Part Five
Just then Quinn stepped past Jane and laid a hand on Daria's arm "Daria, Tom's coming!" she whispered.
Daria looked down the corridor where Quinn was discreetly pointing, and sure enough, there was Tom, slowly browsing towards them. She thought of what he would probably think when he saw the painting. She thought of what he might say when he saw the painting. She thought of the possible conversations that might ensue if he saw the painting and her standing here next to it, and she realized that she did not wish to participate in any of those possible conversations.
Daria quickly left the corridor and moved back into the room the way she had come, with Jane on her heels. They circled around a large potted plant at the left side of the doorway and took up a position on the other side of it. A second later, Quinn stepped through the doorway, conversing in low tones with one of her friends who remained in the corridor.
Quinn looked over at Daria. "He's alone," she said, then looked back into the corridor again, then back. "He's just looking. Doesn't seem to be hunting for anything in particular." As Daria and Jane watched from the cover of the potted plant, Quinn backed a little further into the room, then took up a position on the right side of the door. She looked toward them again and whispered "He's close."
Daria waited, looking at Jane, then back at Quinn, then casually about the room, trying to look like she wasn't playing hide-and-go-seek. Quinn peered through the door and grinned, then turned towards Daria and mimed big, bulging eyes and a stunned expression. Daria and Jane grinned back. Quinn backed farther from the door. Suddenly Daria was startled by a loud thumping noise that seemed to come from just on the other side of the wall she stood against. She looked over to Quinn, who could evidently see what was going on. The thumping became repetitive. Quinn pointed to someone or something in the corridor on the other side of the wall, and then at her forehead, looking highly amused. Then they heard a matronly voice from the corridor saying, "Sir, I must ask you not to beat your head on the wall." Smirking, Daria slipped away, leaving her ex-boyfriend alone with his thoughts of what might have been.
~*~
Daria made her way out the doors of the museum. Looking up at the starry sky overhead, she inhaled deeply of the fresher night air. Dimly illuminated by the small floodlights lighting the steps, a face turned toward her, then back away. It was the face of Charles Ruttheimer, who had been sitting on the bottom end of one of the balustrades. A short silence ensued, which Daria felt compelled to break.
"That was nice, what you said about me to those jocks in there, Charles."
Momentarily shocked to receive a compliment from any girl, much less Daria, Charles managed to collect his wits. "It was just the truth, or what I believed was the truth."
Another short silence followed, then Daria said, "It was pretty close. Strange that you saw it when almost no one else did."
Charles looked down at his hands, clasped on one knee. "Maybe not all that strange, Daria. I think you and I are somewhat alike in that way. I used my 'Upchuck' persona as a 'moron repellent', as it were, to discourage interaction with dumb people, sort of the way you used that, um, singular outfit and your remarkable talent for sarcasm." He sighed and looked up at the sky. "It seems I overdid it, though. There were a few girls, you first among them, who I really wanted to get to know better."
Daria was surprised at the note of genuine sadness and wistfulness in his voice. "Maybe we both overdid it. After I met Jane, I pretty much quit trying to make other friends for a while. Having a friend was so great, compared to having no friends..." embarrassed at her unintended candor, she let the sentence trail off incomplete.
"NO friends? I find that hard to imagine. Did your father run a lighthouse on an island or something?"
Daria chuckled bitterly. "I wish. That would have been so much nicer than Highland, Texas."
"You mean there exists an American community that would not fall at the feet of one as beautiful, charming and brilliant as yourself?"
Daria made a face. "You're doing it again."
"But I assure you, lovely lady, I am entirely sincere."
"If you are, that makes me even more uncomfortable. You know I don't like being judged by my physical appearance. Besides, I was neither beautiful nor charming in Highland, and you know as well as I do that popularity is inversely related to intellect."
He sighed. "Sad but true. But I was just trying the best I know how to be polite and chivalrous."
"I sort of thought as much, although it's hard to tell with you. When you're trying to be Upchuck you sound like an early James Bond novel, or Mike Hammer. When you're trying to be charming, you do courtly, and it sounds like imitation Arthurian Legend. You need to just be yourself."
