Second Chance for Romance

Chapter 3

Life settled into a routine in the new house. Class and studying took up most of our time, but Trip and I started working out together at the Sports Bubble.

Wren and Christy found an aerobics class at the same time, so we went together.

Separately, I kept up my morning runs, mostly to have some time to myself. I also made time for judo twice a week with my friend Glen. The girls went to the swimming pool about as often, while Trip joined an intramural football team with a couple of guys from his management class.

Wren made dinner most nights, although the rest of us promised to take an occasional turn to give her a break. Christy was a decent cook, but Trip and I were pretty bad. I steeled myself for Wren’s criticism, but she always found something to compliment (except once, when I carbonized dinner because I’d been sketching ideas for my design project; we ordered pizza that night).

Christy still hadn’t decided what to do for her exhibition. She was starting to panic, so I brought it up one evening as we lingered over wine after dinner.

“How should I know?” she snapped. “You think of something.”

“Okay,” I said, unruffled, “how about a modern take on a classic? You know, like you did with Michelangelo’s David. You could do a Discobolus or Doryphoros. Or maybe something like the Farnese Hercules.”

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“About what?” Wren said.

“How much he knows about art.”

“I like art,” I said. “Yours especially.” I was trying to cheer her up, but

she wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you do something like The Dying Gaul?”

“More like The Dying Paul,” she muttered.

“Sure, I’ll pose for you. It’ll be fun. I miss doing it for Siobhan’s class.”

“You just like getting naked in front of a bunch of women,” Wren teased.

“There were some guys in those classes.”

She snorted.

“I can’t do anything like that,” Christy said gloomily.

“Sure you can,” Wren said. “We’ve all seen your work.”

“And you’d better get started soon,” Trip added. Wren glared at him, but he ignored her. “November is right around the corner. When’s the show?”

“The twenty-second,” I said.

Christy’s head came up. “How do you know?”

“Well, it’s all over the A&A building. And, um… Siobhan sort of talked to me. A few days ago.”

Christy blinked in surprise. “What did she say?”

“She… uh… said that you might need a little inspiration.” She’d actually said that Christy was depressed and suffering from a creative block, and could I help?

Wren met my eyes and understood immediately, although she didn’t say so aloud. “What’s this dying guy look like?” she asked instead.

“The Dying Gaul,” I corrected. “He’s a warrior sitting on the ground, dying. Duh. I know that doesn’t do it justice, but…”

“It’s very emotional,” Christy said. “He’s been stabbed, and he knows he’s dying. You can see his pain.”

“Sounds depressing,” Trip said.

Wren shot him another glare.

“It isn’t,” Christy said. “He’s brave and very dignified. He’s a warrior.”

She looked at me. “Do you really think I can do it?”

“You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“And you’d pose for me?”

“Absolutely. As long as you don’t mind if I read or study to pass the time.”

She shook her head.

“Then it’s a deal.”

“I don’t want to do an exact copy,” she said.

I smiled to myself and watched her creative wheels start turning.

“I want to do something new and original, but inspired by the classic.”

“That’s the spirit!” Wren said.

“I know just the thing,” I said. “Let me run upstairs and get a book. It’s perfect. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? ”

“Huh?”

“Trust me.”

And so I began posing for Christy. We worked in the afternoons, when the light in her studio was best. The Gaul himself was nude in the classical sculpture, but I wore a pair of running shorts. The pose wasn’t very comfortable, but I could manage for a couple of hours at a time.

Christy focused completely once she started on a project. She was all artist, consumed by her creation. We talked before and after each session, but never during. Consequently, I had a lot of free time on my hands.

Mostly I worked on my own project, albeit in my head. My original idea had been to design a museum. I’d written the proposal and Joska had approved it, but I hadn’t been particularly inspired by any of my design sketches. Then Christy unknowingly gave me an idea.

She liked to work in her beanbag chair. She lay half-curled as she sketched me from different angles. One day I was simply staring into space when my eyes started tracing the lines of her body, from thighs to hips to waist. She was a tiny girl, but not skinny. She had all the right proportions, and I was thinking about how she was basically a regular-sized woman, only smaller.

Then I imagined a woman like her, but larger, the size of a building.

Could I design one like the curve of a woman’s body? I didn’t want a lot of support structure to mar the lines, so the roof would have to be cantilevered from the rear. That would let me design the façade as a glass curtain wall. I didn’t want the building to be sexual or even obvious; I simply wanted it to suggest a woman’s curves.

The challenge was exciting: how to design a workable building in the shape of a woman. I made several sketches, first of Christy as I remembered her, then of the building itself. Since the entire project was simply made up, I decided that my site would be the face of a low hill.

