How Now, Brown Cow? (a Spam story)
4. Teacher
Spencer hadn't spoken to Harry in a long time, so the latter was somewhat surprised to get a call from Spencer, especially at that hour.
"Spencer Shay? Yes, I remember you. Why are calling me at this hour? ... Alright. You know my studio? Meet me there in an hour."
Harry still hadn't completely woken up when Spencer arrived. They both looked bedraggled and in need of sleep.
"What's so important Spencer?"
"Harry, am I any good? As an artist I mean?"
"This again? I thought that was settled. For the last time, I'm sorry. You are very good. Was that all?"
"Harry, I know you think I'm good, but am I really? Sam is so amazing and the better she gets, the worse my art has become."
"Listen, Spencer. I think you're art is terrific. But then I'm a pop-artist myself. The fact is the art world has left us behind. Pop Art is out. Everyone says it's tired and trivial. And you, my friend, with your whimsical sculptures, are the epitome of trivial. That's not a bad thing in my mind. Our art makes people happy and that's why I keep doing it. But you will never achieve fame or riches. And frankly Samantha is more talented that both of us put together. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear, but there it is."
"Harry, I think you're right about everything. Thanks and sorry for getting you up."
"That's alright. Want some coffee?"
"No, I have to go talk to my sister. See you around."
He flew out the next day after calling his sister. He didn't want to interrupt her studies, but as soon as she heard his voice, she insisted he come immediately. When she met him at the airport she could hardly recognize him. Gone was the happy, carefree Spencer she had always known. She had seen him depressed before, but never so utterly defeated.
"Fine older brother I am, laying all my problems on you."
"I love you, Spencer. You know you can tell me anything. We can figure it out, I'm sure."
Slowly over the course of the morning, Spencer began to relate what had changed. Sam's meteoric rise, his dismal fall (check that, he had never really been all that good) and finally his admission that he had been in love with Sam for a long time, but that she obviously didn't feel that way.
Carly was not shocked by his admission. She had seen how Spencer had become more attached to Sam, but remembered her visit and the way the Sam and Spencer seemed destined to go down different roads. She had worried that Spencer would really get hurt and now that had come to pass.
"Don't blame Sam" Spencer said. "She never made me any promises or said she loved me. And her success is due to her own talent."
"No" Carly interrupted. "YOU are the one who saw her potential. YOU are the one who cared for her when she had no one. YOU are the one who made her a great artist!" Carly had become rather vehement.
"Carly, Sam had the talent and I just helped her to realize it. Please don't be mad at her. You're her best friend and I think she's going to need you someday. As for me, you know I'm OK. Because when I think about her, I also think about the amazing things she has created. Carly, she's a genius! Some of her works are true masterpieces! That's worth more than the happiness of some hack."
"Spencer, you are NOT a hack! You are the best brother a girl could ever have and the best man a woman could ever find! And I will be mad at Sam, if only because she's too stupid to see how amazing you really are."
Tears were welling in Spencer's eyes as he gave his little sister a long hug. He knew she would help him decide things.
"What are you going to do?" Carly asked nervously.
"I'm going to leave Seattle. Maybe find a small town and teach me some art. I really enjoyed teaching and I think I could be good at it."
Carly beamed at him. "Spencer, you would be GREAT at it!"
It was Spencer's birthday. Sam only knew because she had programmed her iPhone to alert her. She had totally forgotten about it. She felt slightly guilty, not having talked to him for several weeks. Well, maybe she would go over to his studio. She still had to get a few of her pieces she had left there. And it would give her a chance to catch up with him.
The lobby was empty when she came in and she went right up to Spencer's (funny, she used to think of it as 'our') loft. As she opened the door, she let out a gasp. It was completely empty. All the furniture, decorations, sculptures, everything was gone. She went right to Spencer's bedroom to find it similarly deserted and empty. Even the loft upstairs was cleaned out.
She sat on the floor for a few minutes, thinking of the iCarly shows they had done there. Carly and Freddie. And Spencer. Spencer had always been around, willing to join in, always happy to make a fool of himself for their sake. Tears fell on her cheek. Where had those days gone? It really wasn't that long ago. Less than two years, but it felt like forever.
Sam headed back to the lobby where she was startled by a belligerent Lewbert.
"WHAT do you think YOU'RE doing?" he screamed.
Sam was in no mood and in any event wasn't some child to be yelled at anymore. Lewbert must have seen that in her look, for he quickly backed off.
"Where's Spencer?" she demanded.
"Who?"
"Spencer Shay? Where is he?"
"Oh him. The artist guy. Yeah, he moved out a few weeks ago."
Sam was stunned. She had always been able to go to Spencer's place. He always let her in no matter what. She was always safe there and cared for. Now that was gone. Panic set in.
"Where did he go? WHERE DID HE GO?" she screamed.
"Geez, I don't know. Away." Lewbert paused staring at her as if she might attack him.
Sam turned to leave.
"He left some stuff in the basement, though."
Sam spun and stared at him. The basement? Then she remembered the old storage cages down there. Where Spencer used to keep his camping gear and other useless junk. He got locked in there once. She began to smile at the memory, then suddenly ran to the stairs.
