Lesson In Red

by Maria Hummel

  “No, I don’t want water,” he protested. “You don’t need to stay, though. Isn’t it almost six?”

  It was 5:50. “I’m heading out soon,” I said. “Hal said to call him. He came through about an hour ago.”

  He looked alarmed. “Did you tell him where we were?”

  “I didn’t know,” I said. “I assumed you were getting lunch?”

  He nodded, but mistrust flickered in his face. “Right,” he said, turning away. “I’ll call him.”

  My phone hummed. Ray. Anyone there?

  Only P, I texted back. Angry. But calmer now.

  Pack up. I’m at same coffee shop.

  Pearson was staring at the distorted column, his shoulder slumped, forehead dripping. “Are the others coming back?” I asked, wishing that I had an obvious motive to stay yet also relieved to flee.

  He shrugged.

  I gathered my few things. “I have to go. You’ll lock up?” I called to him.

  “If I ever go home,” he muttered and walked up to the desk. His black shirt clung with sweat. “Hey, sorry for my performance.”

  “Seems like it was a breakthrough.” I gestured at the distorted column. “It’s so Hal.”

  Pearson regarded his own handiwork and blew out a breath. “We’ll see.” His voice was light, but his eyes did not hide his bitterness.

  RAY WAS WAITING OUTSIDE THE coffee shop. “You okay?” he said when he saw my face.

  “He didn’t come anywhere near me,” I said. “Thank God I’m not a stiletto, though. He smashed one until the heel broke through the sole. I’m guessing he didn’t like what he saw in the video.”

  “No.” Ray looked me over again. “You feel safe going back there tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I’m not on his bad side. But if I was—” An image of Pearson’s hands holding a pummeled sneaker stopped me. “I won’t be alone with him.”

  As Ray drove me to a taqueria in Mar Vista, I gave him the main details of my day, except for seeing Layla and Nelson, which I wanted to hold for later. The restaurant—with a cracked linoleum floor and the smells of grilled peppers, onions, and beef—was a recommendation by Alicia Ruiz. Before long, we were sitting in an orange booth with giant plates of cochinita pibil and carnitas tacos.

  “So Pearson smashed some shoes, Layla told you to quit, and Erik looked guilty,” said Ray.

  “There’s something else,” I said. I started to launch into spotting Layla and Nelson together when Ray’s phone buzzed.

  He looked at the number and rubbed his head. “Sorry. I have to get this, and it might take a few minutes. Why don’t you listen to the interviews while I’m out?”

  Before heading outside, he slipped a recorder onto the table and pulled a set of headphones from his knapsack. I put them on, the leather cupping my ears. Zania went first. I listened to her for a little while. She denied recognizing the male in the video, but she didn’t sound convincing. Instead, she wanted to make a point. Many points.

  Zania: The thing is, you could see this video as art or you could see it as a call for help, but Brenae, she saw everything as art. She saw everything and everyone as a step higher. You know? She was on a ladder and every person she met, even friends, even men, was a rung. So this guy, whoever he is, was he really abusing her, or was she staging something to make a point? Maybe she wanted to show injustice for women . . . or maybe she just was over someone and had regret sex with him. I mean, who films their own sex life anyway, and then tries to build a career on it? Perverts. But she wasn’t a pervert. She was self-obsessed.

  People want to cast Brenae as a saint now, but she didn’t want to be a saint. She wanted to be a star. That’s different. And she was a star. This video is art. That’s the problem. It’s art, but it’s a cry for help and it’s for perverts. So what do you do with it? What does the school do with it? What do the police do with it? What does a gallery do with it? I need some water. My throat is getting dry.