Charles smiled ruefully. "Easier said than done. We're all products of our experiences, and I don't have any experience talking to ladies and not being run off. That's why I tried to borrow from literature."
"Well, just talk to a girl like you talk to your friend or your cousin or whoever."
He shrugged and smiled ruefully. "Like I said..."
"You don't have any sisters? No female cousins? No..."
Charles shook his head slowly.
"Oh." Damn, she thought, he's as bad off as I was in Highland. Poor suffering bastard.
He seemed to make a decision, then looked back up the steps at her. "Uh, Daria, I was going into the city Friday to the library, and maybe a couple of bookstores. Would you like to come with me?"
Not bad, she thought. Not smarmy at all. "Well, I do have some books I need to return, but they're due Thursday."
"Uh, Daria, I was going into the city Thursday to the library, and maybe a couple of bookstores. Would you like to come with me?"
Daria smiled. "Why, yes, I would," she replied.
~*~
On the way home from the art museum, Daria turned to Jane in the passenger seat. "So, what happens now if you win the purchase prize, and the painting is already sold?"
"Someone else won the purchase prize. The jury awards that before the show opens to the public, so they can hang a ribbon and a sold sign on the winning work." Jane saw a familiar little strip mall coming up on the right. "Hey, you wanna stop for pizza? Any toppings, on me."
Daria steered into the parking lot. "Sure. I'm not going to pass up any more stops at Pizza King. I hear there's nothing to eat in Boston but baked beans."
They ordered the pizza and took their drinks over to their customary booth in the back. As they were picking up their pizza, Quinn, Sandi, Tiffany, and Stacy came in. They got their customary diet drinks and cheeseless pizza and took their seats at their customary high-visibility table by the window.
As Daria bit into her first slice, Jane said casually, "I got tentative commissions for two more paintings. Two thousand apiece, just like this one."
"That's great, Jane! What do you mean, tentative?"
"Well, they're from those other two suits I told you about. Each one approached me later, by himself. They each want a painting similar to the one the other suit bought. I told them I'd have to check with you."
Daria swallowed. "You mean they want a painting of me."
"Yes."
"Nude."
"Yes."
Daria looked at her slice of pizza, put it back on her plate, and took a sip of cola instead. "They specifically asked for me?"
"Well, they don't know your name, of course, but they said 'of the same model.'" Jane said, watching Daria's face anxiously. "I'll split the money with you, fifty-fifty."
Daria seemed not to have heard that last part. "That's kind of... creepy, don't you think?"
"Actually, no. You saw the painting. You're beautiful, Daria. You're a damn good model. And besides that, you've got... something."
"Something? Where? It's not that damn rash again, is it?"
Jane choked back a laugh and shook her head.
"Last time I checked, I just had the usual things, in the usual places and quantities." Daria took a nibble of pizza.
"No, seriously, you have something extra, Daria, something that makes people want to look at a painting of you again and again, and not get tired of it, something that says 'I'm a real person, not just a model, and I don't usually do this.' Something kind of like... innocence."
Daria cocked an eyelid. "Kind of like innocence? You mean like I kind of like never had sex, just maybe once or twice and didn't enjoy it?" A corner of her mouth turned up.
Jane fought to keep from laughing soda up her nose. "Give me a break, Daria. There probably isn't a word for it. It's like... It's as if people could tell by looking that you're really smart and are gonna do great things one day, and it's a real privilege to own a painting that you modeled for."
"Oh, come on, Jane. You don't think it has anything to do with the fact that you're a damn good artist, and you made me look better than I actually do, and people can tell that some day every painting you ever did will be worth a fortune?"
Jane was silent for a moment, gazing hungrily into her friend's eyes. "Oh, God, Daria, I hope so. That's my life's ambition. But as for making you look better then you actually do, no. If I'd done the best painting I possibly could of Brittany or Dawn, I doubt it would have sold, not to mention pulled in those extra commissions. You really do have that extra something, and I'm lucky to've captured some of it, even if I can't describe it." Jane took a sip of her soda, and looked back up at Daria. "So, will you sit for those other two paintings?"
