Girl Next Door Read online

  She was so passionate about the subject and it fascinated me to no end listening to her take on artists, styles, and mediums. But I could feel the undercurrents of longing when she discussed much of it. Most art was behind glass or ropes and people were not allowed to touch them. This brought to the forefront of my mind something that I have been thinking about since yesterday. God did I wish she could experience the art she longed for, from the masters.

  I said, “Excuse me for a moment, please. My bladder is about to burst.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nice.”

  I stood and put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a little squeeze as I made my way to the restroom. As soon as I was in the corridor I grabbed my cellphone and dialed my aunt. She answered with her always warm and compassionate, “What? Who is this? It better be friggin' good!”

  I giggled and said, “Its me, Brandye, Aunt Missy.”

  Her harsh tone suddenly became soft, something she reserved exclusively for me, she even kept her signature terse attitude with Lessa because “She can take it.” “What a pleasant surprise. Sorry, I couldn't make the housewarming yesterday sweetie. I had that exhibit to set up at the gallery. Did Penny give you my gift?”

  I had to grin. “Yes auntie, she did. Thank you so much. Those pots and pans are gorgeous and they'll do much better than the skillet and pot I bought at the supermarket the other day.”

  Then she chuckled. “Ooooo there's that tone of, 'but I have a favor to ask.' What can I do for you sweetie?”

  I giggled again, she knew me well. “Well, I was just wondering if you still had that latest exhibit from Mia Jacobs at the gallery, you know the one with those four sculptures? And also if there was any way you could get me in contact with her?”

  She replied, “Yes it is still there, and I'm sure the spazzy freak would have no problem speaking to you. I'll give her a call and call you back. Love you lots sweetie.”

  I smiled and said, “Love you too aunt Missy. You rock!”

  I hung up and stood there smiling and looking at my phone for a second. I don't know why she pretends to be so abrasive and politically incorrect all the time. Everyone can see right through her. It is all just an act because she doesn't want anyone to get close to her, she doesn't want to let anyone in. One day I hope she can feel comfortable enough to tell me what had happened in the past that made her that way.

  I made my way back to Robin. I grinned at the sleepy Daisy on the floor by my chair. After I sat, we slipped quickly into our sharing and banter mode that was so comfortable with this fascinating blonde.

  When we finally started gathering our things to go, Mrs. Z puttered over. “Thanks for coming girls. It was nice meeting you Robin. Drop by anytime.” I was digging in my purse for my wallet, and Mrs. Z shook her head as she laid a hand on my arm. “Please, don't insult me Brandye, your money is no good here.”

  I nodded and relaxed. “Thank you Mrs. Zatta. It was delicious.” She smiled and I retrieved Daisy's leash and stuffed my happy and groggy, well fed puppy into my bag. I smiled at the woman with her grandmotherly demeanor. She is always giving free meals to people she likes, I'm amazed she doesn’t go broke. But it did feel like coming to visit with family, with that favorite aunt that always has something cooking in the kitchen. Though I'm not sure if my aunt Missy knows how to cook.

  We said our goodbyes and made our way outside and into the crowded market again. I had to grin. Daisy wasn't looking out of the bag. I knew with a full belly of warm food she was most likely curled in for a nap. I almost felt the same way but I wanted to have some more fun with Robin!

  I convinced her to walk down to the docks below to take a ferry ride. She agreed on one condition. “Tell me about orange.”

  We talked as we walked. As we passed under the viaduct, Robin's tone changed, to one with an undercurrent of pain. “I hear there is a Mia Jacobs mural down here somewhere.”

  I glanced back over to big brick building with the amazing mural that covered one wall, it is always one of my favorite things about Pike Place. I nodded and said, “Yes, it is just over there. And I tilted the arm she was holding toward it.”

  She said, “I hear it is quite stunning.”