  Just beyond the window of the restaurant, Ray paced, his hand to his ear, the expression on his face amused and patient. My eyes fell on his knapsack, opened a crack, a slim black notebook inside. Without waiting for any reservations to kick in, I eased it out, eyes on Ray. As if he sensed my gaze, he looked back. I touched the headphones and gave him a thumbs-up. When he turned away, I flipped quickly through the notebook. His handwriting was tinier than a line of ants, but I saw a whole lot of e-mail addresses, some of which had an illicit ring—getsum@hotmail.com, icepartay@yahoo.com—and dozens of cell numbers. Then I saw a date and the names of people I recognized and some I didn’t, including Layla Goetz-Middleton, Erik Reidl, Nelson de Wilde, Dee Rager, Phil and Spike Dingman, and someone named Genevieve, no last name, with a question mark after her.

  I slipped the notebook into the bag.

  The addresses looked like dealers of some kind. The names looked like a list of art-world people. The date was a year ago, around the time his brother Calvin died.

  I went back to Zania’s interview.

  Ray: So you had no knowledge of this video before today.

  Zania: No. I knew she was working on a couple of projects about LAAC, but she didn’t say what they were. After London, she wasn’t around much. We didn’t hang together. The crew disbanded.

  Ray: Someone erased this off her hard drive after she died.

  Zania: That’s gross.

  Ray: Any guesses who?

  Zania: No.

  Ray: And you don’t recognize the male in this?

  Zania: His head is blurred out for a reason. We’re not supposed to know who he is. We’re supposed to see him for what he is.

  Ray: What’s that?

  Zania: The patriarchy. The systems of oppression that start at birth, privileging boys over girls and men over women. This woman, Brenae, she can’t leave the system. The only way she can participate is by letting it screw her.

  Ray: Say someone shared this video with the press. Tomorrow. Whom would it affect the most?

  Zania: Obviously, LAAC. The school would be exposed. And the guy, I guess, if people do figure out his name. But he walked into that. He should have known who Brenae was.

  Ray: Would LAAC be exposed, though? There’s no evidence this happened at the school.

  Zania: Brenae told a lot of people that her next two projects were about LAAC. She told me. It’s not a big leap of logic.

  Ray: But there’s nothing on here to suggest it’s the school’s fault that she’s in this situation.

  Zania: It’s a metaphor. The school is the situation. And the art world. Male artists getting the praise. Male artists getting the scholarships and gallery shows and biggest price tags. Male artists getting into museum collections, two to one, sometimes three to one.

  Ray: Has your experience at LAAC reflected this? Hal’s crew once had three women and two men.

  Zania: I’m an undergrad, as everyone loves to remind me. My opinion isn’t that important.

  Ray: Still, I’d like to hear about your experience.

  Zania: My experience? It’s busy. Really busy. And I’m afraid I can’t spend any more time on this right now. I hope your client finds the answers they want.

  I fast-forwarded and let it play on Layla.

  Ray: I really appreciate you meeting with me. As I’ve explained, my client, as a former donor to LAAC, is concerned about Brenae Brasil’s treatment at the school and wants to understand what happened leading up to her death.

  Layla: To what end? I mean, what will you do with what we tell you?

  Ray: If the school committed any wrongdoing, my client will encourage the board to investigate further.

  Layla: Would I be called in to testify or something?

  Ray: Not necessarily.

  Layla: I don’t want to be called in.

  Ray: Fair enough. Can you tell me how long you knew Brenae Brasil and in what context?

  Layla: I met her last fall when she started the program at LAAC and Hal put her on the crew.
<
br />   Ray: What were your impressions of Brenae’s time at LAAC?

  Layla: I don’t think she was ready for how hard it was. How hard it is.

  Ray: What makes it hard?

  Layla: I mean, college is about potential, but when you hit grad school you really have to become something. You can’t just be someone’s shining possibility. I think she was lonely, too. She didn’t make friends that easily.

  Ray: Were you friends?

  Layla: We socialized. I would say we were strong acquaintances, but she wouldn’t call me her friend.

  Ray: Would you call her your friend?

  Layla: No. I guess not.

  Ray: Was her suicide a surprise to you?

  Layla: Of course it was a surprise. We were all devastated.

  Ray: Was she close with anyone on the crew—Pearson, Zania, Erik?

  Layla: I don’t know.

  Ray: You couldn’t tell?

  Layla: I don’t know. We all worked together. Ask them.