Just then Quinn stepped past Jane and laid a hand on Daria's arm "Daria, Tom's coming!" she whispered.
Daria looked down the corridor where Quinn was discreetly pointing, and sure enough, there was Tom, slowly browsing towards them. She thought of what he would probably think when he saw the painting. She thought of what he might say when he saw the painting. She thought of the possible conversations that might ensue if he saw the painting and her standing here next to it, and she realized that she did not wish to participate in any of those possible conversations.
Daria quickly left the corridor and moved back into the room the way she had come, with Jane on her heels. They circled around a large potted plant at the left side of the doorway and took up a position on the other side of it. A second later, Quinn stepped through the doorway, conversing in low tones with one of her friends who remained in the corridor.
Quinn looked over at Daria. "He's alone," she said, then looked back into the corridor again, then back. "He's just looking. Doesn't seem to be hunting for anything in particular." As Daria and Jane watched from the cover of the potted plant, Quinn backed a little further into the room, then took up a position on the right side of the door. She looked toward them again and whispered "He's close."
Daria waited, looking at Jane, then back at Quinn, then casually about the room, trying to look like she wasn't playing hide-and-go-seek. Quinn peered through the door and grinned, then turned towards Daria and mimed big, bulging eyes and a stunned expression. Daria and Jane grinned back. Quinn backed farther from the door. Suddenly Daria was startled by a loud thumping noise that seemed to come from just on the other side of the wall she stood against. She looked over to Quinn, who could evidently see what was going on. The thumping became repetitive. Quinn pointed to someone or something in the corridor on the other side of the wall, and then at her forehead, looking highly amused. Then they heard a matronly voice from the corridor saying, "Sir, I must ask you not to beat your head on the wall." Smirking, Daria slipped away, leaving her ex-boyfriend alone with his thoughts of what might have been.
~*~
Daria made her way out the doors of the museum. Looking up at the starry sky overhead, she inhaled deeply of the fresher night air. Dimly illuminated by the small floodlights lighting the steps, a face turned toward her, then back away. It was the face of Charles Ruttheimer, who had been sitting on the bottom end of one of the balustrades. A short silence ensued, which Daria felt compelled to break.
"That was nice, what you said about me to those jocks in there, Charles."
Momentarily shocked to receive a compliment from any girl, much less Daria, Charles managed to collect his wits. "It was just the truth, or what I believed was the truth."
Another short silence followed, then Daria said, "It was pretty close. Strange that you saw it when almost no one else did."
Charles looked down at his hands, clasped on one knee. "Maybe not all that strange, Daria. I think you and I are somewhat alike in that way. I used my 'Upchuck' persona as a 'moron repellent', as it were, to discourage interaction with dumb people, sort of the way you used that, um, singular outfit and your remarkable talent for sarcasm." He sighed and looked up at the sky. "It seems I overdid it, though. There were a few girls, you first among them, who I really wanted to get to know better."
Daria was surprised at the note of genuine sadness and wistfulness in his voice. "Maybe we both overdid it. After I met Jane, I pretty much quit trying to make other friends for a while. Having a friend was so great, compared to having no friends..." embarrassed at her unintended candor, she let the sentence trail off incomplete.
"NO friends? I find that hard to imagine. Did your father run a lighthouse on an island or something?"
Daria chuckled bitterly. "I wish. That would have been so much nicer than Highland, Texas."
"You mean there exists an American community that would not fall at the feet of one as beautiful, charming and brilliant as yourself?"
Daria made a face. "You're doing it again."
"But I assure you, lovely lady, I am entirely sincere."
"If you are, that makes me even more uncomfortable. You know I don't like being judged by my physical appearance. Besides, I was neither beautiful nor charming in Highland, and you know as well as I do that popularity is inversely related to intellect."
He sighed. "Sad but true. But I was just trying the best I know how to be polite and chivalrous."
"I sort of thought as much, although it's hard to tell with you. When you're trying to be Upchuck you sound like an early James Bond novel, or Mike Hammer. When you're trying to be charming, you do courtly, and it sounds like imitation Arthurian Legend. You need to just be yourself."
