Sublime Karma

by Peyton Garver

  “I’m obsessive like that, but then I neglect other things, like my History term paper that’s due Monday. Anyway, you’re crazy if you don’t think your work is incredible. It is. It’s really good, your lines, your shading, dimension, proportion, and tone. Let’s see what you have here.” She splayed Brie’s sketches across the table.

  Mia pulled an unfinished sketch closer to get a better look. “Where is this? It looks so serene.”

  Brie shrugged and studied the preliminary outline of a lakehouse. “Nowhere really. It’s just someplace I dream about sometimes.” Brie looked away from the sketch to Mia who had already moved on to the other pieces on the table.

  “Brie, look here. I see a theme. Why don’t you include these sketches? Your Alone sketch and Shattered Mirror.” Mia turned to the second sketch. “Is that a self-portrait? How did you do that? So the shattered mirror showed that fragmented reflection? It’s so intense, and you really captured emotion in this Alone sketch.”

  “Intense? Emotional?” A bitter laugh escaped Brie. “No. I won’t put those out there. It makes me look . . . disturbed.” Sarah would have a field day.

  Mia nodded. “What about this pastel of the dog? It’s a husky, isn’t it?”

  “No!” Brie said, too suddenly. “No, not that either. Roxy was my dog. I just lost her. So far, only the deer blind.” She laid the large ink sketch on the table and then pulled out some of her other pieces. She reached for the deer blind sketch and laughed. “I met Jake in there.”

  Mia looked from the sketch to Brie. “Really?” A grin spread across her face. “That is so cute. You met Jake in a treehouse.”

  “Deer blind. Mm-hmm.” She nodded. “It’s behind my house, and his. I was just hanging out in there reading and, Voila! He showed up.”

  “Wait a minute? He lives near you?”

  “Uh-huh.” Brie bit back her grin. “Well, you can’t actually see his house from mine. It’s separated by the woods.”

  “Wow, talk about fate.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, I was hoping I’d have enough time to spruce it up with some watercolors.” She looked back at the pastel of Roxy. Her sanguine mood slipped, and the numbness seeped in.

  “Brie?”

  Brie felt Mia patting her hand. She drew in a sudden breath, breaking the spell. “I’m sorry. What? What did you say?”

  “I said, I can help you matte or frame, if you’d like. What about this piece?” Mia pulled out a sketch of two children, a boy and a girl, leaning over a birthday cake, ready to blow out the candles. “This is beautiful. These kids, they’re adorable.”

  “Oh, I forgot about that one,” Brie said, picking it up. “I drew it last week, from a photo that was taken at my sixth birthday. That’s me and my brother. My father died not long after that,” she said, staring through the sketch.

  Mia sat pensive, looking at the pieces. “I’m sorry . . .” The silence between them grew heavy. “I didn’t realize there was so much meaning behind your work.”

  Brie laid the birthday sketch next to the sketch of the deer blind and looked back at the pastel of Roxy. “On second thought . . .” She moved the piece toward the other two. “There, that’s three.”

  “Brie, these aren’t random, there is a focus. But, it’s a personal focus. I get it if you don’t want to share them all, but Mr. McCullough should know the significance of them.”

  “No.” Brie glanced at Lorianne. With her earbuds in, she wet her fingers and pulled the clay up from the wheel with deft fingers. Then, Brie glanced toward the kiln room where Ari had gone. She looked back at Mia and leaned closer. “Only you and Jake know. I want to keep it that way. If my work appears random, too bad. If I can finish two more, I’ll still have my five pieces completed by Friday. I can finish the lake scene and one more. That should get me a passing grade, right?” Brie tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Mia nodded. She pressed her thumb in the violet oil paint on her palette and put her thumbprint on a corner of paper that she handed to Brie.

  “Thanks,” Brie said, accepting the paper. She looked at the pieces she had completed and the deer blind sketch that she was sure she could finish. “Okay, all but Alone and Shattered Mirror, those are too neurotic.”

  “Which one are you going to donate for the silent auction?”