  Ray: I’d like to show you a video that Brenae made before she died. It was erased from her laptop by someone after her death, but a copy remained and found its way to my client.

  Layla: What do you mean someone erased her laptop? You mean the police?

  Ray: No, not the police. It appears someone handled her laptop after she committed suicide but before the school found the body.

  Layla: That’s horrible.

  Ray: Hard to imagine, isn’t it?

  [pause]

  Layla: I’m ready for the video.

  Ray: The material may be upsetting to you. You can tell me to turn it off at any time.

  [Brenae’s voice-over plays for an excruciatingly long time. Then there’s a click and shuffling sound. Then a protracted silence.]

  Layla: What do you want me to say?

  Ray: Do you recognize the people?

  Layla: I recognize Brenae.

  Ray: Not the man?

  Layla: No.

  Ray: Do you have any thoughts as to why Brenae made this?

  Layla: No.

  Ray: How about who would destroy it?

  Layla: I don’t know.

  Ray: I think you might.

  Layla: I’ve never seen this in my life.

  [Another silence.]

  Layla: You think I could watch this and erase it? It’s sickening.

  Ray: What would you have done with this video if you saw it six months ago?

  Layla: I didn’t see it, okay? I’m done. You can talk to the next person.

  [A door slam.]

  Then Erik.

  Ray: I really appreciate you meeting with me. As I’ve explained, I work for a client who is concerned about Brenae Brasil’s treatment at LAAC and wants to understand what happened at the school leading up to her death.

  Erik: Don’t we all. I’m glad you’re doing this. I really am. The police—they covered what they needed to cover—but it’s not over. There are people still really wounded about her death.

  Ray: What people?

  Erik: Just like all the students who believed in her, you know? They just showed Packing out near Joshua Tree last weekend, and people were amazed. There were about thirty new art installations out there, and all anybody could talk about was if they had seen Packing or not. Brenae was a titanic talent. She should not be forgotten.

  Ray: You shot Packing.

  Erik: Yes, I did.

  Ray: You were the cinematographer for Brenae’s undergraduate films as well.

  Erik: You did your homework.

  Ray: How long did you know her?

  Erik: Almost three years. And yes, because I know you’re going to ask, we were in a consensual relationship for about eight months.

  Ray: When?

  Erik: It started in 2001. Lasted most of the school year at USC. Ended in the summer. Kind of badly, but I was going off to grad school and I wanted to focus. I wanted to cleave tight to my work. I was in a really ascetic phase for eight months, fasting and no sex, no drugs. Lots of walking in the desert.

  Ray: Why?

  Erik: Why what?

  Ray: The fasting and the abstinence.

  Erik: I wanted to purify myself.

  Ray: From what?

  Erik: For what. For my art.

  Ray: Did your relationship with Layla end your phase?

  Erik: Actually, it was the night I went to Fatburger and ate six cheeseburgers in a row. I couldn’t stop. After I puked them up, I thought to myself, This is BS. I am twenty-two years old. I am supposed to taste life. And I was done with being a monk. [pause] You think I’m joking, but I’m dead serious.

  Ray: When did you start dating Layla?

  Erik: We got together around the last week of school—2002, I mean.

  Ray: Was it monogamous?

  Erik: Huh?

  Ray: Did you engage in physical relationships with other people after you started dating Layla?

  Erik: No. No.

  Ray: Did Layla know about you and Brenae?

  Erik: No one knew. We didn’t tell anyone.

  Ray: How did you meet Brenae at USC?

  Erik: I was her TA. But before you ask any more questions, I swear that I didn’t grade any of Brenae’s work. There were a couple of teaching assistants in the class, and so I made sure that I never had any part in her academic record. If I had, I would have championed her too much. [laughs] I thought she was crazy brilliant.

  Ray: And you chose to conceal your relationship.

  Erik: We both thought it was better to keep it on the down low during the first semester, because of the TA thing, and then we just kept doing it that way.

  Ray: Doing what?

