by C
“Alright, that’s fine. You don’t have to explain anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking. Then he leaned closer from across the small table. “Though maybe there might come the time when you would open your heart enough to share your paintings with me?”
She’d already grown accustomed to his intense gaze—his bold, unrelenting stare. Now, though, his eyes appeared soft and supplicating. His regular confidence gave way to a susceptible hope. She stared back at him, her heart divided. The thought of disappointing him felt repulsive. Yet, to reveal her carefully guarded paintings, even to him, seemed like a self-betrayal of sorts.
Amanda decided to mask her indecision. “We’ll see. Nikki might have first dibs on the paintings, though. I did meet her before you.”
“Game’s on. I’m warning you, though: I’m a tough competitor. Be prepared for me to win.”
For the remainder of the dinner, she hardly tasted a thing she ate; Ethan consumed her entire focus. She would have sat there for hours, talking with him, but at one point, he cast a quick glance out the front windows of the restaurant. “Shall we go?”
They stood up, and after he had paid the bill, they stepped outside into the city once again. Night had descended. A fluorescent glow lit the avenue, and even at this late hour, the streets were speckled with an assortment of people enjoying a night on the town.
She stared at the bright lights and crowds. “This couldn’t be more different from my hometown.”
“Let’s take a walk so you can soak it all in.”
They strolled, and he chatted about his experiences growing up, relating some of his adventures while abroad. He seemed to be leading them in a certain direction, but it wasn’t until they had just about reached the site that she could identify the place.
“Central Park?”
“You got it.”
Leaving the noisy avenue behind them, they made their way into the park, passing other couples meandering along the wooded paths. Rollerbladers zoomed by, carefree yet rather skillful. The evening had a taste of July in it, nature seemingly clinging to the last crumbs of Indian summer before it gave way to the crispness of autumn.
“Would it be okay if I hold your hand?”
Amanda looked at him, taken aback and touched by his respectful request. He was forward, but he wasn’t presumptuous.
“Sure … I’d like that.”
They walked along together, and she marveled at the feel of his fingers interlaced with hers. His hand was warm and his grip firm. They strolled along for a time until they came to a large pond. Gesturing to a park bench, he invited her to have a seat. He sat next to her, close enough so her leg just brushed against his. She looked at him, her breath escaping her. His face was so close.
“Blue …” His voice was so soft that only she could hear it. “Your eyes … I can see them in the moonlight. They’re an incredible dark blue.”
Intimidated by his powerful gaze, she had to look away. Above them, the moon shone against the dark sky. “That’s strange. I didn’t know you could see stars in the city, considering all the light pollution.”
“Only on clear nights can you see them.”
A memory came to her, unsummoned and escaping the vault where she repressed such recollections. “I remember, when I was young, I would just sit by my bedroom window, looking up at the stars. They were breathtaking, up in the mountains. Someone once told me that wishing on a star was offering a prayer from the deepest recesses of your heart and that the stars, watching over us, are like the angels.”
“Do you agree with that?” His tone sounded altered, his voice slightly sharp and guarded.
“No, not at all.” The memory faded like mist—far removed from where she was now and who she had become. “I learned a long time ago not to wish on stars.”
He seemed to relax, leaning back against the bench. “I will admit that they’re attractive balls of plasma.”
“Very true.”
“I have a childhood memory to share with you too. I remember when I was young, my dad invited me to his office and showed me some of the awards and accolades he had earned throughout the years. He told me something then that I never forgot. In a way, it has directed my life ever since. Do you want to know what he said to me?”
“After that introduction, you better tell me.”
“My dad advised me to tell myself in times of hesitation or doubt, ‘If it’s meant to be, it’s up to me.’” He looked upward at the night sky again. “I don’t wish on stars to make dreams come true. I am where I am today because of my own hard work. I had to make it happen.”
“That’s how I feel about being at the Masters Academy. It’s important to be self-reliant. You can’t really depend on other people.”
“You’re very much a loner, aren’t you?”
“It ends up that way most of the time, yes.”
“For the majority of my life, I was a loner. It was kind of inevitable, with moving around so much. I still revert to that sometimes.”
Amanda gave a small nod. “It’s hard to shake the demons of your past. As much as you grow up and try to move on, the experiences of your childhood are always there, haunting you.”
“Your past is part of you; it’s shaped who you are today. That’s not necessarily bad. But it’s the present that matters. It’s in the here and now that you can become whomever you desire.” He squeezed her hand. “And neither of us is alone right now.”
They were still, listening to the sounds of the night: the rustling of the water, the harmonious movement of trees around them, the melodic undertone of the slight breeze. In that simple yet profound moment, a sense of bliss filled Amanda—an overwhelming happiness that she had been convinced was permanently gone.
But she had been wrong. He made her feel alive again.
“As much as I regret saying this, I think we should head back.” Ethan stood up. “I know I have class tomorrow, and I’m presuming that you do as well.”
