18
Maddie
Icouldn’t keep myself from going to the art show. I kept trying to tell myself that it was about me, that I had spent all these months working on accepting and falling in love with my body and that seeing everyone’s drawings of me was part of that process. But was that really true? Deep down, underneath all my bravado about my body love, all I could think about was Luke. Would he be there? Would his family be there? Did he tell them about the class? Or did I screw that up for him too?
The day of the exhibition, Delores offered to do my hair. I never really let anyone do my hair. It was kinda my thing. But, I thought being cared for would help me feel less alone.It didn’t. As soon as I leaned back into the sink and felt her fingers massage my scalp, I was crying. Delores didn’t say anything. She just kept going. Scrubbing and rinsing until it was clean and wet. She wrapped my head in a towel like the Queen of Sheba and when I stood up, she hugged me.
“I’m not gonna push,” she said. “But you are not alone, Maddie.”
I didn’t say anything at first. I wanted to. I walked to Delores’s chair and sat. She started by brushing out my hair. I watched her move around me, her eyebrows drawn together in concern, gently pulling and combing, eradicating knots.
“I miss him,” I said.
Delores didn’t look shocked that I spoke. She took a breath and said, “I’m betting he misses you too. No, I know he does. That boy is grumpin’ all over town.”
“I love him,” I said.
“Funny way of showing it,” Delores joked, no judgement in the comment. She turned on the blow-dryer and picked up a round brush.
“I’m protecting him,” I said, not making eye contact. Everything about the choices I made felt like they didn’t fit. The last couple of weeks without Luke were dark. I had no appetite. I couldn’t sleep, and if I did sleep, I woke up looking for him. It was like my soul was shrinking.
“From you?” she asked, not breaking the rhythm of straightening my hair.
I nodded. Then, my eyes welled up.
She paused, letting the dryer flop loosely in her hand, “What’s wrong with you?” Her voice was sweet and kind and still incredulous, like I was maybe a little stupid.
“I can’t have babies.” It took all the trust in the world to say these words out loud to Delores. I had only ever told this to Claire and Luke. This was my secret. I hated it. I hated that I broke myself, that I let my parents break me. It was this big ugly rotten scar that I constantly tried to throw a tarp over and drop in a well. Only, it came back. Every time I tried to push it away, it came back. And now, it was taking Luke from me.
“So?” Delores quipped. “What does that have to do with you and Luke?”
I stuttered, “He... I... I can’t take that from him.”
“First of all, that’s his decision. And secondly, he’d be lucky to not have babies with you. I’m overstepping now, but maybe you should talk to him? See how he feels about all this? I’m going to stand behind you whatever you do, but I think that boy loves you more than imaginary future babies.”
I shrugged, “Will you come with me tonight, Delores?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” She smiled. “But just so you know, if your tits look better than mine, I’m docking your pay.”
* * *
I pulledopen the door to the gallery. It wasn’t really a gallery. It was more like an art exhibition space attached to the library but they called it the gallery. I was wearing my boots and a little red summer dress that had tiny white hearts printed all over it. It had puff sleeves and a low neckline. I looked sexy and sweet in it. Delores had made my hair look good, it was bouncy long curls, similar to if I’d done it myself, only different, and somehow, that felt fresh and fun. After talking to Delores, I was hoping that Luke would be here. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but I thought she was right, I needed to talk to him.
The set-up was what you might expect from a college. A table with a white table cloth was by the door, with fruit and cheese platters that looked like someone picked them up at Albertsons and oversized bottles of wine that were self-serve, using little clear plastic cocktail glasses. Delores and I each poured ourselves a glass—red for me, white for her.
“Ready to see what you look like nude?” Delores asked.
A brunette in the corner caught my eye. She looked familiar, but I didn’t know her and as soon as she saw me see her, she looked away and then turned and ran off in the other direction. I was so nervous about Luke that I hadn’t fully considered how other people were going to react to me as the nude model.
There were three rooms. We started in the one closest to us. Rufus was standing in the center of the room. I said hello and introduced him to Delores.
“Madison was an exemplary model,” Rufus said to Delores. “Very professional. It shows in the drawings.” He walked us over to one on the far wall, “Like this one.”
The drawing we approached was of my hand and only my hand. Delores put her hand over her mouth and giggled.
Rufus’s head quirked at her. With his stuffiest voice, he said, “Can I ask why you think this is funny?”
“It’s not,” Delores said around her giggles. “It’s just not what I was expecting.”
Rufus turned to me. “She was expecting my boobs,” I said calmly and Delores cracked up.
Rufus blushed. “Well, not to worry, miss. I think you’ll find that Maddie is depicted from head to toe. And if full nudes are to your liking, there is a particularly lovely drawing in the last room.”
“Should I be nervous?” I asked him.
Rufus smiled, something I hadn’t really seen him do before, and said, “No, I think you’ll be delighted.”
When he walked away, Delores said to me, “That guy is a little weird. Thinks he’s important, amiright?”
I nodded. “I don’t think he’s bad though. Just stuffy.” We walked into the second room and Anthony was standing in the corner by what I supposed were his drawings. His sister was there too.
He called me, “Maddie!” and I strode towards him. “I’m so excited for you to see these. What do you think?”
Anthony had two pieces in the show. One was a still life of flowers in a vase. It was detailed and well-executed, definitely something he could be proud of. The second drawing was of me. It was from early on in the semester when I was still draped. Anthony’s angle was from over my left shoulder. He had drawn my face in profile and I was absolutely peaceful looking. Calm, still, and yet very much alive. I looked happy.
“This is beautiful,” Delores said.
“It is,” I echoed.
Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, “You really like it?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’m starting to get it now,” Delores said. “The way they see you helps you to re-envision yourself.”
I shrugged, “That was the idea.”
“Maybe I should model. Do you think I’m the type?” Delores asked no one in particular.