  Erik: You know. Making her videos. Hooking up. Honestly, it was a very sexual, passionate thing. But not boyfriend-girlfriend. We were both really, really committed to our work, really pure about it, and we didn’t want the distraction of anything else.

  Ray: Let’s move on from USC. How often did you see each other once Brenae enrolled at LAAC?

  Erik: At first, not much. Then she got on Hal’s crew and it was hard not to be thrown together all the time, especially when we went to London. But I didn’t give her any encouragement, and I didn’t reject her. It was just neutral, you know? That made her mad.

  Ray: How did she react?

  Erik: She made a fucking mess for me. When we went to London, Brenae told Layla that we were still involved. Layla confronted me, and it led to this huge fight. I told Brenae off. Pretty forcefully. And I think that at the same time, Brenae’s brother got arrested, and so she left campus for a while to fix that, and when she came back, she was in bad shape with her professors. Meanwhile, I don’t know what happened, but Brenae was off Hal’s crew and then her funding got cut. I should have defended her. I should have done something, but it was so sick when I left USC and broke things off. She started cutting herself, and she made screen prints with the blood and sent them to me. She could be so strong and fierce, and just dissolve like that. Like it was all someone else’s fault that she was hurting so much.

  Ray: Do you think she may have grown to view your relationship differently than you did?

  Erik: It was always cool between us. It was all about the art. Her art. She needed me and I gave. The sex was a definite perk for both of us.

  Ray: Did you see Brenae the last week she was alive?

  Erik: I tried. I went to her studio, actually.

  Ray: What day?

  Erik: It was a Tuesday, I think.

  Ray: Why did you go that day?

  Erik: Don’t recall. Best day for my schedule, I guess.

  Ray: But what specifically prompted you to visit her? If you were “being neutral,” as you say. If she’d been melting down for weeks.

  Erik: I don’t know.

  Ray: You sure?

  Erik: You know, I was stopping by someone else’s studio, and I thought I should check on her because she’d kind of disappeared.

  Ray: So what did you do?

  Erik: I knocked on her
door. She didn’t answer. I walked away. That’s it.

  Ray: That’s it?

  Erik: Yes.

  Ray: Did Hal Giroux ever talk with you about Brenae?

  Erik: We all talked about each other. It’s grad school. The conversation goes on 24/7.

  Ray: What did Hal say to you regarding Brenae?

  Erik: He thought she was really talented.

  Ray: As talented as you?

  Erik: I’m not comfortable with that question. Is there anything else? I thought you had something to show us.

  Ray: Did Hal tell you anything about a video that Brenae made?

  Erik: You mean the one she was making about parties?

  Ray: A different one. A more intimate one.

  Erik: Not sure what that means, but no.

  Ray: You sure.

  Erik: Yes.

  Ray: Okay.

  [a rustling sound, then Brenae’s voice-over]

  Erik [after a minute]: Jesus. This is so wrong. This is just crap. This is just the kind of crap she would do. Jesus.

  Ray: You had no knowledge of this?

  Erik: Turn it off. I’ve seen enough. I should have known.

  Ray: Should have known what?

  Erik: Listen. This kind of thing—it destroys people. You can quote me on that to whoever you want. The police. The board of trustees. This kind of thing destroys people. I never forced her to do anything.

  Ray: Did Hal warn you that Brenae had filmed you forcing her into sex?

  Erik: What? I never forced her.

  Ray: But he did warn you, and you went to talk to Brenae at her studio. My guess is she told you off. Then what? You knew she had a gun.

  Erik: You think I’m a killer?

  Ray: Of course I don’t. But I need to know what happened when you talked to her.

  Erik: You’re trying to trap me. Showing me this crap. I’m done here—

  “How far did you get?” Ray was back.

  “Just got to Erik accusing you of calling him a killer,” I said. “I listened to most of Zania’s and all of Layla’s.”

  Ray sent a fork into one of his soft tacos. “Pearson monologued quite a bit on his position as an outsider to what he referred to as the ‘student melodramas.’ But he went beet red when he actually saw the video.”