Ah, Hell
Chapter 10
Looking Out For You
"Aren't you gonna ask me about Trent, Sis?"
Daria buried her head under her pillow while still managing to keep the phone against her ear. "As in do I want to know what he's doing while I'm away?"
"Don't you trust your boyfriend?"
"It's not him, it's the women that think he's a sexy, available guy that I don't trust." Her stomach began to feel a little weird. "He's going to forget about me."
"Hel-lo?"
Daria was amazed that she could hear her sister's eyeroll over the phone.
"Listen, Sis, you're being a ninny." Quinn paused. "I know what that means, but where did that word come from anyway?"
"Short form of nincompoop."
"That's exactly what you're being, a nincompoop. Hey, that's better than ninny."
"Look, Quinn, I appreciate that you're calling to see how I'm doing, but it's early Saturday morning, and I had a long lesson with Trent last night."
"You mean you had a lesson with him and cybersex afterwards. Boy, Daria, you can be loud!"
"You HEARD us? He had headphones on, and-" Daria facepalmed. "Funny, Quinn." She held the phone away from her ear until the laughter died down.
"Sorry, I figured that was why he always locks himself in his room when you guys do the lessons. Paul and I were downstairs watching TV and didn't hear a thing, honest."
"Stop laughing, it's not funny," Daria groused, fighting to keep a smile from sneaking across her face. "Okay, it's funny, but dammit, once a month is not enough!"
"Once a month, all day long. Boo hoo, Sis," snickered Quinn.
"Jerk," sighed Daria. "Your boyfriend is right there."
"Look, Sis, he's behaving himself," Quinn went on after calming herself. "He knows Paul and I will kick his ass into next year if he does something stupid. Besides, he's not going to forget about you. You should see the Daria reliquary in the studio. It's very unprofessional, but it is cute. Check your email, I sent you a pic."
"You could have just messaged-"
"You need to see it on a larger screen. Go on, look now. It'll make you feel better."
"Fine, but it better be worth it." Daria threw off the covers and padded over to her desk. Quinn fell silent, waiting for it.
"What the hell?" Daria gaped at the screen. Apparently, it had started with one of Jane's paintings of her reading, which was in the center of the screen. Photos had been added, along with an enlarged scan of her business card, a copy of her grades, and a complex assortment of ephemera that looked suspiciously like it was supplied by a certain dark-haired artist down the hall. Trent had added a little shelf in front, upon which rested a Cornell box that Daria knew for certain that Jane had made- a rude little composition featuring Trent's lucky guitar pick and what appeared to be a guitar somehow made out of a thong. Flanking it were several votive candles, with the whole composition framed by an odd tubular frame that somehow looked like giant chewed pencils.
"You still think he's gonna forget about you?" laughed Quinn.
"That's not my thong. I don't have one."
"He said he was going to give it to you but he chickened out."
"Smart boy. Wait, did you say that this is in the STUDIO? How big is it?"
"About five feet, two inches tall," giggled Quinn. "The candles were Stephanie's first contribution. She's quite your little fan. She even made another little version of this in a glass-fronted box, built around a photo of you with your guitar. She talked Jamie into putting it on the wall as an art piece at the music store."
"She sounds like a younger version of Jane," smiled Daria.
"She wields a pretty wicked hot glue gun and digital camera. Yesterday she told me that I'm really lucky to have a sister like you."
"You're the one that gave Steph my email address. She sends me intel on Trent at least once a week."
Quinn laughed. "She's so cute. She thinks you and Trent are the perfect couple."
"Hold still, Daria."
"How long does it take to paint my ass?"
"It's a very cute ass. I have to do it justice. Trent will love this."
"I know one day I'll live to regret this. Did you have to take all those photos? And speaking of those, why am I still here anyway freezing my butt off?"
"You're not freezing, it's August. Anyway, I've got to finish before the birthday boy shows up this weekend."
"You better not make my ass too big."
"Daria," Jane sighed, pausing. "What is with this negative self –image of yours? I don't get it at all. You're a pretty woman, and you know Trent only sees that as a bonus. He loves you for who you are inside, where it counts." She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, I sound like Doctor Phil."
Daria said nothing for a long moment.
"What are you calling this painting?"
"Horny Girlfriend Giving Up and Going to Sleep," smiled Jane. "OW!" She bent down and retrieved the apple. "Hey, I was going to eat this. You know, I can still make your ass big."
"What are you calling this, really? You know it's going to be included in a posthumous exhibition of your work."
"Reclining Muse with Guitar," Jane managed around a mouthful of fruit. "So answer my question. Why do you put yourself down? I mean, you've gotten more comfortable in your own skin, but every so often you slide back into insecurity. I remember how even back when we were in high school, you knew you could look as good as Quinn, but you always chose not to."
Daria sat up, covering her breasts with her arms.
"I guess it's because back then I had nothing but my self-respect to lose." She looked around for her clothing. "Can I get dressed now?"
"Sure. I'll just use my imagination. Want me to turn around?"
"No, it's fine. Not like you haven't seen everything there is to see."
Jane watched the play of light and color across Daria's skin as she dressed, noting the coolness of the shadows and the warm flush as her muscles flexed, pulling her favorite shirt over her hair.
"Physical attraction only lasts for so long, but for some reason it feels like we can't seem to remember that sometimes. Every so often I wonder if I could really compete with some of those women that find Trent as attractive as I do. I love him for who I learned he really was, but I can't seem to find that border between the attraction of my body and my… soul."
"Daria, you wouldn't find him so attractive if it was just physical. He's a good looking guy, I guess, but I have to think that because he's my brother. That's not what made your brain disengage from your mouth when you were sixteen. You felt an attraction that went beyond his looks and even his personality back then. Eventually your rational side buried it, but you were feeling a connection to his soul even back then. So did he, but it took him a little while to figure it out."
Daria said nothing. Leaving her socks and shoes on the floor, she walked around to Jane's side of the easel, expecting to be scolded for looking before it was finished.
Instead, Jane stepped aside so she could get a good look at this work in progress. "I'm not into this representational style, but I think I like this anyway." She watched as Daria took in the painting, wondering what was going on in that brain.
She stood there, lips slightly parted, hardly breathing. "Really? This is what you see?"
Jane followed her gaze, finding it centered on the eyes of the woman in the painting. Bright brown eyes, looking back over the left shoulder at the viewer. A corner of the mouth was visible, turned very slightly and hesitantly up, but clearly expressing a deep longing about to be fulfilled. The shoulders were delicate and narrow, the right arm partly extended and obscured by the cascade of auburn hair.
The back curved gently in repose; the bedcovers pushed aside. The hips and figure were petite and unmistakably feminine. Sheets of musical manuscript paper were scattered, and an open journal rested on a chair in the background. The left hand was resting on the side of a guitar, which the figure was curled up to.
"It's beautiful, Jane," she murmured quietly. "Thank you."
She studied it in silence for a long time, and slowly she began to smirk.
"What exactly is the muse doing with that guitar?"
Jane edged towards the door before answering.
"Making a ukulele?"