Saturday, August 16, 2003
Rose walked out to the mailbox. It was about nine o’clock in the morning and the mail had arrived early, as it usually did on Saturdays. It was already hot, the temperature promising to be over a hundred.
Rose smiled to herself, pulling the stack of envelopes, magazines, and papers from the mailbox. In spite of the heat, she was content. Things had improved drastically since Jack had had his brain surgery, and, despite their slight uneasiness with each other, life was good.
Jack had made a full recovery and would be returning to work on Monday. He was also talking about returning to college as soon as the new semester started, though the others were trying to talk him out of it. To be sure, he had only completed six units, since he had been unable to complete the spring semester due to his injuries, but no one wanted to see him have a relapse.
Rose, for her part, was planning upon attending Masline City College when the new semester started. Part of it had been destroyed in the earthquake, but the buildings had been put together with earthquake safety in mind and there were enough left standing for classes to be held. Some classes, according to the newspaper, would be held at other locations, including Windsor High School, from which Rose had graduated a little over a year earlier.
Rose couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of going back to high school, even if it was to take college classes. She couldn’t return to Elias University. She didn’t have the money and didn’t really want to go back anyway. Mari and Michelle would be there, but Rose was heading in a different direction.
She didn’t know what she wanted to major in. Cal had insisted upon business, but Rose really hadn’t enjoyed that subject and wanted to try something else. Community college was the perfect place to do so. She didn’t have much money, as much of what she earned went into rent, food, and other necessities, but she had two scholarships that had been awarded to her at the end of high school that she had never used, since Cal had paid her way at Elias University. She had also learned from Jack that her low income the previous year and her independent status, as she was no longer living with her mother, would probably qualify her for fee waivers, leaving only the cost of books, supplies, and parking to be dealt with—though the cost of those was frequently higher than the cost of tuition at a community college. Jack had qualified for fee waivers from the start and still would, for the time being.
Rose walked back into the house, sorting through the mail and placing it in stacks according to who it was addressed to. General junk mail she set in the middle of the table in case someone wanted to look at it.
A catalogue from Masline City College was included, so after setting her mail aside, Rose sat down to look at it. She could only take night and weekend classes, since she worked during the day, but community colleges were designed to accommodate working students, so there were plenty of such classes available.
Looking through the catalogue, she tried to decide what to take. There were so many intriguing things that it was hard to choose. She had many interests in life and would have liked to explore them all. But since there were limits to what she had the time and money for, she looked at the ones that interested her most.
She loved music, but she didn’t have an instrument to practice on and she didn’t have the money to rent or buy one. Her mother had a piano, which Rose had learned to play when she was a child, but she wouldn’t ask Ruth for the use of the piano. She had too much pride, and more than likely Ruth would turn her down anyway.
She had always loved singing, even singing for the whole church on occasion and in musicals and chorus in high school, but she doubted she was really all that good at it, considering Jack’s reaction the last time she had tried singing at home. Involuntarily, her hand went to her shoulder, remembering how he had hit her. The bruise had long since healed, and she knew that he hadn’t meant to hit her, but she wasn’t eager to try singing again. For some reason, Jack’s hitting her had bothered her more than Cal’s had, possibly because she had trusted Jack, but she had never quite trusted Cal. Things were better now, but the memory still bothered her.
Sighing, Rose turned from the section on music to something else that interested her—political science. She smiled. Politics had always interested her, even when she was a child. She remembered how annoyed her mother had gotten when Rose had read the newspaper and then asked questions about everything. Her father had been more tolerant, answering her questions and trying to explain why things worked the way they did. As soon as she was old enough, Rose had registered to vote and had taken a great deal of interest in political organizations on campus, though she had never actually had the time to join any of them.
Nodding to herself, Rose filled out the form inside the catalogue, putting Introduction to Political Science on the list of classes she wanted to take. She thought she could handle three of them, so she began looking for something else to enroll in.
Rose had just added a recent U.S. history class to the list and was perusing the selection of art history classes when Jack walked in from the backyard, his portfolio in his hand. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat down at the table to see what Rose was up to.
"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at the catalogue.
"I’m signing up for classes for the fall semester at Masline City College."
"I need to do that, too."
"Jack...are you sure that’s such a good idea? Maybe you should take things easy for a while."
"I need to continue my education, and I never did get to finish last semester since I got hurt. I thought a little bit about taking summer classes, but it just didn’t seem worth it."
"You were probably too sick for them, anyway."
"Probably."