  I asked slowly, “Do you want... me to describe it?” She simply nodded once, so I stopped at a bench by the road and sat us down. I looked back at the mural and took a deep breath, thinking about how best to describe it.

  Then I began. “Well first off, as you probably already know, it covers an entire building and is constructed with discarded hubcaps. It depicts a beautiful young woman with flowing hair, who is looking up into the sun when viewed at at distance. It is like a silver photograph, yet when you get up close, all you can see are the hubcaps that it is comprised of. It is all about perspective. Like the difference between smelling fresh baked bread, and tasting it, or feeling the soft warmth of it in your hands. It is one thing at one point and another at a different point, but it becomes part of what makes it whole... into something you can't quite define. That is how all of Mia Jacobs art is and why she is such a modern art genius.”

  I took a breath as she was looking up into the sky as I spoke. I continued, “I could go on and on about how the color and graceful lines of the mural would be like the smooth feel of polished metal beneath your fingertips, or a refreshing gulp of cold water on a hot summer day. But that would be a disservice to what I really see. It is actually warmer than the sun when I look at it because of what is really there. There is something in the way that young woman is portrayed that screams one word louder than anything else. It is a something you can feel. It looks like... like how love should feel. I don't know how she could catch such a vibrant emotion in such a crude medium, but that is what I see when I look at it. This mural is love.”

  A tear rolled down Robin's smiling face as she gazed sightlessly into the sky. Her voice was husky as she said, “Thank you.”

  I smiled and reached over and wiped the tear from her cheek. “Let's go ride a ferry.” She just nodded with a smile and took my arm with both hands this time and I led her to the docks.

  We had a great time on the ferry. The wind in her hair on the observation deck made her look so... wow. More and more often, she would have me describe what I was seeing and would tell me things from her perspective. I asked her why and she said, “Nobody had taken the time to describe things to me the way you do. You make everything sound so... beautiful.”

  I shrugged. “For the most part everything is. There are some ugly things in the world I wish I couldn't see. Like heartache, violence, decay, sickness. But most of my parents friends have shown me to look where most people don't and you can find beauty in almost everything. I think that is what inspired me to get into art. I'm not a classical artist like you, I don't have that ability, but my graphical art can afford me tiny glimpses into your world.”

  She shrugged and just hugged my arm and laid her head on my shoulder cutely and changed the subject. “I love the feel of the breeze on my face as we move through the water.” I just smiled and rested a hand on hers as she held my arm. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the breeze with her. Ocean spray tickling my skin. I was acutely aware of our contact, but it only made me feel warm inside.

  After the ferry ride, we walked back and got into the car, then she said, “Let me show you something.” I agreed and she pulled out her phone, she held the home button and it dinged and she said, “Address for Seattle Alternative Art Museum.”

  The phone rattled out an address and she turned to me with a smile. “You get that Bran?”

  I grinned. “Yes ma'am.” I punched it into my GPS and off we went. Near the Zoo, we pulled up to a huge Victorian House that had been converted into some sort of gallery. Daisy was refreshed so she walked beside us when when got out of the car.

  Robin snapped out her cane and dragged me to the front doors of the gorgeous building. We entered the heavy oak doors with stained glass windows and we went up to an admission window. Robin chirped out, “Two please.
”

  The extremely heavyset man behind the counter slid two passes and two headsets to us and said, “Fifteen.” Before I could react, Robin was in her wallet and handed him a bill that was folded both lengthwise and by width... a twenty. The man slid back a five that was already folded lengthwise. This got me wondering a couple things. One, they must be used to blind patrons here and two, that there must be some sort of universal folding standard for different denominations of bills. I found myself wanting to learn more as she slid her change back into her wallet.

  She handed me a headset as she put one on herself. She pulled me through the second set of doors and a woman standing in there in an usher's uniform took our passes and asked if we needed to be guided. Robin grinned and nudged her head toward me. “No, but thanks, she's sighted.” Then she placed a hand on a rope that was threaded through a series of free standing, ornately carved, brass posts.

