NEW IMPRESSIONS
Chapter Eight

Jack pushed the scan button on the car radio hoping to get a traffic report. It didn’t take much to tie up the roads in the Bay area and this morning’s fog, coupled with the rush hour, could easily turn this trip to the airport into a nightmare. He wanted to be sure that he had as much information as possible before he hit the freeways. The rush hour gridlock was the only thing he hated about living here and once in awhile it made him long for the back roads of Chippewa county. At least he was fortunate that with his job on the campus, he could walk to work. It was only when he had some errand into downtown San Francisco that he had to venture out onto the overcrowded roads.

He yawned and took a sip of coffee from his insulated mug. The project he had been working on all night had obsessed him and when he had looked at his watch it had been four in the morning. He had slept on the living room couch until 6:30 when Rose had called to tell him that her mother’s flight was coming in at ten instead of 8:40. He had fallen back asleep for another few minutes and realized that he had to get ready. Rose had told him to pick her up at 8:30 so that they would have enough time to make the forty-five minute trip to the airport and still have time to park and get to the gate.

A quick shower and the coffee had awakened him somewhat, but he was still struggling against the fatigue and the gloom of this Friday morning. Meeting Rose’s mother in such a frame of mind was far from an ideal condition, but he had no choice and sometimes he wondered if Rose might be exaggerating about her mother’s behavior at times. That was not uncommon. How many sweet and loving parents of his friends had he met that had been described to him as overbearing and nosy? It would be interesting to finally meet this woman. Rose was both protective of her mother as well as highly critical. And he guessed that the real Ruth was somewhere in between. A glance down at the clock on the dash told him that in only an hour and twenty-five minutes he would see for himself. And then no matter what he thought of the real Ruth Dewitt-Bukater, he would be spending plenty of time with her this weekend because of Rose’s birthday, which was tomorrow.

He turned onto Rose’s street and stopped in front of her building. She usually was prompt and had promised him that she would be watching, so she could come right out. But a two minute wait turned into ten and as Jack saw the time ticking away, his impatience grew, knowing the each precious second would make the traffic only worse.

Finally he saw the door open and Rose came out. On this dreary morning, he had to admit that she looked like a misplaced butterfly in her bright pink summer shift and matching cardigan. Usually when he picked her up, she was smiling and looked carefree. This morning though, her forehead was puckered with worry and her mouth was turned downward in a nervous expression.

She slid into the seat beside him and carefully latched her seat belt. From behind the cascade of red curls that hid one side of her face, she murmured a soft good morning.

"That’s all you have to say today?" asked Jack. Even in his somewhat sour mood, he would have appreciated a warmer greeting from her. A more studied look at Rose, revealed dark circles under her eyes as well. "Didn’t sleep good?"

Rose sighed heavily and folded her hands in her lap. There was a haughty, unbecoming demeanor about her, something he had never witnessed before. "No, I did not sleep good. And everything that could possibly go wrong has happened." Jack half listened, while concentrating on the traffic. The saga of the torn sheet for her sofa bed, the string of phone calls from her mother last night and early this morning, and the noisy party next door that kept her from sleeping were things that under normal circumstances would not have affected Rose this way.

After hearing that the tollbooths on the Bay Bridge were backed up for ten minutes and that several lanes on the Bayshore Freeway were closed due to construction, Jack had decided to go the long way to the airport. It was about 23 miles from Berkeley to the airport, but that would have led them through the heaviest downtown traffic. It would be about 8 miles longer to go the back way, but he was certain that there were be fewer obstacles along the way. The only problem along the I-880 was some congestion at the Oakland airport exit. The rest of the way to the San Mateo Bridge and then up the 101, sounded fairly wide open.

He heard Rose groan softly and cast an eye at the radio. "Is that all we are going to listen to this morning? I mean, how many times can a person listen to the news and weather over and over again. Wouldn’t once or twice be enough?"

Jack reached for the volume dial and turned it down. "I’m sorry. I just wanted to stay on top of the traffic. I didn’t think you wanted to be late to meet your mother." It seemed that there was no pleasing Rose this morning. If this was the effect that her mother was going to have on her each time she visited, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

They rode along in silence for awhile. Rose half-heartedly looking at the scenery as they passed the exits for Alameda, San Leandro and San Lorenzo. It was not long after that she spotted the sign that said SFO Via San Mateo Bridge Exit 2 miles.