There was silence for a moment. Then Rose looked at Jack’s portfolio and asked, "What have you been drawing?"
In response, he opened the portfolio and showed her a newly drawn picture of one of their neighbors, an eighty-year-old woman who lived catty-corner behind them. Isadora Juarez spent every morning, rain or shine, working in her garden, dressed in a flowing caftan, sandals, and an oversized straw hat. Her yard was the envy of those around her, constantly filled with green grass, flowers, vegetable plants, and fruit trees. Jack had drawn her digging in the dark, rich soil, kneeling under a carefully pruned apple tree loaded with fruit almost ready for picking. She was smiling, carefully placing small pots of flowers in the soil. Jack had captured her perfectly.
"This is beautiful," Rose commented. "It’s Mrs. Juarez to the life."
"She certainly does some good work," Jack replied. "Her yard is a work of art in itself. Look at the way she’s arranging those flowers around the tree, kind of like a circle leading you to it."
Rose smiled. She had recognized Jack’s interest in the various symbols and the way he liked to add them to his artwork. But he was right. Mrs. Juarez’s yard was a work of art.
"When are you going to sketch me?" she asked him, handing back the drawing.
"Sketch you?"
"Yes. Remember when you tried to give me your portfolio, and I told you that it would be better if you made a drawing of me instead? I said I would pose for you, and I still want to."
He looked a little surprised, but nodded. "I can sketch you any time you like." He looked at the work he had already done that day. "I’m kind of on a roll here. How about now?"
Rose was a bit surprised, but nodded. "Now sounds good, before anyone else comes home."
"Why before anyone else comes home?" They were the only ones there. Tommy worked on Saturday mornings, and Helga was away visiting her parents in Anaheim and wouldn’t be back until evening.
"Jack, do you remember those drawings you made of Helga—sans clothing?"
He nodded again, wondering what she was getting at.
"I want you to draw me like that."
"You?" Jack looked a bit flustered.
"Why not? I don’t look that bad, do I?"
"Well, no...but...I just never thought you’d want to be drawn that way."
"I have no problem with it, and it’s not as if you haven’t already seen me unclothed."
He blushed at that, then smiled. "All right. Where do you want to pose?"
"How about on the living room couch? It’s the best place in the house, and it’s too hot to go outside. Besides, the neighbors might see if we did this out in the yard."
"Good point. Okay, you go get ready. I’ll get the art supplies ready."
Rose hurried down to her room and undressed, putting on just her light summer robe. Thinking for a moment, she pulled a locked metal box from a shelf on her closet and sorted through it, coming up with the sapphire and diamond pendant Cal had given to her. Clutching the necklace in one hand, she walked out to the living room, where Jack had his art supplies spread out across an old folding table, facing the couch. The lamp beside the couch was turned on and set in such a way that it would highlight Rose’s face when she lay down.
"There is one thing that I want to wear," she told him, holding out the necklace.
"Wow…that’s nice. Where did you get it?"
"Cal gave it to me. He said that it was a birthday present, but he gave to me early, as a peace offering, after that morning when he…when I wound up in the hospital with a concussion. He brought me this, saying that he went too far."
"I’ll agree," Jack told her. Too far was an understatement.
"I didn’t want it. I had liked it when I saw it in a store window, but when he gave it to me it seemed like nothing more than an expensive decoration for an expensive possession. If I’d been able to buy it myself, it would have been different, but…"
"Is it real?"
Rose nodded. "Real sapphire, real diamonds, real fourteen carat gold. Only the best for his favorite punching bag."
"Are you sure you want to wear this?"
Rose was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Positive. It’s not the necklace I dislike, it’s Cal. I’d rather create a pleasant memory with this thing than always remember it as a symbol of what he did to me that day."
"Okay." Jack watched as Rose fastened the chain around her neck. When she removed her robe and draped it over a chair, he stared for a moment, eyes wide.
"Uh...over there. On the bed—the—the couch."
Rose smiled, suppressing a laugh at his words. It was obvious that drawing her wasn’t the only thing on his mind. She settled onto the couch.
"Tell me when it looks right." She moved her arms, trying to find a good pose.
"Wait. Put your arm back up like that. Right. That looks good."
Rose watched him as he began to sketch her. His face was intense, concentrating on his work, but the look in his eyes when he would look back at her told her that his mind was not entirely on drawing. She suppressed a smile, realizing that hers wasn’t either.