  “Silent auction? There’s an auction?”

  “Oh! You didn’t know? The art show is a fundraiser. Every student in the class donates at least one of their showpieces to the silent auction. It gets marked with a number on the panel. Then, people can go to the bidding area and write bids on the numbered sheets. That’s how the Art department makes money to get supplies for this class. Businesses in the community are invited to the show. Restaurants, hotels, the library, boutiques, private businesses, lots of them come and bid on the art.”

  “I’m not donating any of these,” Brie said, looking at her work. “I want to keep them.” Suddenly inspired, she grinned. “I’ve got an idea, but I can’t start it yet. I want to do one of Jake playing football. Maybe I can take a picture of him at practice today. I just wish I could do it without anyone noticing.”

  “No! No, I’ve got it!” Mia exclaimed. “I take pictures for the yearbook, and I’ve already got a couple of really good ones from the games.”

  “No way!”

  Mia smiled. “Way!”

  Excited about the possibilities, Brie patted the art table between them. “Can you bring them to my place tonight? Or, give me copies?”

  “Brie, I’m sorry,” Ari said from behind the two girls. “I had no business putting you on the spot like that. I don’t know what happened between you and Jake, but he doesn’t seem to be mad about it. And, I shouldn’t have butted into his or your business. Can we just start over?”

  Although her apology sounded rehearsed, Brie nodded. She glanced toward Greg’s table. He was already busy sorting his work. “Yeah, I’d like that. I mean, I’d like to start over.”

  Ari lowered her eyes, and gave Brie a tight smile. “Okay, then.”

  Finally, sixth period. Brie spotted Jake’s empty seat. Before she could scan the room for him, an arm curled around her waist. “I missed you,” Jake said, pulling her close. He took her books without letting go of her.

  Smiling, Brie turned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Well, well, well, what hast we hither? It’s wond’rful that thoust changed eyes Beatrice and Benedick, but thou wilt keepeth thy hands off of each oth’r in this cubiculo,” Mr. Rosenberg declared from across the room.

  “Huh?” Blushing, Brie let her hands slip off Jake.

  Jake leaned down to Brie murmuring, “I cannot waiteth to get you out of this cubiculo.”

  “What’s a cubiculo?” Marcus asked, sauntering past Jake and Brie to his seat.

  Mr. Rosenberg clapped excitedly. “Okay class, let’s get started.” Placing a vintage poster in the front of the room, he began his preview of the next play, Othello.

  “Whoa! Wait! Back up!” Marcus stood up from his seat, his eyes glued on the poster. “Othello’s black? Black like me? I mean we’re talkin’ the 1600s, right? And, that Shakespeare dude has a black as the main character? The star of the show? That’s like Will Smith in the movies. Am I right? Tell me I’m right!” Marcus suddenly raised his hand, as if to be called on, but continued talking. “I’ll take that Othello part, Mr. R. Tell me that Desdemona is some hot chick.”

  “Yes, Mr. Graham, please have a seat. Othello is a Moor, and the beautiful Desdemona is his wife.”

  “He’s more of what?”

  Brie leaned towards Marcus “A Moor, you know, like Moroccan. He’s from a place in northern Africa, or maybe the Iberian Peninsula. Marcus, you know this is a tragedy right?”

  “What? Why, because a black is the star of the show it’s a dow
ner?”

  Brie rolled her eyes. “No, Marcus. It’s a downer because Othello is tricked into believing Desdemona was unfaithful, so he kills her.”

  Marcus glanced at Jake, who shrugged back, looking bewildered. Apparently, he had no clue what she was talking about, either.

  Brie rolled her eyes at the two of them. “After he kills her, he kills himself when he finds out he was tricked. You know. Like a murder-suicide?”

  Marcus focused on the playbill Mr. Rosenberg had placed on the board, confused at first, his eye brows shot up. “Oh, hell-no! I don’t want no part of that.” He looked around the room and his eyes fell on Carl. Flicking his hand toward him, he said, “You can be that Othello dude. It’s all yours.” He scoffed. “Like I’m gonna kill myself. Yeah, right.”