"Oh, God, Jack. I wish she weren’t even coming. She always makes me feel so miserable and she criticizes me from top to bottom twenty four/seven. Sometimes I think it would be better if she stayed up in Seattle and we just wrote to each other." Rose took a deep breath and focused in on Jack, searching for some kind of reaction from him, some word of support.

He reached for his coffee cup and took a long swig of the lukewarm liquid as the traffic slowed down momentarily. "Rose, how can you say that? You should be grateful that you even have a parent that cares enough so come and see you on your birthday. I know lots of people whose parents never even bother to send a card and vice versa. You have to give her credit for something."

Rose put her head down and pretended to study her hands. Jack was right of course, thinking of him with no parents. He just had never spoken to her in quite that way before. She knew that her mother cared. It was just all of the other baggage that came with her mother. That she was successful in business was a given. And she never had to be ashamed as to how Ruth would be dressed. She remembered over the last few years the tearful nights when Ruth had received some insulting piece of correspondence from her father. That was when Rose had truly felt sorry for her and hoped that someday she would be happy again. Until Ruth started into one of her tirades of what and was not appropriate for Rose to do.

"Oh, I give her credit all right. And I even feel sorry for her sometimes. She just does not know when to stop with me. It’s either when we are on the phone or together that she just can’t stop trying to make me over."

Jack stopped short as the Camaro next to them, tried to cut them off. He growled to himself and mumbled about the morning commute drivers.

"Jack, if this is too much for you, I could have done this myself. Then I wouldn’t have to hear all this fuss about the traffic." She looked over at him and their eyes met briefly. This morning she did not see that penetrating stare that either melted her or drove her mad. Just a look of painful tiredness.

"Rose, I am not complaining about doing this. I’m just tired. That’s all."

"Well, you knew we had to get an early start. Why didn’t you go to bed?" She saw a serious look on his face. The usually jovial and fun-loving Jack seemed to be absent this morning.

Jack stared straight ahead at the long line of traffic heading for the toll bridge. He certainly was not going to reveal to her what he had been working on. "I just got started with a project and I forgot the time. I’m a grownup Rose. I knew I had to get up. But things just got away from me. That’s all."

Rose let the topic of his bedtime go and she watched Jack whose hands firmly gripped the leather wheel. She felt totally alone. He seemed totally oblivious to the anxiety she was feeling with her mother coming and he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, not even able to give her a comforting word.

"Jack, you don’t know what my mother can be like. She can pick me apart for no reason at all. From my skirts being too short to the kinds of classes I am taking. And if that weren’t enough she asks far to many questions about my social life. Sometimes I wonder if she trusts me at all. I swear it would make her totally happy to keep watch on me all the time. I see her name on the caller ID all the time."

"I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm, Rose. You are all she has. She is only looking out for your best interests." His innocent reply started a raging fire of anger in Rose and all she could picture now was her overly concerned mother making criticizing comments as soon as she got off the plane. Embarrassing her in front of Jack.

By now, Jack had reached the end of his patience and could not control the last comment that slipped out of his mouth. "Rose, the traffic is bad enough without having to listen to this continuous diatribe about your mother and her faults."

Her eyes squeezed tightly together as she fought to control the tears that threatened to spew forth. She was outraged at his remarks and insulted that he seemed to have no comforting words for her as he usually did.

"You don’t know what it is like to have to report in to her about everything," she said, the pitch of her voice rising. "How can you possibly understand when all the time you’ve been at school, you had no one checking on you." She looked away, knowing that what she had said would hurt him. And that had been why she said it, but immediately after, Rose regretted her choice of words.

He turned to her, his eyes now more steely gray than blue. His hands on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles were almost white. She saw the side of his mouth twitch. And when he looked at her there was an infinite sadness in his face. His sarcastic reply cut right into her heart. "Thank you very much for reminding me of that."

