Life Drawing for Beginners

by Roisin Meaney

  “Why?”

  “Her dad was one kind of dog, and her mum was another,” Audrey explained. “So she’s a mix of the two.”

  “I don’t like Dolly Mixtures,” he said, still watching the dog intently, “except the jelly ones. I like Mars bars better.”

  “Me too.” Audrey bent and released Dolly, who raced down the garden.

  “Where’s it going now?” Kevin asked.

  “Just for a little run,” Audrey said. “She has lots of energy, doesn’t she? Look how fast she can run.”

  “She’s jumping in the flowers,” Kevin said disapprovingly.

  Audrey sighed. “Yes, she is.”

  Every morning Kevin and his mother walked to the local shop, Pauline holding him by the hand, for the daily paper and whatever other bits and pieces they needed. Twice a week Kevin was collected by mini bus and taken to a day center in the grounds of the local hospital, where he socialized for a few hours with other disabled residents of Carrickbawn.

  “Audrey, there you are.”

  Pauline emerged from her house, holding a package wrapped in yellow paper. “We brought you a tiny little present from Cork, didn’t we, love?” She handed it to Kevin. “Why don’t you give it to Audrey?”

  He passed it solemnly over the hedge.

  “Ah, you didn’t.” Audrey unwrapped the package and lifted out the blue plastic mug with her name spelled out on the side in colorful cartoon letters.

  “It says Audrey,” Kevin said. “I saw it.”

  “Well, that’s just wonderful.” Audrey smiled at him. “That’s a lovely present, Kevin—thank you so much.”

  “And you got a new little dog,” Pauline said. “Isn’t he—” She stopped, her smile fading. “Oh, Audrey, what happened to your lovely dahlias?”

  “I got a dog,” Audrey said. “That’s what happened.”

  “Oh no, isn’t that awful. You’ll have to train him not to do that. Look Kevin, the little dog dug up poor Audrey’s flowers.”

  “And it tried to bite me,” Kevin said.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t think so, love,” Pauline said, exchanging a look with Audrey. “I’m sure he was just being friendly.”

  Kevin’s father had walked out when it became clear that his son would never grow up mentally. He lived about fifty miles away with his second family, and Kevin hadn’t seen him in over thirty years.

  Pauline had worked all her life, cleaning houses, childminding, tending gardens, taking in other people’s washing and ironing. When Kevin left his special school at eighteen Pauline gave up working outside the home, but two years later she was offered the job of housekeeper for a man whose wife had just died, leaving him with two young children.

  As soon as it was agreed that Kevin could accompany her to the house each day Pauline accepted the job and kept it for ten years, until the children were old enough not to need her any more. The daughter of the house, in her twenties now, still visited her old housekeeper regularly, and Audrey knew her to see and say hello.

  “Did you start your evening class?” Pauline asked.

  “I did, on Tuesday.”

  “Well? How did it go?”

  “Fine, apart from my model having last-minute nerves—oh, and apparently two people protested outside the college, although they were gone by the time I arrived, because my moped wouldn’t start.”

  “Lord, it sounds like you had your hands full. What was the protest about?”

  “Oh, they objected to the nudity.”

  “Well, haven’t some people got little to do. And what are your students like?”

  “Lovely—three women and two men.”

  “Two men—are they unattached? Anyone interesting?”

  Audrey laughed. “You’re worse than my mother. One is gorgeous but far too young, and the other is…very quiet.”

  Have you done this before? she’d asked James, and he’d said no, never, in his soft, singsong accent. His drawings were crude but they had a charming naïveté that appealed to Audrey. He’d given no indication that he’d enjoyed the class. He hadn’t attempted, as far as she knew, to make conversation with any of the others throughout the evening, and he’d gone missing at the break. Hopefully he’d open up a bit over time.