  Marcus gave Brie a triumphant look that vanished when her chair began sliding back, seemingly of its own accord. Doing a double take, Marcus slid his foot behind the chair leg to prevent it moving farther. “Oh no, we ain’t havin’ none o’ that, Lil’ Lindstrom. You scoot that chair right on back up here.” He pointed to the now empty space next to him. He turned to Jake who sat behind them. “Gordon, you keep your paws off her chair. You heard the man. ‘Not in this cubiculo.’”

  Brie looked back, over her shoulder. Jake sat up straighter, pulling his feet back. He gave her a playful eyebrow shrug. She pressed her lips together stifling a giggle and scooted her chair back up, next to Marcus.

  Chapter 24

  Brie entered the kitchen through the butlery, catching the tail end of Leif’s conversation.

  “So, it’s done then? . . . Yeah, it’s copied. Got it on my flash drive . . .” His head swung around when the service door to the garage slammed shut. “Gotta go,” he finished into the phone.

  She watched him pocket the phone he had just taken from his ear, then she eyed his phone on the counter. “Since when do you need two phones?”

  “One’s for work.” He picked up the phone from the counter and pocketed it as well.

  “A secret line?” she teased, looking into the refrigerator. She took out a small bottle of club soda.

  “You ask too many questions.” He shut the laptop, pulled out the flash drive and pocketed that, too. “So, how’d it go today? Did he look out for you?”

  “He has a name, you know. And, yes. Jake was great. I really like him, so please don’t sabotage this for me.”

  “I like this one, too.”

  “You liked Quinn.” Brie took a sip of her soda water.

  “No, I knew that would be over as soon as you moved here. He wasn’t in the picture that long. Besides, I didn’t like Quinn. I tolerated him, because he was scared shitless of me. He was a stuck-up pussy.

  “What?” She laughed, choking on her soda water.

  Chuckling, Leif patted her back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She raised her arm dismissively, still coughing. “Anyway, I don’t think Jake is afraid of you.”

  “No, he’s not, but he respects me, and I respect him.” Then, looking more serious, he added, “What’s more important, he respects you.”

  Brie took a lime out of the fruit bowl. “You know? He was mad about Mom leaving for New York when I got out of the hospital,” With her back to Lief, she sliced a small wedge from the lime and stuck it into her bottle of soda water. She studied the blade on the paring knife, and without breaking her skin, she ran her finger lightly over the serrated edge.

  “I like him even more now. Pretty soon Mom’s gonna be a has-been. I can’t believe she’s made it this long. She’s on the ramp with girls half her age. It’s gonna be a whole new can of worms to deal with.”

  She dropped the knife in the sink and turned to face him. “Leif? You didn’t know? You’ve been away much too long. She’s not on the ramp anymore. She’s an agent and producer now.”

  “What? Since when?”

  “Since right before we moved here. At some show in New York, she kind of fell into it when she started organizing the models, and of course, Rick was her photographer of choice. One of the producers got food poisoning and missed a show, Mom just took over in the dressing room, and I guess they liked her.”

  “And, you don’t think she’s gonna push you into it?”

  Brie shuddered. “They tried. The modeling portfolio? I wouldn’t . . .” She absently massaged the fine scars on her palm.

  “Hey, don’t worry about all that shit right now. Come on, let’s go for a run.”

  She nodded. “Oh wait! I can’t. I totally forgot, my friend Mia’s coming over. She’s in my Art class. She’s kind of helping me get caught up.”

  His eyes brightened. “A friend, huh?”

  Jake, dropped his helmet and shoulder pads onto the bench in front of his locker, and spun the dial on his combination.

  Next to him, without entering his combination, Troy banged on his locker and it popped open. Still wearing his practice pants and a dirty, sweat-soaked T-shirt, his face smeared with black smudges left from the paint he’d swiped under his eyes, he looked almost as filthy as Jake, the only difference being Jake’s practice pants were completely covered in dirt and grass stains. “You’re kidding me, right? No shower?”

