he thought they were going well. “See you tomorrow,” volunteered Milfy. Thaw still felt compelled to think of Dr. Owens as Milfy, although at times he now thought of him as Dr. Later he’d mature into generally thinking of the chairman as Dr. Owens or perhaps Owensey. Owensey. He smiled at his own immaturity.

  “Stop by my office later, Thaw, and Katy will give you some keys and assign you a mailbox. And there’s a departmental faculty meeting tomorrow afternoon at four. I rotate its meeting place among the various classrooms where art is taught. Tomorrow it’s in Mary Elaine’s, so you won’t have far too walk. Hope to see you there. It will give you a chance to meet the rest of the department. I’ll ask one of them to volunteer to orient you as to when and where faculty meetings are and to explain the faculty committee system used here. And Thursday after your last class I’d like you to drop over around two so we can make sure you’ve signed all the necessary papers associated with your employment. I can give you a faculty handbook at that time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “By the way…” Dr. Owens paused meaningfully. “A few of the students from your classes stopped by to see Katy today. They had very positive comments about your approach to teaching.”

  “Really? Well, that’s certainly nice to hear. Thanks, again.”

  “And thank you. I think it took some courage taking this on as you have. And we never would have asked you if we hadn’t found ourselves in such a pickle. Generally we prefer people with experience and more formal training. But we seemed to have had little choice. But I think you will be fine. See you tomorrow at four.” And Dr. Owens was off and down the hall. He certainly was not one who wasted time playing nursemaid or social chair. But Chairman of the Department he was, and Thaw was appreciative of his clean and direct style.

  2. Making It

  Thaw found the academic life very much to his liking. He enjoyed the mix of relaxed camaraderie, seriousness of intent, and mild grayness in the lines between students and teachers in the classroom setting. Once out of class, except for Friday afternoons—at a place that might best be termed a beer joint which filled with a mix of students and faculty—faculty and students did not mix socially. Thaw knew some of the more experienced faculty held occasional student seminars in their homes, but he was anything but experienced, so living as he did an hour and a half from the campus should not immediately present any problem.

  February of 2020 was drawing to a close when Dr. Owens asked Thaw if he would like to exhibit some of his works in the departmental gallery, a large room that spilled out into the adjacent hall. Thaw said he’d be delighted to hang some, as he knew that in preparation for the anticipated show of his paintings at LaPetite Gallery Rory had a dozen or more already framed. Dr. Owens said he’d give Thaw the hall as another faculty member was showing in the inner studio. He suggested Thaw ask a few of his students to help him hang his works as well as with the preparation of the tagging of the pictures and the sign lettering for the easel that was to stand near the inner entrance to the gallery.

  Thaw did as Dr. Owens suggested. He used the students in the survey course to prepare the exhibition and asked for volunteers from the advanced oil painting class to coordinate the effort. Silvia, the best student into his class, and Bernard, the student with the rough brush stroke style that Thaw had complimented on his first day in class, offered to do the lettering and signage. The department provided the goodies for the exhibition’s opening. It was his first formal show. He smiled to think that it and his employment at Nick-Sue could be included in the background in the media releases to be sent out before his next exhibit with Rory.

  On the night of the Nick-Sue show’s opening, a slow moving crowd milled about the hall. They gathered in small clumps near certain painti
ngs or chatted as they helped themselves to punch and cheese and crackers. A few of the art faculty discussed with some vigor Thaw’s technique in dark-light, delicate-rough style contrasts. Their comments were generally positive.

  Young female students drifted in to chat starry-eyed with him, the artist, only barely cognizant of the lovely and smiling Natalie who accompanied him for the evening. Thaw, however, took little note of their demeanor. He answered their questions and discussed his work, oblivious to the batting of eyelashes and subtle to not so subtle rearrangements of shoulders and hip angles.

  But it was a young woman named Sylvia who in particular caught Natalie’s attention. She wore high heels and an understated black dress that clung in all just the right places; she did not flirt.

  “Sylvia seems quite sweet,” observed Natalie.