Rose leaned against the headrest, her eyes staring blankly out the side window. Since Jack had turned the radio off and he had no more to say there was nothing but silence in the car. Only an occasional horn and booming from another car’s sound system. Rose kept wiping away the torrent of tears that flowed down her face. Never had she imagined Jack and herself getting into this kind of situation. But this morning she had seen a whole new side of him. Not that she had been so cheery and full of sunshine herself. And she could kick herself for making that remark about him not having anyone to check in with. That was just plain cruel, but she had not been able to help herself. It was just that she had expected at least a little support from him. She swallowed hard and her mouth felt dry from nervousness. Wondering how her reunion with her mother would go in the miserable mood she was in and what was going to happen with Jack. Her shoulders tensed as she felt the awkward silence close in around her.

Jack tapped the side of the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, watching helplessly as Rose sat turned away from him. How could she have been so thoughtless as to remind him once again that he had no family, no parents to share his joys with him. He knew that she probably was scared and nervous and he had not had the decency to offer one kind word. After all these years of living alone, he’d forgotten how cranky he could be when going without sleep. He carefully cast his eyes to the side to see what Rose was doing and as he did that he sensed that she saw him and quickly turned again in the other direction. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks red. Black mascara ran down her face and the lipstick she had started out with just a half-hour ago was long gone. All because of him. "God, Dawson, when are you going to learn. You should have told her right away how tired you were and how that sometimes makes you say things you don’t mean." Apparently Rose had much the same problem and she was no better at dealing with it than he was. Maybe they were more alike than they previously thought.

As they passed each car on the San Mateo Bridge, the wind lifted Jack’s hair and sent Rose’s curls billowing out the window. He made the transition from the bridge road to route 101 with little difficulty. The sun was now starting to break through the clouds and behind him in the side mirror he was just able to glimpse a few planes in the air as they lined up for the final approach to SFO. He pulled the ticket from the parking lot machine and followed the signs for Terminal F where the shuttle flight from Seattle would arrive. His eyes darted once again to Rose. Her face was totally hidden and wondered if that cascade of coppery hair hung that way so as to purposely conceal her face.

Very unobtrusively, Rose glanced at her watch. Mother’s flight was due to arrive in 25 minutes. They still had to park, go through security and get to the gate. Maybe they would get there in time since it usually took an extra ten to fifteen minutes to complete the taxi from the runway to the gate. "They," she thought. She wondered now if Jack would even come with her. Rose toyed with the idea of telling Jack just to go home and go by cab with her mother back to her apartment. It would take a bit of explaining, but the mood that existed now between her and Jack would take even more. Ruth would be leery enough of Jack as it was. She watched nervously as Jack circled the ramp of the parking structure as she tried to decide what to so. With relatively little difficulty, Jack found a space near the elevators leading to the terminal. When he stopped and put the car in park, she reached for her seat belt, but instead of the cool metal, she came in contact with a warm hand.

Jack drew in a deep breath. Someone had to put a stop to this insanity that had gone on this morning. And though it was painful to be the first one to speak, he knew he had to. Maybe this was a lesson that two people in love had to learn. To gracefully swallow their pride. He had waited to catch Rose off guard and then grabbed for her hand. At his first touch she tried to jerk away, but he was stronger than her and refused to let go. It took a couple of seconds before he found his voice and then just blurted out what was on his mind. "Rosie? Just where do you think you are going?"

Rose felt a shudder go through her body. Rosie. He had used that special name for her. He kept her hands in a viselike grip. Somehow she knew that she was going to have to face him now. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"Rosie, look at me." His voice was firm, but there was none of the malice in it that she had heard earlier. She was afraid to meet his eyes, but she did raise her head a little to acknowledge that she had heard him. Staring straight ahead, she was afraid to hear what he had to say.

Jack’s breathing was uneven now. To tell the truth he was scared. "Rose, let me just get this out. Will you listen?" He saw her nod silently. "I am sorry Rose. I had no right to say the things I did. I was up all night working on something very special. And please don’t ask what." He sighed and hoped that she would indeed not ask any questions, for he so wanted that to stay a genuine surprise. But there was no other way to explain why he had not been able to sleep, why he had been so cranky.

Rose felt his fingers gently intertwine with hers, mystified now about Jack’s secret project.

"It was my own fault that I didn’t go to bed and I should have told you, warned you that I get this way with no sleep." He paused for a second to see if she would respond in any way. She continued to sit motionless. "I love you, Rose. I just want to say one thing though. Someday, if we have a daughter and she is half as beautiful as you are, I might be a little picky like your mother is about who she gets involved with. Can you understand that?"

