Arlene the Artist's Arc

Chapter 3 of 5

Arlene took the schedule home and put it on the kitchen table. She read the circled line four times. Adult beginners. Saturday at ten. She had six days. She had never taught anyone anything in her life. By Tuesday morning she still had a blank page. She had written "Week One" at the top and then stopped. She thought of Claire driving an hour to sit in an empty room and smile at her paintings. She thought of Claire watching her fumble in front of strangers. That was worse than the empty room. That was the one thing worse. She put on her coat and walked to the library. The small yellow building had been there since she was a child. The woman at the desk pointed her to the back shelves without asking questions. Arlene pulled down every book on teaching art she could find. Six weeks of adult beginners. Color mixing. Value. Simple still life. She copied exercises into a notebook until her hand cramped. She borrowed four books and carried them home under her arm. On Wednesday she walked past the old schoolhouse on her way back from the shop. The bell tower caught the light. She stopped on the path and watched it. Claire had taught her in a room not much bigger than that one. Claire had put a pear on a table and told the class to look at it for ten minutes before touching a pencil. Arlene wrote that down on the back of her grocery list. By Friday night she had a plan. Week one: look before you draw. A pear on a plate. Pencil only. She practiced saying it out loud in the kitchen. Her voice sounded thin. She said it again. She stacked the borrowed books by the door so she would not forget them. Saturday she arrived at the community center at nine thirty. Claire was already there, setting out newsprint pads. She looked up and grinned. "You came." "I have a pear," Arlene said. She pulled it from her bag and set it on the table. "And a plan." Claire laughed. "Show me." Arlene opened the notebook. Claire read down the page, nodding. At the bottom she tapped the line about looking for ten minutes before drawing. "That's mine," Claire said. "I know." "Good. Steal the ones that work." Claire handed her a piece of chalk. "They come in at ten. You take the first half." At ten past ten, seven adults sat on folding chairs in front of Arlene. A man with paint on his knuckles. A woman older than Claire. Two teenagers who looked at the floor. Arlene set the pear on the table. Her hands shook once and then stopped. "Don't draw yet," she said. "Just look." The woman older than Claire smiled at the pear. Arlene saw it. She kept teaching.