Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Aaaand now, here's chapter two. (Did you really think I was gonna leave it at that, despite my penchant for not finishing stories?)
Dance My Painting, I'll Paint Your Dancing, Chapter Two.
Two days later saw Gwen and Reshan at the Broadway Café in downtown Manhattan.
"This is really nice," the dancer said. "Thanks for inviting me."
"No problem," Reshan replied. "I enjoy your company." More than you know.
She lifted another forkful of fettuccini alfredo to her mouth. "How's the salad?"
"Good. The breadrolls here are the best."
Reshan smiled. "Aren't they?"
They ate their lunch in silence, then, until Gwen broke it.
"Reshan, um, could I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Could I see some of your paintings, sometime?"
Natural curiosity prompted Reshan's wisest and most worldwise reply.
"Why?"
Gwen blushed. "Well. I've heard that you're a really good painter, and since you actually do live off your work, I figure you must be good. So I'd like to see your stuff."
Reshan grinned. "Well, if you get to see my stuff, then I get to see your stuff. I want to watch you dance." Gwen's face fell slightly. "I- can't show you," she mumbled."
Reshan's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because I suck and I can't get a job because I can't dance," Gwen ground out.
"Who says?" Reshan inquired quietly.
"These!" Gwen pulled a bunch of papers out of her bag with a flourish.
Reshan took them and skimmed through them. They were all variations on the same theme: not enough emotion.
She handed them back to Gwen and raised an eyebrow. "Not enough emotion? Gwen, you're one of the most passionate people I know."
Despite knowing you as a friend for only two days.
"Apparently not when I dance. Dancing is my life, my passion, my èlèment motuer! It just doesn't come out in my dancing. It's- all bottled up inside, and it won't show itself when I dance, and that's where I need it most!"
"Oh." Reshan put all the compassion, understanding, and sympathy she possessed into that one word.
"Well, I had a friend once, and he was having the same exact problem. Well, not maybe exact; he was a singer, but he couldn't go anywhere because he had no emotion. I was having problems painting, so we collaborated. I painted his singing and he tried to sing my painting. He ended up getting so happy that he overextended himself and got dizzy and fell onto the painting, effectively ruining it, but that's not my point. It worked for him, and it might well work for you."
Francisco had finally gotten onto Broadway and was currently touring the country with Phantom of the Opera, playing Piangi. He was a good guy, and his last phone call had informed her that he had gotten an offer from the Les Misèrables touring group, possibly to play Marius, the second male lead.
"So do you want to try it?" she asked, breaking away from her thoughts, and half-praying that Gwen would accept.
"I'll try anything at this point," Gwen replied wearily.
"Okay! Do you want to try tonight? I'm free, and you can see my paintings."
Gwen perked up a little. "Sure."
They finished their food and called for the bill. As they walked out the door, Reshan was inwardly ecstatic. Finally she would have Gwen right where she wanted her- and maybe be able to probe a little about how Gwen might feel about a relationship with her.
She couldn't keep the grin off her face.
Reshan pulled the cover off the first of the paintings.
"Wow."
"Mmmyep."
"No, really, wow."
Reshan smiled. All Gwen could say was 'wow.' The painting in question wasn't even her best one, and all she could say was 'wow.' Cover after cover came off the paintings, and Gwen's eyes got bigger every time.
Then she unveiled the last painting, her best (and favorite) so far, and Gwen's jaw hit the floor.
Literally.
Gwen was so amazed that she half reached out to touch it, tripped, and fell flat on her face. Reshan burst out laughing and helped her to her feet, and Gwen just stood there, gazing at the painting.
It featured a beautifully carved, faded old ivory tower projecting out of a turbulent sea, and on the top was a girl, obviously ready to jump. Her arms were spread slightly and her eyes clearly showed conflict between whether to jump or not. Behind her was a dark shadow, out of whose back protruded large shadows in a suggestion of wings spread wide, perhaps to enfold her with the figure in their shadowy embrace or to push her off with a gust of wind. Reshan liked to imagine the former, but the latter was all too possible. The painting was done in mostly dark colors; dark greens and blues for the sea, blacks and grays for the contours of the tower and the shadow, and the sky that it blended so well with, and a black gown for the girl.
The only light colors were the tower itself, a faded ivory color, the girl's eyes, two expressive orbs of blue the color of the sky on a warm summer's day, and a far off ray of light piercing the heavy dark clouds overhead, a lone ray of hope or survival, if the girl could only endure long enough. The painting was rather large; about three feet by four, and she had been working on it for nearly a year on and off, and apparently it was worth the pain that the ridges in the sea, depressions in the tower, and texture of the overall had taken. Gwen was gape-mouthed and stuttering. "Reshan, this is- amazing- no words- can describe- it's beautiful, it's magnificent, it's-"
Reshan cut her off with a wave of her hand, laughing. "There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio. Thanks. Now, would you like to get started? I'd really like to see what you've got."
Gwen looked doubtful, but she nodded and headed over to her gym bag that had been set down next to the wall, and pulled out a tape player and several tapes.
Reshan moved her easel and paints over to a point on the edge of the living room, on the periphery of the kitchen.