Charles smiled ruefully. "Easier said than done. We're all products of our experiences, and I don't have any experience talking to ladies and not being run off. That's why I tried to borrow from literature."
"Well, just talk to a girl like you talk to your friend or your cousin or whoever."
He shrugged and smiled ruefully. "Like I said..."
"You don't have any sisters? No female cousins? No..."
Charles shook his head slowly.
"Oh." Damn, she thought, he's as bad off as I was in Highland. Poor suffering bastard.
He seemed to make a decision, then looked back up the steps at her. "Uh, Daria, I was going into the city Friday to the library, and maybe a couple of bookstores. Would you like to come with me?"
Not bad, she thought. Not smarmy at all. "Well, I do have some books I need to return, but they're due Thursday."
"Uh, Daria, I was going into the city Thursday to the library, and maybe a couple of bookstores. Would you like to come with me?"
Daria smiled. "Why, yes, I would," she replied.
~*~
On the way home from the art museum, Daria turned to Jane in the passenger seat. "So, what happens now if you win the purchase prize, and the painting is already sold?"
"Someone else won the purchase prize. The jury awards that before the show opens to the public, so they can hang a ribbon and a sold sign on the winning work." Jane saw a familiar little strip mall coming up on the right. "Hey, you wanna stop for pizza? Any toppings, on me."
Daria steered into the parking lot. "Sure. I'm not going to pass up any more stops at Pizza King. I hear there's nothing to eat in Boston but baked beans."
They ordered the pizza and took their drinks over to their customary booth in the back. As they were picking up their pizza, Quinn, Sandi, Tiffany, and Stacy came in. They got their customary diet drinks and cheeseless pizza and took their seats at their customary high-visibility table by the window.
As Daria bit into her first slice, Jane said casually, "I got tentative commissions for two more paintings. Two thousand apiece, just like this one."
"That's great, Jane! What do you mean, tentative?"
"Well, they're from those other two suits I told you about. Each one approached me later, by himself. They each want a painting similar to the one the other suit bought. I told them I'd have to check with you."
Daria swallowed. "You mean they want a painting of me."
"Yes."
"Nude."
"Yes."
Daria looked at her slice of pizza, put it back on her plate, and took a sip of cola instead. "They specifically asked for me?"
"Well, they don't know your name, of course, but they said 'of the same model.'" Jane said, watching Daria's face anxiously. "I'll split the money with you, fifty-fifty."
Daria seemed not to have heard that last part. "That's kind of... creepy, don't you think?"
"Actually, no. You saw the painting. You're beautiful, Daria. You're a damn good model. And besides that, you've got... something."
"Something? Where? It's not that damn rash again, is it?"
Jane choked back a laugh and shook her head.
"Last time I checked, I just had the usual things, in the usual places and quantities." Daria took a nibble of pizza.
"No, seriously, you have something extra, Daria, something that makes people want to look at a painting of you again and again, and not get tired of it, something that says 'I'm a real person, not just a model, and I don't usually do this.' Something kind of like... innocence."
Daria cocked an eyelid. "Kind of like innocence? You mean like I kind of like never had sex, just maybe once or twice and didn't enjoy it?" A corner of her mouth turned up.
Jane fought to keep from laughing soda up her nose. "Give me a break, Daria. There probably isn't a word for it. It's like... It's as if people could tell by looking that you're really smart and are gonna do great things one day, and it's a real privilege to own a painting that you modeled for."
"Oh, come on, Jane. You don't think it has anything to do with the fact that you're a damn good artist, and you made me look better than I actually do, and people can tell that some day every painting you ever did will be worth a fortune?"
Jane was silent for a moment, gazing hungrily into her friend's eyes. "Oh, God, Daria, I hope so. That's my life's ambition. But as for making you look better then you actually do, no. If I'd done the best painting I possibly could of Brittany or Dawn, I doubt it would have sold, not to mention pulled in those extra commissions. You really do have that extra something, and I'm lucky to've captured some of it, even if I can't describe it." Jane took a sip of her soda, and looked back up at Daria. "So, will you sit for those other two paintings?"