She had forgotten about her class on Monday. Actually, she had forgotten about everything but him.
They walked hand in hand back to his car. They reached her apartment building much too soon, and disappointment filled her at the thought of leaving him. He opened her door and, taking her hand, helped her out. They stood on the empty sidewalk, looking at each other.
Ethan smiled. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
“Thanks. … It was … great.” She regretted the words immediately. “Great” was such an understatement. If only she could find the right combination of adjectives to describe what this night meant to her, a night she would replay over and over again in her mind.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow at the Graduate Academy. Until then …” He brought her hand toward his mouth, pressing his lips against her skin. “… I wish you good night.”
After getting back into his car, Ethan drove away. She raised her head once more and looked at the night sky. The stars were gone, masked by cloud cover. She smiled to herself. As if she needed stars …
Chapter Seven
At Hell Gate
She reached the subway stop. A moment later, while she stood on the platform for the green line train to arrive, her phone began to ring. Could it be him?
Amanda thrust her hand inside her bag, seized the phone, and answered with breathless anticipation, not bothering to check caller ID. “Hello?”
“Well, hi, stranger!” Not Ethan, but a decidedly female voice spoke, one instantly recognizable.
“Oh. Hi, Chiara.”
Hearing her sister’s voice was itself an experience of home: the feel of the fuzzy carpet lining the staircase, the creaking of a certain floorboard in the hallway, the sight and scent of pine. It all seemed so far away now … and that wasn’t a bad thing. Amanda was creating her own home.
She slung her bag back over one shoulder. “Why are you calling?”
“Gee, why could I possibly be calling? Hmm. I don’t know … maybe since Dad and I haven’t heard from you fo
r more than a week now, we just wanted to make sure you were alive and breathing?”
“It was a busy week.”
“How’s the city? Do you love it?”
“Yeah.”
“And your roommate? What’s she like? Do you get along? She’s okay?”
“She’s nice.”
“What about the Masters Academy?”
“It’s alright.”
“Cool! Dad and I are doing good. Same old, same old. You know how things go around here.” Chiara laughed. “Oh, actually, there is one thing that happened. I think it was last Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday …”
“Last week sometime—I got it. What was it?”
“Do you know the Connollys? They have a son, Joe, and they live on Pinewoods Avenue, right past Supermarket Saver.”
“Yeah, I remember them.”
“Their dad, Dr. Connolly, was my orthodontist.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. What about them?”
“I rode my bike past their house, and it’s completely empty. No one has seen them for almost a week now.”
“Maybe they went on vacation or something.”
“But they never go away, Amanda. Dad couldn’t believe it when Dr. Connolly didn’t show up for the pancake breakfast at church last Sunday.”
“Maybe a family member got sick and they had to leave suddenly.” Was Amanda’s life this mundane before too? Time to change the subject. “How’s Boots doing?”
Chiara adored her horse and launched into the details of her upcoming horse show. “I’m pretty sure I can place in the top three. If Elise doesn’t show up—you know, the tall girl from Westport—then I might even have a shot at the trophy.”
“Good.”
“Dad wanted to talk with you too, but he’s at one of his opposition meetings. He’s had one almost every day. He wants you to call him this week so he can hear how things are going in the Big Apple.”
“Okay.”
More and more people were gathering on the subway platform, and it was getting hard to hear Chiara. Two bright points of light appeared down the tunnel: the subway was approaching.
“Hey, Chiara, I gotta go. My train is here.”
“Oh. Alright. I guess I’ll talk with you soon?”
“Sure. Bye.”
Amanda arrived at the Masters Academy and began searching for Ethan among the students loitering about the building. Some sprawled across the front steps, sketching, while others conversed over lattes. She didn’t spot Ethan anywhere, and in the end, she had to give up and go to Michael’s class.
“Today we’re going to start by reviewing the syllabus.” Michael put on his glasses and peered at his notes. “Let’s talk about the semester project. This is the real meat and potatoes of the class. It will count for more than half of your grade, so it would behoove you to pay close attention.
“One of the most effective methods of fine-tuning your technique is to study the masters. That is, in fact, the whole focus of this task: to complete a master copy. Each one of you will be assigned a painting in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I want you to visit the Met before our next class and make a preliminary sketch. You will then work on that sketch throughout the semester, eventually painting it, until you have emulated the master’s work as closely as possible. The syllabus spells out the deadlines and expectations. So if there aren’t any questions, I’ll hand out the assignments.”
Amanda once again had the misfortune of sitting next to Leila, who pursed her lips before saying, “I’d better not get some lame landscape.”
Michael stopped in front of her. “Actually, Leila, I think you’ll be happy to have Blue Green Red by Ellsworth Kelly. It’s in the modern art section.”
Leila took the slip of paper from his outstretched hand. “I know. I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
Michael came to Amanda. He stood there for a moment, staring at the dozen papers left in his hand. “I think that this will be most beneficial to you.” He handed her one, stuffing the rest in his pocket and walking away.
