Arlene the Artist's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Friday came slow. Arlene opened the gallery at five, set out a tray of cheap crackers, and straightened the sign on the sidewalk one more time. The bold letters caught the last of the sun. She went inside and waited. Six o'clock passed. Six thirty. She stood near the door so she could see anyone who slowed on the walk. A few people passed without looking. The woman from the shop did not come. Arlene sat down on the folding chair by the coat rack and told herself she was not surprised. She had left the paintings facing out this time. That had been the mistake. At ten past seven the door opened. Arlene stood too fast. It was not the stranger. The woman in the doorway wore a yellow coat spotted with paint and round black glasses that were too big for her face. Reddish hair stuck up in every direction. Arlene knew her before she spoke. Claire Pemberton had been her art teacher in the last year of school, the one who had told a shy fifteen-year-old that her landscapes were worth framing. Arlene had not seen her in a decade. "You painted the meadow one," Claire said. She was already past Arlene, walking toward the wall. She stopped in front of the largest canvas and put both hands in her coat pockets. "That's the field behind the school. You painted it from memory." Arlene's throat tightened. "You remember the school field." "I remember every field you ever gave me." Claire turned. Her eyes went wet behind the glasses, then she blinked it off and grinned. "I saw the sign yesterday. I drove an hour." Arlene did not know what to do with her hands. "There was supposed to be a woman. She said she'd come." "She didn't?" "No." Claire looked around the empty room, at the crackers, at the seventeen paintings hung straight and even. She did not say she was sorry. She walked to the next canvas instead, and the next, and stopped in front of each one long enough that Arlene could see her looking. At the small one near the back — a cottage in rain — Claire laughed out loud. "You got better," she said. "I hoped you would." Arlene sat back down on the folding chair because her legs would not hold her. She had wanted a stranger to smile. She had gotten someone who already knew what her work was for. It was not the same thing. It was not nothing. Claire came and sat beside her. She pulled a folded paper from her coat pocket and set it on Arlene's knee. It was a class schedule from the community center, six weeks of Saturday sessions, adult beginners. One line was circled in red pen. "I need a second teacher," Claire said. "Starts next week. You'd be paid." Arlene looked at the circled line. The gallery was still empty behind them. The offer sat on her knee, waiting for an answer she had not planned to give.