She gasped lightly and bit her lip. He had talked about them having children, indicating that he still wanted a future with her. Those few words gave her the courage to visually confront him. Slowly she raised her head. She slipped one of her hands out of his, the grip he held her in loosening and with it pushed the hair from her face. When she saw Jack’s eyes, she knew how sorry he was. The deep blue of them shone with the light of sincerity and honesty. His forehead was lifted, giving him a hopeful expression. Rose knew that she still owed him some words of apology as well. It was partly, if not fully due to her, that this had gotten so out of control.

She cast her eyes downward and her voice was almost a whisper as she spoke. "I love you too Jack. I shouldn’t have gone on so much. It’s all my fault. And I was ready to kick myself when I said those things about you not understanding about having to…" She was silenced as Jack laid his fingers across her lips.

"Shh, Rose. It’s no one’s fault. These things just happen." With the edge of his thumb, he gently rubbed away the traces of her tears and the smeared eye makeup. "We can’t have you looking like this when we greet your mother. Lord knows what she will think of me then."

Rose sniffled and then laughed softly. Her mouth started to curve into a smile and she watched as his eyes began to sparkle with mischief. Gone were the remnants of that sadness Rose had seen floating across his face earlier. She felt the guilt leaving her and for the first time this morning, she began to relax. "What are you up to now, Jack?"

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes momentarily. When he looked back at her, he had nothing to say at first. He started to plant tiny kisses on her forehead, then her nose and over her eyes. Rose’s nose twitched from the tickling feeling that she was experiencing. Jack lifted her hair in his hands and pulled her close to him. "I can’t guarantee Rose that something like this won’t happen again, but I can promise you one thing."

"What’s that?" She brought her hands around his neck, stretching to reach, since she was still confined by the seat belt.

Jack listened to her throaty, seductive voice murmuring words of love as she returned his kisses. "Well, the making up part will get better and better. That I can promise." She smiled as she heard the click of the latch and she felt herself drawn closer into Jack’s embrace. "Another thing, Rose."

"Hmm?" She nuzzled against Jack’s chest, lured into contentment by the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

"If we are going to meet anymore of these early morning flights, I think we should take a room at the airport hotel. Would save us a lot of trouble and sure would be more comfortable."

Rose giggled softly and shivered at the sensation of running her fingers through Jack’s hair. "Jack Dawson, I do believe you are the most outrageous man I have ever met." She reached out and flipped down the mirror on the visor to check on her appearance. That her makeup was gone seemed inconsequential compared to what else she saw in that reflection. There behind her was Jack. His shimmering blue eyes, calm now. Filling her with looks of his love and admiration. His smile assuring her that all was well and everything would be fine.

"Don’t worry, Rosie. You look beautiful." He pulled the key out of the ignition and set the parking brake. "Come on, after all of this, we don’t want to be late."

*************

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to San Francisco International Airport where the local time is 10:06. We will be taxiing for a few moments and we request that you keep your…"

Ruth shoved the in flight magazine back in the seat back pocket. Her fingers flew to her hair, hoping that her French twist was still as neat and tidy as it had been when she left home. She looked down on the floor to examine her navy pumps. The tiny gold buckle across the top twinkled as the plane turned and the sun came in her window. "Who am I worried about impressing anyway," she thought. Her mind was filled with images of artists, dressed as the leftover Flower Children of her youth or that mangy backpack cult that wore ripped jeans and dog chains as jewelry. And as if their mode of dress were not enough to drive her mad, she recalled that the lives of even famous painters were somewhat out of the ordinary. Drugs, mistresses and even self-mutilation were often de rigeur for that culture.

Ruth picked at a small piece of lint on her navy linen suit, her perfectly manicured fingers and gold bracelet catching her eye. When she had looked at herself in the mirror this morning, she saw what she wanted to see. The quintessential professional woman. That is what she wanted so much for Rose too. With her degree that she would obtain in journalism, she could go anywhere, from being an editor at a prestigious publishing house to a media correspondent. And now with this news of the artist boyfriend, she cringed at the thought of Rose drifting aimlessly in a low level coffeehouse society.