  A few steps in, following the rope, and a pleasant sounding male voice voice started up on the headset, “Welcome to the Seattle Alternative Art Museum, our exhibits from all around the world are tailored for the visually impaired. We encourage you to touch all of our exhibits to experience them fully. There are sighted assistants at each exhibit who can guide you, or direct you to services like restrooms or our souvenir shop. We hope you have a pleasant experience here and visit often as our exhibits change regularly.”

  We came to an area with a finely crafted marble statue of a roman woman in a flowing toga, she had a basket overflowing with fruit. There was a man in a museum uniform standing unobtrusively off to one side.

  As we stepped across a line on the ground the voice was on the headset again. Describing the exhibit as a representation of Athena by a German artist, Hans Eichel. It made note of the extraordinary smooth lines he could create with his chisel, and encouraged us to feel the natural flow of his workmanship.

  I put Daisy in my bag and she poked her head out. Then Robin grabbed my hand and reached out with her other and moved it until she found the statue, then she put our hands on it. I watched in fascination as she allowed her fingers to examine every nook and cranny of the statue's face.

  The generic description of the statue played on the headset. When it was done, I watched as Robin experienced the art as she walked around it with her hands constantly in motion, it was mesmerizing. I followed her hands with my own. Closing my eyes from time to time to see if I could understand what she was feeling.

  When the voice finished, she looked over the statue in my direction and whispered almost inaudibly, “Tell me.” I smiled and started describing the beautiful statue. I blushed as I saw the man grinning as I described it to Robin.

  This continued for three more exhibits, she had me describe them after the narrator did, while she examined the art with her hands. Then she tried to physically pull me past the fifth exhibit without stopping. I pulled her to a stop. I whispered, “Oh my god.” I had a huge smile on my face and she had a blush on hers.

  I giggled as I pulled her across the line on the floor and the voice started up, “Here we have 'Sunshine' by Robin Hartford. Her unique style of contoured tactile painting has had the art community sitting up and taking notice for the past few years. Place your hands in the upper left side of the canvas and run them along the raised flowing stroke to the lower right. You can feel the...” and it went on describing her style in cold, clinical terms. It deserved better than that.

  I marveled at it, it looked... I don't know, warm and inviting with her signature single black swooping stroke surrounded by colorful bursts in an almost random pattern. She must choose her colors from what people describe her subjects with. This one had was all yellows and warm orange highlights.

  A hot hand was on mine and she whispered, her hot breath in my ear causing goosebumps to rush down my neck. “Close your eyes.” I did. I was acutely aware of her lavender scent as she reached our hands up and placed mine on her canvas. Then as with the painting she gifted to me, the black swoop guided my hand as she slowly drug my hand along it.

  The textures felt directional, like they were guiding my hand down. Near the bottom the subtle and gentle textures played on my fingers almost like a kitten's fur or a fleece blanket. I smiled as it gave me a warm feeling... like sunshine. Or was it just Robin's proximity and our contact. I really didn't care which, since whatever it was, it made me sigh.

  I kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “It's amazing Goldilocks.” She seemed to freeze up for a moment then relax.

  She grinned and said, “Good, now lets go to the next exhibit before I get even more embarrassed.” There were only two more exhibits and we found ourselves back at the front by following the rope.

  As we were handing in our headsets I said, “That's it? There weren't many exhibits.”

  She nodded sadly. “I know, but there aren't many artists that want people touching their work. That leaves what is available spread pretty thin across the world in accessible museums and galleries like this. I can't imagine all the wonders I miss out on. I have to settle for descriptions. And I love your descriptions, nobody else has played to my other senses with their descriptions before, it actually evokes emotion with them. You have a gift. You really need to pursue your book... the study of the masters.”

  I blushed then we made our way back to the car. Once we were on our way back home I said, “I have a quick stop to make on the way home.”