  “Very sweet,” responded Thaw, apparently missing any intended irony on Natalie’s part, “…and helpful.”

  “Oh?” asked Natalie.

  “She’s in charge of refreshments.” He smiled and waved to an incoming faculty member. “Quite talented. Great sense of color and balance.”

  Natalie’s interest was piqued. “Oh, she works for the department?”

  Thaw eyed Natalie uncomprehendingly. “No. Dr. Owens suggested I ask the students to help me set up the show. When I did, she volunteered…along with Bernard.”

  “Oh, I see. He helped with the heavy work and she’s doing the refreshments?”

  Thaw took another look at Natalie. “No. They worked together. She decided where the pictures were to be hung. Bernard hung them, but she suggested where they were to go.” A male faculty member and his wife stopped to shake Thaw’s hand and congratulate him and continued on their way. “Of course, I had the final approval.” He nodded and smiled to a passing colleague.

  “I never could have done it without student help…Sylvia’s especially. But, Natalie,” he took a sip of his punch, looking at her over the rim of the glass, “what do you think of the show?”

  Now Natalie found herself in a situation where she was not only discussing Sylvia’s work, but was forced to speak well of her. “Absolutely lovely. They’ve done a wonderful job. And Sylvia definitely does have an eye for color and balance. Even the weaving of the subject matter by theme is well done.” Might as well talk as if she knew what she was talking about. “And she had only Bernard to help?”

  “I think several of the male students worked with Bernard to do the actual placement and hanging--but under Sylvia’s direction.”

  “Well, they’ve done well. I doubt anyone might have done better. And your work looks simply wonderful.”

  Natalie glanced the length of the hall. Sylvia seemed very involved in matters related to the cheese, crackers, desserts, and punch. She mingled with the guests but checked in regularly at the refreshment table. And wherever she went, a tall, affable-looking young man (who Natalie guessed was Bernard) tagged along. Still, with all her responsibilities that caused her to make many sallies about the area, Sylvia did seem to manage a goodly number of comments and limpid looks with Thaw. Also, several times, with all the proper apologies to Natalie of course, she even managed to pull Thaw away with her on business--something about there first being not enough ice and then something missing from the punch.

  And Natalie was a bit surprised to find herself mildly annoyed by this faded little blond creature with the wide blue eyes whom Thaw seemed to respect so. Drat, thought Natalie. And then again, what difference did it make to her? And here again was Thaw, munching on a small triangle of a sandwich as he came and then proffering her some punch. “Here, Nat. I brought you something to drink.”

  And so, except for the niggling feeling Sylvia had caused, from Natalie’s point of view, the show at Nick-Sue went exceedingly well. Nick-Sue. As for Thaw, he, too, thought it had gone well. But life had early on taught him that one can never be sure. So in talking to Natalie, he told her he was happy she liked it and kept his own counsel.

  Natalie had not spent any time with Thaw since before the holidays so it surprised her to find that despite her conflicted feelings and desire to distance herself from him that she really enjoyed the evening. Standing beside him, she chatted with artists, star-struck students, professors and professors’ wives. This was new for her. But immersed in the artistic milieu, she found herself at ease discussing artists’ styles and lives, their approaches to art and the effect of their color choices. And it even gave her a kick to now and then draw some small comparison between Thaw’s work and one pioneering impressionist or another. It struck her that her conversations with Thaw about art and artists had enriched her life in a way she had not considered until then. Still, she insisted on driving to the opening and back home independently.

  But that was then and today Thaw had to pick up the last batch of paintings from Nick-Sue to be hung at Rory’s Petite Gallerie, so he called Natalie and to his delight she agreed to lunch with him at a small, intimate restaurant within walking distance of where she worked.

  Explaining that she was not sure exactly when she might be free, she said she’d rather walk than have him pick her up and so arrived at the restaurant at the agreed upon hour looking every bit the part of a successful business executive. She was dressed modestly in a long knit beige dress draped with a brightly colored scarf that complemented the color of her hair and eyes. Natalie was convinced that being a fashion plate was a major part of being a successful career woman and Thaw tended to agree with her as her appearance could be a head-turner. However, today Thaw was more struck by the almost electric intensity her presence brought. Thaw sensed it came more from her clarity and strength of focus than from her fashion plate appearance.