She turned the paper over and read the words written in Michael’s sloppy handwriting:
Portrait of a Mother, Anonymous, ca. 1570
Amanda frowned. This was the one subject she would least like to explore. She would just ask for another assignment. It wasn’t like there weren’t a thousand other works of art at the Met. She raised her hand, but Michael had already moved on and was now discussing the supplies required for the course. She would have to wait.
He at last dismissed the class. Amanda approached his desk, the slip of paper clenched in her hand. “Umm, excuse me? Michael? Can I ask you something?”
Rifling through some papers, he paused for a moment. “Go on.”
“Would it be possible to have another assignment for the semester project?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I … I can’t do another painting?”
“I’ve already handed out the assignments. Either you choose to do the one I gave you or you don’t. Simple enough?” Without waiting for her reply, he turned his attention back to his papers, one elbow leaning on the desk and his hand cradling his forehead.
The conversation had ended. She was stuck with Portrait of a Mother. She left the classroom, hoping to see Ethan in the hallway, but he wasn’t there. Her classes were done for the day, and she had no other reason to stick around. Yet he had said they would see each other, right? Had she been wrong? Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed their date after all. In fact, he probably regretted even asking her out in the first place. He just wasn’t interested in her, of course, and now he was avoiding her. No surprise there. People had a way of disappearing from her life.
Dejected, she hurried out the front door, her despondency driving her anywhere but here.
“Amanda?”
With her right foot on the lowest step of the staircase, she turned around, though she knew who had spoken to her.
“Ethan!”
He met her at the bottom of the stairs, his expression puzzled. “Are you in a hurry?”
“Not especially. Why?”
“You kind of walked right past me.”
“Oh shoot … really?”
“I remembered that your class got out at this time, so I waited for you by the front door. I guess you didn’t see me? Or maybe you didn’t want to see me?”
“No! No, not at all! I just figured you didn’t want to see me.”
“If I didn’t want to see you, I would have told you so last night. I don’t sugarcoat things, Amanda. You’ll always hear the truth from me.”
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.”
He pulled his keys out of his jeans pocket. “How about we take a drive?”
She nodded, and hand in hand, they walked toward his car.
“So where to, m’lady?” Ethan opened the passenger door for her.
“Well, I usually go back to my apartment after class.”
“To the apartment it is, then. Whatever you would like.” Flashing his brilliant smile, he revved the engine. “How was your class today? You seem deep in thought. Though, I’m beginning to understand that’s normal for you.”
“There’s just a lot on my mind.”
“You can unload some of those cares on me. Class didn’t go so well?”
“I don’t like the professor or other students too much.”
“Who’s the professor?”
“Michael Williams.”
Amanda saw instant recognition sweep across Ethan’s face, his frown revealing a shared dislike for the art teacher.
“Did you have him before too?”
Ethan put the window down and rested his arm on the car door. “No, but I’ve heard a lot about him. What’s your problem with the guy?”
She pretended to ponder the question while grasping for a credible answer. She couldn’t tell him about Portrait of a Mother. It would introduce a whole conversation she wasn’t ready for, one she avoided at all cost. She couldn’t talk about it because
the truth still hurt too much. “It’s his style. I don’t care for his technique at all. I wish he were more like the other professors who are contemporary in their methods.”
“That makes sense. Michael is without a doubt the black sheep of the faculty. I can’t imagine how he’s been able to hold on to his job.” Ethan pulled into an open space across from her apartment building and turned off the car.
What should she do now? Invite him upstairs? “Umm … so do you have something going on today?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you. I was hoping we could hang out together. Of course, if you have to go now, I’ll understand.”
“You can come upstairs.”
He rewarded her with a broad smile. They exited his car and entered the building. The blasting music coming from inside her apartment told her that Nikki was home. They hadn’t spoken yet since Nikki stormed off yesterday.
Standing in the hallway outside the door, Amanda poised her key halfway to the lock. “I forgot that Nikki is home. Maybe we better not go in.”
Ethan waved dismissively. “This is your apartment too. Who cares if Nikki is home? Maybe she should be the one to leave.”
Amanda took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and walked in. Ethan followed, tossing his coat on the couch. Nikki sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, typing on her laptop. She glared at both of them, her face turning red. She apparently hadn’t cooled off yet. Amanda stared at the floor and took a few steps behind Ethan.
“Hey, Nikki. How are things?” Ethan sat on the arm of the couch, crossing his arms.
“Don’t waste my time. I’m busy on an assignment.”
Ethan looked at Amanda. “She’s working on our new project for the National Citizens Party. We’re doing a billboard. You see, Nikki and I are both in the public relations department. She does photography; I do graphic design.”
Amanda smiled feebly in Nikki’s direction. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
Nikki scoffed. “Tell your boyfriend to stop fooling around and get me some graphics.”
“Leave her alone, Nikki.” Ethan’s playful tone carried an undertone of threat. “I’ll have them to you by tomorrow.”