  When Pauline and Kevin left her to finish their unpacking, Audrey rinsed her gardening tools at the outside tap and returned them to the shed. Back in the kitchen she lit the oven and took a low-calorie pizza and a bag of oven chips from the freezer. She set the pizza on a baking sheet and added cubes of pineapple and strips of ham, and grated more cheese over the lot. No wonder it was low-calorie, with the tiny amount of topping they put on. She shook a generous handful of chips onto the tray beside the pizza. She wasn’t overly keen on oven chips—much too dry, you had to drown them in vinegar—but they were so handy.

  As she closed the oven door Dolly pattered in from the garden, soil scattering from her paws across the tiles. Audrey looked at her. “What am I going to do with you? When are you going to stop ruining the garden—not to mention the house? There isn’t a thing left you haven’t chewed.”

  At the sound of Audrey’s voice the little dog wagged her tail. She trotted to her water bowl and began to lap noisily.

  “I’m bringing you to the vet on Saturday,” Audrey went on. “You might need a few vaccinations, and he might give me some tips on how to train you. You’ll have to walk there, and it’s quite a long way, but I’ve got no carrier.” None of the supermarkets stocked them, and she was damned if she was going to darken that man’s door again.

  Dolly wandered away from the water bowl and pushed her head into the log basket, knocking two blocks onto the floor. She looked up at Audrey and barked happily.

  Audrey smiled. “That’s the trouble,” she said, retrieving the blocks. “You’re just so adorable.”

  —————

  “You’re kidding.”

  Jackie spooned foam from her cappuccino and shook her head. “Swear to God.”

  “You stripped? Everything?”

  “Every stitch. I was totally naked. Totally.”

  “Jesus.” Her friend blew on her tea. “Weren’t you mortified to have them all staring at you?”

  “I was at the beginning, I thought I was going to throw up. But once I realized they weren’t, you know, getting turned on by it—” she giggled “—I kind of relaxed.”

  “Jesus…I’d have died.”

  “Ah no, it’s grand.” Jackie ran her spoon around the rim of her mug, gathering more foam. “It’s just art. There’s nothing sleazy about it.”

  “I know, but still.”

  “And you can’t breathe a word, remember. Not to anyone. Imagine if my folks got to hear.”

  “I know, don’t worry.”

  “And…”—she licked the spoon—“…there’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “There’s this guy in the class…it’s nothing really, I haven’t even talked to him—”

  “But you fancy him, and he’s seen you naked.”

  Jackie giggled again, her eyes on the steady stream of people passing the café window. “Well, yeah, I suppose—” She broke off abruptly. “Oh my God, I don’t believe it.”

  Her friend swung around. “What? What is it?”

  “He’s just walked past,” Jackie said. “Just this second, while we were talking about him. How weird is that?”

  Looking different today, striding purposefully along the path in a dark shirt and grey trousers. Two nights ago he’d been in blue jeans and a white T-shirt, and a navy jacket had been slung across the back of his chair.

  But it was him, she was sure.

  “Go after him,” her friend was urging. “Go on, just pass him and say hello.”

  “Ah no.” She couldn’t, not when she’d been sitting naked in front of him the night before. Not when he’d been looking at her breasts, and her thighs, and everything in between. “No, I’ll leave him off.”

  But there were five more Tuesday evenin
gs to go. Who knew what might happen in five evenings?

  —————

  The mechanic took Irene’s business card from his wallet and looked at it. Personal trainer, he read. All levels covered from beginner to advanced. Fully personalized fitness programs to tone and strengthen. And below, a mobile telephone number and an email address.

  He could see her in a leotard, or sweatpants and a T-shirt maybe. No high heels in the gym, a pair of runners. She wouldn’t look bad in those either. A bit older than him, but in good nick—and game for a bit of fun, he was sure.

  The toaster popped and he slid the card back and spread the warm slices with butter and gooseberry jam. The kettle boiled and he poured water onto the tea bag in his mug and added two spoons of sugar and a generous amount of milk. Using the bread board as a tray, he brought his supper into the sitting room and pressed “play” on the DVD remote control, and Reservoir Dogs came out of its freeze and swung back into action.