The cantilevered roof—the visible part, at least—would be supported by a

long pier that was actually the back wall of the museum itself. The rear half of the roof would slant into the hill and be covered by earth. That let me add landscape elements, which would make the building blend into its surroundings. The interior would be natural materials and woods that mimicked skin tones. It was all very Frank Lloyd Wright.

I was talking about it to Trip one day when the girls returned from the pool. They came into the dining room to find out what we were talking about.

I laid out my design sketches and explained a couple of creative leaps. Trip liked the idea. So did Wren.

Christy leafed through the sketches in my book. She was an incredibly talented artist, especially where people were concerned, so I wanted her opinion. She nodded several times, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She turned another page and reached the early drawings, the sketches of her.

“You gave me the idea,” I said enthusiastically. “You were curled up in your beanbag, drawing me, while I was drawing you in my head.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Trip said.

“This is me?” Christy said. She traced a finger over the sketch and then looked at the larger drawing of the building itself.

“It is. Do you like it?”

She was silent for a long time.

I found myself holding my breath again.

She looked up, her expression unreadable. “Do you think I’m going to sleep with you now?” she said. “Just because you drew me?”

I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. Then I felt a flush of anger. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Well, isn’t it?”

I suddenly felt disconnected, like a wall had sprung up around my emotions.

I gathered my drawings and closed them in my sketchbook. I looked at Christy but couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wasn’t spiteful. I stared at her for a moment. Then I turned and left.

“Wow,” Wren said to her, “you really don’t understand him at all.”

I spent the next day brooding, and I avoided the house when I knew Christy would be there.

Screw her, I thought viciously. If that’s what she thinks about me…

I was so full of pent-up frustration that I challenged Glen at judo practice.

He was bigger, stronger, and a better fighter, but he couldn’t compete with cold fury. He knew I was upset, but he never said a thing, even when I slammed him a lot harder than I should’ve, especially in a friendly match.

I left before the sensei could kick me out. I heard Glen talking to them as I stormed off, telling them that he was fine, that I just needed to work some things out. I felt guilty, especially as the adrenaline wore off and I thought about what I’d done.

I went home, but only because I knew that the girls would be at the pool and Trip would be at football practice. I took a long shower and let the cold water run over me until I felt the anger wash away. Why did I let Christy get to me like that?

The phone rang as I was sitting on my bed.

“Hello?”

“Paul? Hey, it’s Mark!”

I drew a blank. “Mark who?”

“Leah’s Mark, ya doofus. I’ve been trying to reach you for days!” He laughed. “Doesn’t anyone answer the phone there?”

“Sorry. We don’t have an answering machine.”

“Hey, no problem. I understand. So let me get to the reason I called. I wanna have a small party for Leah’s birthday.”

I felt a fresh wave of guilt, but for a completely different reason: I’d forgotten.

“I know it’s last-minute,” he said, “but she’s feeling kind of ignored.”

“Ignored?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s getting ready for Kara’s wedding next week. They still…”

I wanted to kick myself. I’d forgotten about the wedding too, and I’d known for a month. Kara had even asked me to be an usher.

“…so things’re a bit crazy over there,” Mark was saying when I tuned back in. “No one’s said a thing about Leah’s birthday. Anyway, I’m hoping you and Trip and Wren can come to Atlanta this weekend.”

“Trip and Wren can’t,” I said immediately. “They’ll be in Savannah.”

“Oh. Can they do it another time?”

“No. Wren’s cousin is getting married. It’s… um… a bit of an emergency, if you know what I mean.”

He laughed. “Shotgun wedding?”

“Not entirely. They were planning to get married anyway. They had to change the date is all.”

“Ah. Gotcha. So that leaves you. Are you going too?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“Great! I mean… well, you know. Sorry. But now you can come to Atlanta.”

My first instinct was to decline, even though it was Leah. I was in a foul mood and didn’t want to be around people, much less people I actually liked.

Mark heard the hesitation in my silence. “Leah would love to see you.”

“I know, but—”

“Look, man,” he said reasonably, “come to Atlanta. Have fun with us.”

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin things for Leah.”

“Not possible. Come on down.”

“I really appreciate it, Mark, but I’m lousy company right now.”

“What’s the matter? Never mind. This is exactly what you need.”

I sighed.

“Listen, man, get away from whatever’s bothering you.”

“I don’t think that’ll work,” I said. The problem wasn’t Christy; it was me.

“All right,” Mark said, still reasonable, “then if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for Leah.”

“C’mon, Mark, that isn’t fair.”

“Of course not.”