There was the cage. And she still had a key. Right next to the apartment key. She opened the door and looked at two large wooden packing crates, some boxes and a lot of things covered by tarps. The crates drew her attention first, as her name was stenciled on them. Samantha Puckett. No address. Now that she thought about it, had she even given him her address?
The crates were closed but not nailed down. Lifting the lid she saw frames neatly and carefully packed. Pulling out one she immediately recognized a practice painting she had done. A portrait of Spencer. It wasn't very good, but that's not why she began to cry. There was his goofy, sweet smile staring at her. She stared at the face a long time. Had she really never noticed how handsome he was? She wanted to talk to him. "Hey, Spence" But it was only a picture. She put it back and closed the crate.
The boxes were odds and ends and a few marked 'Carly's stuff'. Sam couldn't resist and looked inside, finding pictures and knick-knacks that reminded her of her best friend. Best friend? How long had it been? Last year when she visited during break, Sam imagined. Some friend I am, I never even call her. As she put them back in the box the memories brought smiles and tears to her face. She hadn't talked to Fredwierd in almost two years. It was like looking at someone else's life.
She quickly closed the boxes and was ready to leave. She had found what she came for, right? All her old pieces, neatly boxed and ready to ship. The only thing she hadn't found was Spencer. That was when she saw the large tarp-covered thing. A Christmas tree? No, Spencer never had one. Just that magnetic one that caught fire. She laughed softly at the memory. Reaching over she pulled the tarp off and froze.
There was Spencer's green bottle robot sculpture. He had made that before Sam and Carly had met. He had always had that. He never sold it and never would. What was it doing here? Why was it in the basement? Why hadn't he taken it with him to his new studio? She stood momentarily frozen in thought. What did it mean?
Then she saw other shapes under the tarps. Pulling them off she saw sculpture after sculpture. The unsold and the too-personal-to-sell. She looked blankly at these, his prized pieces, left abandoned in a basement storage cage. But even these did not prepare her for the shock of discovering what lay under the stack of frames in the back.
Here were painting, drawings, sketches, framed and unframed, one after another, of a face she knew well – her own. And they were exquisite. Spencer had shown her a few tips on painting and drawing, but she had never seen him paint or draw. He had done sculptures. Except for these. Portraits of her. At her best. At her worst. But each done with great skill and care. And, without question, love. These were his masterpieces. She broke down and dropped to her knees, sobbing.
Why she had flown out here she didn't know. She could have called. But she couldn't have. She had to see her best friend. She had to see Carly. She had scoured the entire art community of Seattle before winding up at Harry Joiner's door. Spencer's hero. Why hadn't she remembered and started there? He had directed her toward Carly, but Carly would have been her next stop anyway. Carly could always make things right.
Carly opened the door and froze in surprise. She hadn't seen Sam or known she was coming, but after seeing Spencer she knew somehow that Sam would show up. Or maybe she just hoped so. She still loved Sam. Her best friend, but now a stranger.
"Hey, Carly."
"Sam? What are you doing here?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know what to do." Suddenly Sam rushed in and threw her arms around Carly. Her tears started flowing heavily and she was so choked up she could hardly breathe. Carly held her friend tight. She had never seen Sam come apart before. Sam had always been the strong one. Carly patted her on the back and led her to a chair.
"Spencer's not here" she said.
Sam stared at her. She didn't know what to say. She felt totally lost as she had on her eighteenth birthday. Only then she had known where to go.
"Look, Sam" Carly began "I think I know why you're here. But Spencer left. I'm not sure you should find him."
Sam continued to stare, hoping Carly would explain everything, make everything better, make it so Spencer was here. Her eyes red and tear-filled she hoarsely asked. "What do I do Carly?"
"Maybe you should just let him go." Carly didn't want to hurt Sam, but she loved Spencer and couldn't stand to see him so hurt.
"I…I…I can't" Sam whimpered. "I love him."
"Sam, I love you. But you hurt Spencer. Bad. He gave up everything for you. He loved you more than anything. You can't just say 'I love you' and fix this. This isn't Freddie being embarrassed about a kiss. This can't be fixed with an apology."
Sam stared at her, knowing she was right, feeling her heart break. She sat silently as all emotion drained from her. "Carly" she whispered "what do I do?"
The classroom was noisy as the students jostled to get behind their easels. Tugging, joking, yelling and horse-play added to the general chaos as he tapped his brush.
"Ok, let's put that craziness on canvas!" he said as the class immediately got quiet and attentive. They loved Mr. Shay. He was the COOLEST teacher. Everybody knew that.
"Alright today we're going to think of the grossest thing ever and paint it. And it better not be a picture of THIS!" he said as a huge handful of green slime oozed from his fist.
The students all laughed then began talking, debating, sketching and painting. No one noticed the door open and a very pretty blond girl enter. Slowly a few in the class turned to stare at this unknown visitor. Finally one bright student cried out "Oh, my God! It's Samantha Puckett!" All the students turned in awe. But Sam was only looking at one person.
Spencer turned to look at her, a blank expression on his face. Sam froze. What had she done? She shouldn't have come. Carly had been right. Spencer walked right up to her, his face still serious and stern.
"Wanna paint something gross?" He asked.
Sam laughed as tears streamed down her face. She threw her arms around Spencer and held on to him as if her life depended on it. And she painted the greatest painting of something gross ever seen.