She couldn’t help but remember the last time she had posed for him, on that afternoon in May. Though the drawing had been far less intimate—she had been fully clothed, and they had been out in the open—there had been a bonding between them that day that had been more than physical. It had been a bonding of spirits as well. She remembered how they had "flown" on the cliff, and how they had kissed for the first time. There had been no awkwardness; it had seemed natural and right. The drawing had been a part of that, capturing her soul, capturing the way that she felt beyond all the pain of the previous two weeks. It had been a time of healing, and the haunted look had vanished from her eyes by the time it was done.
Afterwards, they had raced down the hill together, laughing, and Rose had accompanied Jack into the house, feeling more relaxed and comfortable than she had in a long time. When she had followed him to his room, she had been certain that what she was doing was right, an expression of her love for him. Even when he had embraced her too tightly, putting pressure on her cracked ribs, she had still trusted him, knowing that he hadn’t meant to hurt her, knowing that he hadn’t known what had happened. When at last she had broken down and told him what had happened that horrible morning, he had taken her in his arms, holding her as she wept in misery and trying to convince her that she hadn’t done anything to deserve what had happened to her.
Rose had been humiliated to admit that she had been raped, but afterward she had felt as though a great weight had been lifted. She had felt immeasurably better, no longer holding the pain inside. She remembered Jack’s surprised expression when she had insisted that she still wanted to make love, even after what she had told him. And they had. Jack had been gentle with her, mindful of the fact that she was injured, but passionate nonetheless. And when it was over, they had lain snuggled together, arms wrapped around each other, basking in the warm aftermath, neither wanting to move.
Rose looked up as Jack put the finishing touches on the drawing, blowing away the dust. Rising from the couch, she put her robe back on and came over to the table to see it.
"It’s beautiful, Jack," she murmured, viewing the drawing. She looked relaxed and languid, the sapphire pendant nestled at her throat, a half-smile on her face. Jack handed the drawing to her and she kissed him, giggling, then glanced at the clock.
"I’d better go get dressed," she told him, "before Tommy comes home and gets another shock."
Jack laughed, remembering when Tommy had walked in to find them in bed together. "Two shocks in one year. I don’t know if his heart can take it."
Rose laughed, taking the drawing and hurrying down to her room to get dressed again and put away the necklace.
Rose was almost finished dressing when she heard Tommy come in the front door. Quickly putting on her sandals, she hurried out to greet him.
"Hey, Tommy," she greeted him, walking into the kitchen. Jack had cleaned up his art supplies and was sitting at the table, looking at the college catalogue.
"Hi," Tommy greeted her, before turning to Jack. "You’re not really thinking of going back to college so soon, are you?"
"Yes, I am," Jack told him.
"You just got out of the hospital a week ago, you’re going back to work on Monday, and the semester starts on Wednesday," Tommy pointed out, looking at the cover of the catalogue.
"I can handle it."
"But can we? I don’t want you to have a relapse," Rose told him, sitting down next to him and looking at the catalogue. "Remember what Dr. Patel said about taking it easy for a while?"
"I really need to start working on my degree again."
"Why don’t you take just one class?" Tommy suggested. "Something that you’re interested in."
"Well..." Jack was a bit reluctant.
"Why don’t we take something together?" Rose suggested. "I was thinking of taking art history this semester. Have you taken that yet?"
"I tried to take it last semester, but I didn’t complete it."
"It’s being held on Thursday nights at seven on campus. The instructor is George Peck."
"I had him last semester. He really knows his stuff."
"Then why don’t you take that one again? You already know a lot, and you’d probably enjoy it. You might even already have the textbook."
Jack considered this for a moment. He did need to repeat the class.
"All right. I’ll take that one. Were you going to take it, too?"
"I was thinking of it."
"If you take it, I’ll pay for the parking permit, and I’ll share the old book with you, or split the cost of a new one if they’ve changed it. We can take the class together."
Rose nodded. "That sounds good. Textbooks are always too expensive."
"I paid over a hundred dollars for three textbooks last semester—and it would have been more if I hadn’t bought them used from Amazon.com. I’m just lucky I had my fees waived."
"Cal paid for mine all last year, but they still seemed expensive."
"The cost of textbooks would give Bill Gates a heart attack."
Rose laughed. "Maybe we can add something to the art history," she remarked, then blushed at her own comment. Jack turned red, too, and Tommy looked at them like they were both crazy.
"I’m sure I don’t want to know," he muttered, heading into the living room and turning on the television.
Jack started laughing, and after a moment Rose joined him, both feeling more comfortable with each other than they had since Jack had gotten hurt.