  We stopped at a pet store and picked up a small pet door. I called Less. “Hi, I bought a dog door for Daisy and am heading home. Which end of the hammer do I use to install it? Or does duct tape work?”

  She snorted and said, “Message received. On our way. Devon will bring his power tools. Tay is over, we'll drag him along and those two can grunt like cavemen while we gossip.”

  I grinned and squeaked out, “K... love you sis.”

  She replied, “Love your sorry ass too. See ya in a few.”

  Chapter 7 – The Ward

  That night I got a call that made my heart almost stop. A woman, who was stuttering in a sweet voice as she spoke to me, introduced herself, “H-hello Brandye, this is Mia Jacobs. That good f-for nothing M-Missy told me that you wanted to speak w-with me.”

  Aaaaahhhhh! Oh my god! Mia Jacobs! Oh shush, it isn't every day you get to speak with a legend. No, my mothers don't count... or their friends... or June's parents... fine whatever. Mia is a personal hero of mine. Anyway, Mia was enthusiastic about the evil scheme I came up with and admitted that she had never thought of the points I brought up and she would have to make some changes. She said she would have something ready for me by the coming weekend.

  I made sure that Robin was free next Saturday. She said, “I'm pretty sure I'll be hanging with that weird neighbor girl and her dog.” This just made me giggle, which made her smile warmly. I had already admitted to myself that I had a crush on her. But I'd never act on it, because all relationships end. I wouldn't want anything to be awkward between us. She had already wormed her way into the best-friend position.

  My mind just kept dwelling on the fact that Robin would never get her dream to experience the art of the masters. Something had to be done about that... but what? I started thinking about assembling my book of the art masters with proper descriptions again. Hmmm... I need to start on a project soon that will be my final in my senior year... then it hit me. Oh!

  The next couple days were busy. The boys had installed the dog door in no time. Now I didn't feel bad leaving Daisy at home when I went out to do things, it took moments for her to master the pet door and lay claim to the entire back yard as Daisy-opolis. When I was at school Robin took her, I swear Daisy bonded more with her than me. Her training was coming along well.

  Between school, and work, and visiting into the wee hours of the night with Robin every night, I was exhausted. But I loved every single moment I could get with Robin. Then heap onto that, my late night calls with Lessa. I needed a clone.

  Wednesday rolled along and I was overly excited. To
night I get to drag Robin along with me to the children's wards for the Callahan Foundation. I don't know why but it was really important for me to share all the facets of my life with her. There was someone there I wanted to meet her.

  I arrived home and parked the car in the garage and hopped over the infrared light thingy as the door closed and from Robin's porch I heard, “Go get her Daisy.” I met Daisy half way across the yard and scooped her up and tickled her belly before putting her back down and making my way up to Robin's porch.

  I said, “Wow. A work of art.”

  She scrunched up her face and said, “I just started...”

  I said playfully, “Who says I was talking about the painting.” I flopped into a cushioned wicker chair on the porch. Daisy made a mighty leap and just barely made it into my lap and curled in.

  My smiling blonde blushed, which looked awesome on her face and said, “You're going to give me a complex Bran.”

  She cleaned her brush then sat down in the chair next to me, her hand drifted over the little glass table with the wicker base between the chairs and I absently took it. I looked out over the lawn and to mine that was getting much too long now. “I need to get my lawn mowed. You got the number for the kid that does yours?”

  She just nodded and closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of spring air. I grinned and followed suit. “So, you ready for tonight? We should hurry, we'll only get a short time since visiting hours end at six.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath and let go of my hand and stood. “Then let's get crackin' shall we?”

  She grabbed her canvas and supplies and said, “See you in fifteen?”

  I nodded, and said, “Sounds good.” I placed Daisy on the porch and stood up and walked down the steps, again admiring her porch. Daisy raced me to our door. The moment we disappeared inside she went darting into the kitchen and out into “her” yard. I had to giggle.