“You aren’t going to stop until I say yes, are you?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“And if I’m still in a foul mood this weekend?”

“Then we gave it our best shot.”

I let the silence drag out.

“Look,” he said at last, quieter and less like a sales pitch, “I don’t know what you’re upset about, but nothing’s ever as bad as it seems.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, but I know how it is, man.” He waited and then went on, “Come to Atlanta. It’s a small party, just the four of us.”

“I dunno, Mark.”

“Leah would love to see you. So would I. Even Erin said she misses you.”

“Erin?”

“Your sister?” he teased. “About 5’4”, blonde, kinda looks like you, only prettier.”

I laughed in spite of myself.

“Whaddya say, man. Will you come?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

I wanted to avoid Christy until I left for Atlanta, but living in the same house made it almost impossible. I was working in my studio when she came to find me. I could tell it was her. I’d heard her come up the stairs and hesitate outside my door. I closed my sketchbook and waited for her to knock, which she eventually did.

“Come in.”

“It’s Christy,” she said through the closed door.

“I know.”

“Can I still come in?”

I tried not to smile. I wasn’t an ogre. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” She opened the door a crack and peeked around it.

“I won’t bite your head off.”

“Serve me right if you did.”

“Yeah, probably.”

She opened the door a bit further.

“So,” I said, as lightly as I could, “is this normal Christy or jump-to-conclusions Christy?”

“Um, normal… I hope.”

I nodded at the other chair. “Sit down?”

“D’you mind? Standing makes me feel like I’m in the Principal’s office.”

“You only go to the Principal’s office if you’ve done something wrong.”

She stopped halfway into the seat. “Maybe I’d better stand.”

“Sit down,” I said with a laugh.

“Thanks.”

I waited.

She fidgeted.

I looked at her expectantly.

She fidgeted some more.

I settled in for a long silence.

“I never know how to apologize…,” she said eventually.

“Maybe you should stop doing things you need to apologize for.”

She laughed, dark and humorless. “You sound like Nobu.”

I thought I sounded like Susan, which made me smile inside.

“I’m… sorry.” She took a deep breath and mustered the courage to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry I accused you of… you know.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to make me say it?”

“I’m not sure what you accused me of,” I said after a moment. “I mean, I know what you meant, but… what kind of person do you think I am?”

“A forgiving one?” she said hopefully.

“I am, but you need to understand something about me.” I tried to find a delicate way to put it. “I’m a guy, sure. And sometimes I think with the little head. But most of the time I use the big one.”

“I know.”

“In other words, I don’t think about sex all the time.”

“But I thought all guys…”

“We don’t. Then again, I’m not like all guys.”

“Tell me about it.” She digested that for a moment and then asked the question she’d been building up to. “Why did you draw me?”

“Not because I want to seduce you or anything. I did it ’cause…” I searched for the right word. “Well, because you inspired me.”

She blushed and looked at her hands. “It’s very flattering.”

“I didn’t do it to flatter you or anything like that.”

“I understand. Besides, if you had— I mean… Um…”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“Promise you won’t get upset?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Well… they weren’t very good.” My eyes must have bugged, because she hurriedly continued, “The sketches, I mean. Of me. The building was great! But the drawings of me…”

I laughed in a sudden release of tension.

“Sorry. I hope that doesn’t make you angry.”

“Not at all. I’m an architect, not an artist. And I’m definitely not as

talented as you.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her eyes but then looked up. “But you are. As talented. You just can’t draw.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh my gosh! I should stop talking. Of course you can draw. You’re awesome at… um… drawing.”

“Boy, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“I mean you’re awesome at drawing buildings and landscapes. Yours are just… amazing! But… you can’t draw people.”

“I never learned how.”

She looked at her hands and fidgeted again. “I could teach you.”

“Would you?”

“Yes. You’re really very talented. You just haven’t had the training.”

“Thank you.” I chuckled at a thought. “Then I accept. On both counts.”

“Both?”

“The apology and the offer. I accept both.”

Her smile lit up the room. “Awesome! We can start tomorrow.”

“What about Monday instead?”

The room seemed to darken.

“I’m going home for the weekend,” I explained.

It brightened again, but not as much as before.

“Oh, okay.” She mustered a smile. “So we’ll start Monday then.”

“Yep. Monday it is.”

Wren came upstairs a little while later. I silently grumbled that I’d need a waiting room for all my visitors. She pulled the door closed and sat in the empty chair.

“So,” she said without preamble, “Christy said she talked to you. She apologized?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“She was totally unfair.”

“I thought so too.”