  Jake took his clothes out of his locker, and along with his helmet and shoulder pads, he stuffed them into his equipment bag that he had pulled out from under the bench. “Dude, take a shower at home. I got no time. I promised Brie I’d be at her art show, but my dad needs me at home for something. I gotta shower and change, too. I’m sorry, man.”

  “Yeah, yeah. C’mon, let’s go.” Troy grabbed his equipment bag and headed to his car in his practice uniform with Jake leading the way. “You owe me, but I’m doing this for Brie. I hate getting in my car when I reek. And, you’re covered in dirt. At least, lose those muddy cleats.”

  Jake gave Troy a playful shove. “Consider it your birthday gift to me.”

  “Nah! We’ll party next weekend for that. That’ll give me time to plan something good.”

  “Uh . . .”

  “What? Ball and chain? You and Brie already got plans for next weekend?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not it. It’s not her. That band I joined up with, we’re playing at Carroll Creek next Saturday night for the Fall Fest.”

  “Really?” Troy laughed. “Maybe we can all go out after.”

  Jake shrugged, not sure how he would balance his commitment to the band and to his buddies. “I’ll be with the band. I mean—”

  “Chill. We can party the weekend after that in Baltimore, at States, after we win.”

  “Deal,” Jake said.

  Troy turned his playlist on. Jake reached over, cranked it up, and relaxed back in his seat for the rest of the ride.

  When Troy pulled up, Jake spotted his dad’s car parked by the curb in front of his house. Crap, why’d he leave his car out? I don’t have time to go out with them for my birthday. A grin crept onto his face. Oh yeah, he just left it there so I can take it to the art show. He checked the time on his phone, 5:35. Cutting it close, he whipped off a text to Brie, then turned to Troy. “Pop the trunk. Hey, thanks man, I’ll catch you later.”

  Troy bumped fists with Jake. “A’right.”

  Jake grabbed his gear, shut the trunk, and turned to see Teagan bounding out of the house with their father. Jake considered asking them to wait to celebrate his birthday until he got back from the art show. As the space closed between them, he saw Teagan couldn’t contain her excitement, and dropping his bags on the sidewalk, he softened. “We’re celebrating outside?” His brows went up and his indulging smile relaxed the tension in his face.

  Their dad seemed just as excited. “She couldn’t wait for you to get home. Could you Teag?”

  “I’ve been keeping this secret for a month.” Skipping up to her brother, sh
e presented him a small giftwrapped box. “Ever since Dad moved the drums to the basement.”

  “You want me to open it—here?”

  “Yes!” they both answered. Teagan giggled. “Hurry up!”

  “Okay, okay,” Jake laughed, still clueless. He removed the lid from the box. He first glanced at his sister, and then his eyes settled on his father. “No way. Really?”

  Teagan quieted and looked up at their dad. “Really, Jake.”

  “Dad, I . . .” He faltered.

  “It’s in the garage, son.”

  Taking the Jeep key fob out of the box, Jake looked toward the garage door.

  “C’mon Jake!” Teagan grabbed his hand, pulling him to the detached two-car garage. She punched in the code, opening the garage door to reveal the shiny, black Jeep Rubicon with a soft top.

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” Jake stepped back, taking in the entire vehicle. “Dad . . .” He looked at his father. “This is incredible! Can we afford it?”

  “Yeah. I got a great deal on it.”

  “Is it new?”

  “No, but it’s only four years old, and it’s in excellent condition.”

  Jake looked back at his Jeep. “Thanks, Dad,” he choked out. “This was worth waiting for.” He opened the driver’s side door. Whoa!

  “Can we go for a ride?” Teagan bounced, foot-to-foot.

  Jake checked the time on his phone again; how could he be ungracious? “Sure, come on Teag. Can we just go around the block, for now? I promise you a real ride this weekend. I still have to get cleaned up and get back to Brie’s art show.”