  He ate his toast and watched the characters on the screen, and he thought about ringing the number on the little white card and booking a free trial with the personal trainer. He had tracksuit bottoms somewhere, they’d do if they didn’t have paint on them, and if his wife hadn’t thrown them out. His runners were a bit ancient, but he wasn’t getting a new pair for just one session in a gym.

  He lifted his mug and drank the hot, sweet, milky tea. He could use a bit of exercise, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’d stayed late on Tuesday to finish off her car. It was just a little thank-you she was offering, along with the €50. Fifty euro—she must be loaded.

  And if she came on to him, and if he took her up on it, and if nobody got hurt in the process, where was the harm?

  He heard his wife’s key in the door and he took his feet off the coffee table.

  The Second Week

  September 28–October 4

  —————

  An uncharacteristic outburst, an unexpected encounter, and an impulsive decision.

  Friday

  Can I go to Eoin’s house to play? He says I can go.”

  James regarded his daughter over his not-very-good cheeseburger. “We’ll see. Are you going to eat those chips, or just play with them?”

  She bit the top off a skinny chip. “He lives with his granny and granddad.”

  “Who does?”

  “Eoin.”

  “Oh.”

  “And his dad is in heaven.”

  “Ah.” James lifted the lid on his burger and sniffed the bright orange slice of cheese. It smelled of nothing. “That’s a pity. So his mum brings him to school.”

  “Yeah.”

  Charlie never talked about Frances now, never mentioned her at all. James remembered the incessant questions, right after it happened: Where’s Mummy? Why isn’t she coming back? Where did she go? Why is she taking such a long time? He remembered not knowing what to say, how he’d wanted to be honest with her. But how could he be honest, how could you explain “disappeared” to a four-year-old?

  He tried to recall when the questions had finally stopped, when she’d given up trying to get answers. He wondered if she remembered her mother at all now, if she recalled her face, or her voice, or her smell. Two years in the life of a six-year-old would, he supposed, be long enough to banish a whole lot of memories.

  “She has purple boots.”

  “Who?”

  “Eoin’s mum.”

  James smiled. “Has she? Maybe she’s a witch.”

  Charlie threw him a pitying look. “She’s not a witch, she works in a shop.”

  “Maybe they sell magic spells.”

  “Daddy.”

  He heard voices and looked across at the counter. The girl who’d served them was in conversation with a man who’d just appeared, and who seemed to be taking over from her. James caught his eye and nodded at him. The man nodded back, giving a brief grin, but James wasn’t sure if he remembered him.

  “Do you know that man?” Charlie asked.

  “I do,” James told her. “He goes to my drawing class.”

  Charlie studied him. “Is he your friend?”

  “He is. He’s very good at drawing.”

  What had surprised James was how much he’d enjoyed the class. Oh, not that he’d produced a single worthy specimen—his efforts had been laughable, although the teacher had done her best to be encouraging. He seemed to remember her talking about the energy of his drawings, which he suspected was the kind of phrase people used when there was absolutely nothing positive to say.

  But the clean smell of the paper, the tiny scratching sounds of his pencil, the squeak of the charcoal, the comforting squidgy feel of his putty rubber, the peaceful atmosphere in the room as everybody worked—all this he’d found wonderfully soothing. In fact, when the teacher had announced a break, he hadn’t been able to believe that they were halfway through.

  Not that it had started off well. Her late arrival had been annoying—​was she going to make a habit of this, were they going to be twiddling their thumbs every Tuesday waiting for her? James had found himself obliged to make some effort at conversation with the Pole, who sat next to him. Thankfully, the man’s broken English meant that they were limited to the smallest of small talk.

  But when she’d eventually shown up, the teacher’s obvious discomfiture aroused his sympathy—they could hardly blame her for a moped breakdown. All things considered, the evening had been much more pleasant than James had anticipated.