“But… um… maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. “Lemme guess,” I said at last,

“you were matchmaking again?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Seriously? After I asked you not to?”

“Hear me out… I wasn’t trying to get her to go out with you or anything.

I was just telling her that you totally changed since last year, and—”

“Hold on a second. What d’you mean, ‘totally changed since last year’?”

“What?”

I repeated the question.

“Well, you know.”

“No. Enlighten me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You were a total horndog last year.”

“What!”

“Yeah. You nailed everything but the crack of dawn.” She talked over my glare. “You did! Daphne, Sara, Gracie, and a whole bunch of others whose names I don’t even know.”

“I never had sex with Sara,” I protested.

“Okay, but the list is still pretty long. And then there’s Leah.”

“She’s different.”

“I know. But—”

“She is.”

“All right! But I’m just sayin’, you slept with a lot of random women last year.”

I shot her a baleful look.

“Okay! Not Leah.”

“Not Daphne either.”

“Fine. But the others?”

“They weren’t random.”

“Then what were their names?”

I sighed in exasperation. “Tracy. And, um…”

She gestured impatiently.

“Lemme think!”

She let me flounder for a ten count. “See what I mean?”

“Fine, whatever. But why is my sex life anyone else’s business?”

“It isn’t, but…”

“But what?”

Her eyes searched mine. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Christy.” She sighed and debated whether to keep going. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” she said at last, “but she had a major crush on you

last year.”

That cut through my irritation. “For real?”

“Totally.”

“I had no clue.”

“Didn’t think so. And I didn’t tell you ’cause…” She shrugged. “She got over it. You were a total jerk and then… well… you sort of went off the deep end after you found out about Trip and me.”

I’d had good reason, I thought sulkily, even if it was selfish and immature.

“But I think she might still like you.”

“Why is my life so complicated?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem. Anyway, I’ve been telling Christy how you’ve changed.”

I waited for the other shoe to drop. “And…?”

“Well… I might’ve told her that you’re saving yourself for someone special.”

“Super,” I said sarcastically. “And lemme guess, she could be The One?”

Wren had the good sense to look chagrined.

“Thought so.” I took another deep breath and exhaled through my nose.

“You’ve been spending so much time with her lately. I thought it might be true.”

“I’m modeling for her! It’s nothing.”

“I know, but…” She leaned forward earnestly. “She’s really great, Paul. I know you’d like her if you gave her a chance! She’s per—”

“Stop,” I said. “Just… stop. I really, really don’t need you to fix me up.

Least of all with Christy. She’s more of a goody-goody than Kimberly. Aha!

Kimberly! Total prick-tease. Catholic, too. Uh-uh, no thanks!”

“Whatever. Christy’s—”

“Paige,” I blurted. “The other girl’s name was Paige. Huge hypocrite.

Said she was ‘saving herself for marriage,’ even though she— Well, you get the picture.”

“Christy isn’t like that.”

“I don’t care.”

“But you’d—”

“Wren, please! I asked you before. Please stop. I don’t need help finding a girlfriend. I don’t even want one at the moment.”

“But—”

“Quit! I know you mean well, but seriously! You aren’t in charge of my life.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“Then let me be happy by myself. I’ll find someone when I’m ready.

Okay?”

“Don’t be mad at Christy. It wasn’t her fault.”

“Fine. I’ll blame you next time she says she doesn’t want to sleep with me. Fair enough?”

“Yes. But if it makes you feel any better, I think—”

“Stop! I don’t wanna know. Sorry. Just leave it alone.”

“Okay.”

“Listen,” I said to lighten the mood, “I appreciate the thought. I really do.

But I don’t need help in the relationship department. I’m fine the way I am, alone.”

She put her hand on mine and squeezed. “Are you sure? I know you haven’t… you know, had sex. Not since camp. You must be…”

“I’m fine. I jerk off twice a day. I swear.”

“Twice a day? You’re probably serious.” She rolled her eyes when she saw my expression.

“Hey,” I spread my hands, “a guy has needs.”

She laughed but then turned serious. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. And thanks. But I’m pretty happy now.”

“Okay. Well. I’m sorry I started this whole mess.”

I nodded amiably.

“Now, I’d better get downstairs and start on dinner, or you’re going to tease me about having to order pizza.”

“What, you didn’t like my tuna flambé?”

“Flambé is an actual cooking technique. What you did is called incineration. That poor casserole. Disgusting!”

“Stank up the house too.”

“God! Don’t remind me. It was awful.” She stood and planted a kiss on my head.

She genuinely cared about me, which made it hard to stay irritated.

“I’ll stop matchmaking,” she said. “I swear.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you know me too well.”