The living room itself was one of the reasons why her apartment was one of the more desirable-and expensive-of the apartments available in Guardian House. The floor was a smooth wooden twenty-by-twenty foot expanse that was mostly open, save for the one couch and the T.V., both on rollers so that they could be moved easily if Reshan decided she needed space. Gwen probably could have used it for better effect, and it was Reshan's dream that Gwen would be soon; if only she could get up the courage to ask the other woman out on a tentative date.
Now Reshan pushed them over to the corner near the kitchenette, so that the couch was back against the wall and the T.V. next to it, giving Gwen the most possible space.
"Let me just warm up," Gwen said, and Reshan nodded and continued setting up her supplies.
Gwen stretched out on the floor and started working on her legs.
Reshan covertly watched the dancer and silently admired the sleek muscles in her body through the skintight leggings and conforming shirt. Reshan had never really liked the beefy, muscular types, nor geeky or 'preppie' partners. Gwen was neither. She was down to earth, shy, but still willing to speak her mind about what she felt was important. Intelligence, love, understanding, and compassion were what Reshan valued in a partner. Gwen was all of these things and more. Reshan felt nearly sick with longing; Gwen was everything she desired, and yet still so completely… untouchable. Reshan had been very... ah, promiscuous over the last few years, but hadn't felt this burning passion for anyone except Gwen.
She hadn't even felt that way about Tanya, and Tanya had been her longest fling yet. But... Tanya was a whore. She had always wanted an open relationship, and she was intelligent, but she had never loved Reshan. That was what had bothered Reshan from the beginning, and the painter would have been willing to bet money that Tanya had been two-timing her, and merely staying for non-existent sex. That was why she had hared off. Well, more of a 'get-out'-'okay-I-will' thing, but she had left.
A few minutes later, Gwen finished with a "Done," and sprang up with an energy she hadn't hinted at before. "What style?" she asked, to which Reshan replied, "whatever's best."
Gwen set the tape and posed in the center of the room in kind of a backward-crouch position; her legs were bent in front of her and her back was arched, and her head was back with her arms braced on either side. The tape started playing the song, 'Cry Me A River,' by Justin Timberlake, and Gwen leaped into action. Reshan vaguely recognized the style as hip-hop, and she chose a red and a blue, mixing them into a pale purple and dabbing at the edges of the canvas. Gwen's papers were right; she was a terrific dancer, but showed almost no emotion. It was like a violin with no vibrato; pretty, and alive, but not living; simply existing, like a dead lake. Pretty, for all it's sereneness, but no life.
After the song ended, Reshan called Gwen over to see what was done so far. The dancer studied the mostly white canvas and frowned. "This is-what I expected- and yet- I can try- no- oh!" she rushed over to her bag and pulled out a new tape, switching it for the one in the player and practically flying back to the center of the room.
"I've never used this tape," she stated, "so bear with me. I'll be improving as I go." The tape started, and a tune from Riverdance- the first song, 'Reel Around The Sun,' Reshan thought, and Gwen began. Her soft shoes didn't make a lot of sound on the wood floor, but the noise that she did make allowed Reshan to identify it as step.
She chose a dark green and started brushing at the near-empty canvas. The song segued unexpectedly, into a rap song, 'Lose Yourself,' and after a slight hesitation, Gwen changed her dance into breakdancing and Reshan selected a medium blue. The tape- and Gwen- changed into a dozen different songs and dance styles, and Reshan changed colors and techniques with them. The mix finally stopped on a clip from Phantom of the Opera, from the final scene and the words, "You alone can make my song take flight, it's over now, the Music of the Night!" that always made Reshan shiver with delight emanated from the speakers. Gwen was dripping with sweat- the tape had been- Reshan checked her watch- geez. Fourteen minutes straight of dancing.
The canvas was still quite barren, but now- Gwen's emotion was faintly imprinted on it in the form of a vague outline of a woman, with swirling ribbons of music threading their way around her and through the portrait.
Gwen walked over to where she could see the portrait and gasped. "That's-" she groped for words. "Amazing? A visual masterpiece? A perfect portrait of emotion itself?" Reshan cut in with an insolent grin. "Yes. I-"
Reshan interrupted. "Would like a Gatorade? You're sweating and your hands are shaking-"
Gwen looked down. "So they are."
"Go sit on the couch and I'll get you one. Go." Reshan pushed Gwen in the direction of the couch and went to grab the promised Gatorade from the fridge. She sat next to Gwen on the couch, and handed her the purple Gatorade, flexing her fingers as she did. The couch wasn't really a couch- more of a loveseat, so they were in close proximity.
The two artists simply sat for a while, just chilling and nursing their aches, until Reshan began to really notice Gwen. The dancer was sweaty, and still trembling slightly, and her closeness was beginning to make Reshan uncomfortable. The heat from her overheated form started seeping into Reshan and before she knew what she was doing, her arm was around the surprised dancer's shoulders, and her other hand was lifting her chin up, her head tilted and- Reshan threw herself off the couch, panting. "You should go-" she gasped.
Gwen's eyes were full of questions, and her fingers were reaching up to touch her face where Reshan's fingers had been.
"Please- just go!" Reshan rasped out.
Slowly- too slowly in Reshan's opinion, the danced gathered up her things and left, leaving Reshan alone with her thoughts- and her guilt.
Oh- god. What now?
She collapsed onto the now-empty couch and covered her face with her hands. A dry sob racked her frame and she peered at the ceiling through the gaps in her fingers.
What did I almost do?