  He’d still kept his distance from the others—although he couldn’t avoid the odd glance at the Polish man’s work, and he’d registered the much more accomplished drawings there. He’d also noted the nervousness of the model—you could hardly miss it, she’d looked like she was about to throw up. Clearly her first time, poor thing.

  He had to admit that it felt good to be in the company of others who made no demands on him. It was the first step he’d taken towards having a social life in two years, and while he recognized the need to be part of society again, if only for Charlie’s sake, he was wary at every turn.

  He was glad now he hadn’t signed up for French. In a language class there’d be conversations to be had, and probably other oral exercises to tackle. Inevitably, attention would have been focused on James from time to time—​whereas in the drawing class he could work away on his own, with little need for conversation for the whole two hours.

  The rest of them probably thought he was antisocial, which didn’t bother him half as much as it probably should have. Over the past two years, he’d become adept at dismissing other people’s opinions. When anonymous letter writers had sent him messages that were soaked in hate, when whispered conversations had stopped abruptly every time he walked into a shop, when people he’d known all his life had crossed the street to avoid him, he’d learned quickly enough to ignore it all, and he now realized how much it had hardened him.

  “Finished,” Charlie announced, pushing three chicken nuggets under her serviette.

  “I saw that.”

  “What?” Smiling, not at all disconcerted. He was far too soft on her. “What, Daddy?”

  “Wrap them up,” he told her, “and we’ll bring them home to Monster.”

  Monster was Eunice and Gerry’s aptly named black cat. He carried out regular forays of the neighborhood gardens, demolishing birds and mice alike. Maybe a few pieces of processed chicken would get a stay of execution for the thrushes.

  “When can I go to Eoin’s house?” Charlie asked again as she bundled the nuggets into a clumsy parcel, and James knew the subject would have to be faced sooner or later.

  “When I meet his mum,” he answered, getting up. “Here, give me your schoolbag.”

  As they were leaving he caught the Polish man’s eye again, and nodded a farewell. The Pole raised a hand before turning back to the giggling teenage girls in school uniforms who were placing their order.

  Someone who looked like him would have no problem getting women—​and being foreig
n probably added to his attraction. Looked like he had to fight them off.

  James wondered sometimes if he’d ever have another relationship, if Frances would be replaced in time. Would he ever be able to get past what had happened, would he find the courage to try again with someone else? Although, with his history, he couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to get involved with him.

  He shepherded his daughter from the café, holding the door open for a young woman and a little boy who were just coming in. It was beginning to rain.

  —————

  Carmel stood to one side, pretending to read the menu, until the schoolgirls had finished flirting with the man behind the counter. When they’d gone she walked up to him and said, “Large chip.” As he ladled the chips into a cardboard box she counted out the amount from the coins she’d been given at the bus station.

  “Can I have a burger?” Barry asked. It sounded like “bugguh” when he said it.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “The chips’ll be enough, you’ll be full after them.”

  She handed the man her heap of coins, waiting for his sigh of impatience at all the copper, but he simply counted them into the various compartments of his cash register. When he had finished, Carmel said, “There’s a sign in the window: ‘Help Wanted.’”

  “Okay,” he replied, reaching under the counter and pulling out an application form. She liked that he was polite, that he didn’t look at her the way most people did, as if she had no right to ask.

  He passed the form across the counter. “You fill this, please. You need pen?”

  Carmel looked at the form, and then back at him. “Can’t I jus’ talk to the manager?”

  “No, sorry—manager is gone home now. She will come back tomorrow.”

  She. Carmel imagined a woman in high heels and red lipstick who’d dismiss her before she opened her mouth. “Will you hang on to the chips?” she asked the man, taking the form and folding it. “I’m just going into the toilets.”

  “Of course.”

  In the toilets she put the form in the bin and washed Barry’s face and hands, using soap from the dispenser, and ran wet fingers through his hair.