Ruth glanced around the half empty plane thinking about how much easier it would be to get off today without the usual stampede of passengers running for connections or off to make business calls. The lack of passengers had brought Ruth one unexpected benefit. There was little for the cabin crew to do and one young flight attendant who had guessed that Ruth had something on her mind, had taken the next seat and tried to coax the problems from Ruth. At first it had been hard. Ruth had never been one to share the things that bothered her. Her mother had been rather introverted and now after her own disastrous marriage, she had a hard time trusting people. Ruth really only confided in Rose with the personal aspects of her life, and even then not all the time. In her heart she knew that she should give Rose more credit for doing all the right things as well. Rose loved her. She knew that, but she seemed to take some perverse pleasure in teasing and tormenting her.

Gina, the flight attendant, was an earthy young woman, easy going and friendly. Having grown up on a Texas ranch, she had learned responsibility early and friendliness on the lonesome plains had been a necessary art to cultivate. She treated Ruth now more like an older sister rather than a person old enough to be her mother. Without Ruth realizing what was happening, she was soon pouring her heart out to this genuine young woman and felt some relief at doing so. When she had asked Gina quite honestly whether or not Rose was making a mistake in getting involved with an artist, her answer had been plain and simple. "Well, ma’am, there’s artists and then there’s artists. Just like there’s truck drivers and then there’s truck drivers." Ruth had frowned at her common sense explanation not really understanding what she meant. In Gina’s translation she told her that people of one trade couldn’t all be put in the same box. She went on to say that she knew truckers who had a hard time stringing two words together and others who had college degrees but drove the open road for the pure love of it. Same thing with artists, she said. Probably some of them were as Ruth had imagined, but reminded Ruth of artists like Grandma Moses and Norman Rockwell who were just common folks. In her own way, Gina had a solution for Ruth’s dilemma. She offered to get off the plane first and pretend to check on something at the gate podium, giving a good look around to see who was waiting for inbound passengers. That way, if things did not look good, Ruth would have fair warning.

A soft ding and the unison click of the unbuckling seat belts sent a tremor of uncertainly through Ruth. Only a few minutes now separated Ruth from seeing Rose and the artist. And what she saw then would set the stage for the kind of weekend she would have. She reached up and grabbed her black leather carry on and a slick looking shopping bag from an upscale Seattle department store. Gina had just walked by, winking at Ruth, as she ambled towards the Jetway to see what lie ahead.

Rose quickly put a tube of lipstick back in her purse and ran her tongue across her mouth, nervously moistening her lips. She glanced back at Jack, as if to get his approval on her appearance. All she felt was a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and a kiss against her hair. His soft whisper in her ear set her trembling with excitement.

"Moment of truth Rose. After this the ice will be broken. It’ll be all right. Trust me."

"I trust you, Jack." Taking a deep breath, she leaned back against his solid torso. She watched the gate agent open the door to the Jetway and waited for the stream of passengers that would soon follow. An energetic flight attendant was the first one out the door and she moved quickly to the counter. After flipping through a few pieces of paper, she glanced around the gate area, her eyes stopping for several seconds on Jack and herself. With a big smile on her face and a wave of her hand, she turned and rushed back on the plane.

"Do you know her?" Jack positioned himself at Rose’s side, his arm still draped firmly across her shoulders.

"No, kind of odd, isn’t it." Rose let it go at that, knowing that airline people tried to be friendly in these times of constant passenger complaints. "Oh, Jack, she’ll be here any second. I feel so nervous."

Looking down at her he saw uneasiness written all over her face. "Remember, Rose, I’m right here. Nothing can happen." His arm moved down around her waist and he pulled her tightly towards him.

Ruth stood just outside the aircraft door waiting nervously for Gina to return. As the girl walked rapidly down the ramp, Ruth noticed a huge smile on her face. She winked at Ruth as she got closer. Above the din of machinery and jet engines, she had to wait until she was right in front of Ruth to speak. "I’ll tell you one thing, honey. If your daughter doesn’t want him, you just send him my way. Mark my words if you aren’t sorry that you are not about twenty years younger."

Her jaw dropped at that remark. But there was no time for more conversation. Gina was wanted on the plane and Ruth saw that she was in the way where she stood. There was only one way out of this and so she squared her shoulders, gripped her bags tightly and marched up the ramp to the terminal.