  This was a side of Natalie that Thaw had not seen much of in Locklee. He found it interesting and stimulating and so different from the Natalie he had known over the years when they had spent most of their time at his place and in intimate settings. So Thaw drew her out as Natalie excitedly shared her involvement in a legislative fight to preserve some wetlands. And he found it fun to listen while intermittently visualizing a more relaxed Natalie, hair spread about her on the bed enjoying a moment with him in his cabin. Meantime his passion for the outdoors and wildlife served him well as he commented in support of the wetlands preservation as a bird sanctuary. By the time Natalie completed her explanation, she simply glowed with excitement.

  After Natalie and Thaw had settled well into sharing lunch, Thaw mentioned his upcoming show at Rory’s gallery. It would be on an early spring evening in March. Natalie’s demeanor softened. She became the delighted, interested, and supportive companion he had known best over the years. And to Thaw’s delight she accepted his invitation to attend with him, adding that if it were not a problem, she would like to bring her sister with her, whom he knew from times when he had been to visit Natalie’s family here in Bain on holidays. He had found the younger woman to be more subdued than Natalie, but she was very likeable, as was her charming preteen daughter. And it pleased him that Natalie should have suggested bringing any of her family again into direct contact with him.

  The lunch over, they walked the short distance to the door of the building that housed the Planning Department. Thaw opened the outer door to permit Natalie to enter. He followed her to the first step, just before the inner door. There Natalie stopped abruptly, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and suggested he call her over the weekend to arrange the details of their getting together for the show. He wished her the best in her struggles with the legislature and left only after she turned and entered the building. His heart sang that she had agreed to come to the opening at the gallery. Perhaps the ice was beginning to melt.

  Thaw looked forward with anticipation to early March when Natalie and her sister would join him at La Petite Gallery. However, as it turned out, the night of the gallery opening Natalie’s niece had some kind of flu and her mom had to stay at home so only Natalie’s pretty and affable presence lit the room near Thaw. But she was more than
enough and served as a positive force, probably helping to ensure that Thaw’s works were well-received.

  After the show they took a turn around the darkened streets, chatting and looking in the dimly lit windows. Eventually they returned to the cars and as they approached Natalie’s, she told him how much she had enjoyed the evening, kissed him goodnight at the curb and, to his disappointment, left without accepting his invitation for a nightcap.

  But the hour plus long ride to Locklee went quickly. Thaw had too much to celebrate to let his feelings for Natalie interfere. Just as his part in the show at Nick-Sue had established him as a reputable artist among the students and faculty on campus, this one seemed to have established him as one for Rory’s regulars, many of whom were buyers.

  Proof positive of this last fact came in the form of a surgeon from a local hospital. At tonight’s gallery opening the doctor had expressed an interest in buying one of the paintings for the waiting room in the breast center. Thaw sold it to him for two thousand dollars—to be hung there as a gift to the hospital in memory of the doctor’s late wife. The whole exchange left Thaw amazed and incredulous—amazed that he could so easily state to the man that the painting’s price was two thousand dollars, incredulous that the price had been accepted without so much as a blink.

  Thaw offered a secret thanks to the framer, Rory, who had been the one to suggest that the paintings had such value. And Rory had been right.

  Jeesum Crow! Thank you!

  Even God had gotten into the event.

  And then about a half hour later, while he and Natalie were both still aglow over the sale, who should make an unexpected appearance but the governor’s trophy wife, Anielda Carval Martin.

  Only by dint of luck and courage had the governor been able to snag this will-o’the-wisp lovely lady, despite her inherited millions. His was definitely a rags-to-riches story. One of those Harvard graduate success stories of a kid from a rough neighborhood in Aesopolis who gave his love to a pretty girl he met on a beach in Greece. The girl responded in kind. The family only wanted her happy. And so they were married and oddly enough formed a very stable and vital marriage that produced two lovely daughters, both of whom were the image of Anielda.