With every step that she took up the carpeted walkway, Ruth tried to breathe slowly and deliberately, trying to get a grip on her wildly swinging emotions. One side of her said that Rose was a sensible girl and knew what she was doing. The other was convinced that her daughter would only be too happy to find an unsuitable boyfriend, just to get a rise out of her mother.

She was close to the open doorway of the gate now and she could see hurried passengers dashing here and there along the long concourse. Scratchy announcements on the loud speakers and squalling babies added to the confusion that already reigned supreme in her mind. Gina had told her not to worry, but then who knew her taste in men.

With her eyes down, Ruth took the last few steps. When the pathway in front of her was blocked by some luggage, she was forced to look up. Her eyes roamed around the waiting area and at last she found Rose, focusing on her at first. Her bright summer dress and red tresses set her apart from the throng of rushing people. She saw Rose smile at her and raise her hand to acknowledge that she had been seen. Then as she closed the distance between them she forced herself to look at the sight she had been dreading. Starting from the ground up, she saw neat khaki slacks and a black polo shirt. A man’s hand rested possessively at her daughter’s waist. A wide, tanned hand that led up the arm of a slender body. With only a few feet left, she was taken in by a pair of electric blue eyes. Their expression so steady and welcoming that she felt her nervousness begin to disappear. She looked into the face of Rose’s friend. Jack, was that the name? She couldn’t remember. An honest, sincere smile greeted her from beneath well-cut blond hair that was partially covered by a pair of designer sunglasses.

Ruth started to set her bags down, only to have the man take them for her. She wrapped her arms around Rose, happy to be here at last with her only child. "Oh, Rose. Darling. Happy Birthday. I am so glad to be here."

"Yes, Mother. Me too. I am glad to see you." Rose got a glimpse of Jack as he stood behind Ruth, nodding and smiling, giving her the courage to go on. "Mother," she said, detaching herself from Ruth’s arms. "Mother, I’d like you to meet someone. This is…"

"Jack, Jack Dawson. Nice to meet you." Jack reached his free hand out to Ruth’s. He tried hard not to stare at Rose’s mother too obviously. She was an attractive woman, and he could see how much Rose took after her. Ruth was meticulously turned out in a navy suit and unscuffed matching shoes. Her body language bespoke of her self-assurance in her appearance and demeanor. But the look in her green eyes also told him that behind the facade was a woman who was also insecure and had suffered a great deal of unhappiness. "I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Ruth." He chose to skip the Mrs. part and the five syllable last name. And he hoped that might help bring down the barrier that he was certain Ruth had already tried to build between the two of them. "Rose and I both have been looking forward to this weekend."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Daw...ah, Jack. I’m glad to meet you as well." Ruth stood transfixed, forgetting that Jack still held her hand. This was the artist? The lowlife she had imagined? She recalled that on the phone he had sounded so well spoken. And this was the same person. She recognized the voice and the same name.

Rose bit her lip, fighting back a smile. Jack was sending out enough charm waves to tame Attila the Hun himself. Was that sufficient though to impress her mother? Ruth had never liked any of Rose’s other boyfriends. But then that was exactly what they had been. Boys. Immature, boys who lacked the polished demeanor of Jack. Undoubtedly Ruth had been expecting another one of those.

The three of them stood in awkward silence for a moment. "Mother, I think we should go and get your luggage, don’t you?" Rose was anxious for her mother to get to know Jack more and this bustling terminal was not the place.

"Ah yes, dear. Really, Jack. I could carry those," offered Ruth. She half-heartedly reached for her belongings.

"No. I insist." He gestured to Ruth to move on in the direction of the baggage claim. He took Rose’s hand and fell in place beside her.

From the corner of her eye Ruth saw how their bodies seemed to blend together as they walked side by side. They looked like they not only belonged together, but possessed each other as well. Seeing the two of them in this impersonal setting reminded her of what the flight attendant had said. "I think poor Gina is out of luck. This looks to me like something more than a friendship." She had to find out more about Jack, of course. But in the back of her detail-oriented mind, words like invitations and flowers started to float around. "I just get the feeling that he is no ordinary artist. To quote Gina, ‘there are artists and then there are artists.’"

Chapter Nine
Stories