It Speaks to Me

Draft 1It took five months for Ewan to muster the nerve, nay, the gallantry to make a first move on Robyn.Ewan spent an excess of twenty minutes locked inside a pizzeria that was built like an oven. He had been here before, but never this late in the year and never with all of the ovens running in unison. He convinced Robyn the pizza was worth the wait but regretted convincing himself that it was still pant weather.The two grabbed a bench together outside and, over pizza and iced coffee, they traded stories of the school year they just finished and about John, who they met in class. Ewan argued that the amount of coffee in his iced coffee was a waste of Robyns money awhile Robyn praised the pizza he had waited so long for. He was never sure how to deal with these situations, he did not really mind how little coffee he had, but arguing about something so asinine kept his from deciding whether or not something was happening between the two - Ewan was no stranger to thinking there was more going on than there was.Finding the Steveston Pizza Companys portions more than adequate, the two took to the shade under a sycamore tree. Ewans attempts to accidentally brush his hand against Robyns were punctuated with him tossing leftover crust at the local ducks. Unnoticed, John found the couple half asleep; Robyn resting on Ewans shoulders and their hands interwoven. He tapped Ewan awake, Took you two long enough."Well? asked an aggravated Robyn, how is it, any good? She will be here in, like, 15 minutes.Ewan wiped dry his forehead with the heel of his wrist, Its good, I promise you its good, I just have to clean up these pancakesI thought you made soupGreen onion pancakes, I have done this before, it works. Dont worry one bit, I am the one destined to mess this up and it is not with my cooking.Well, I appreciate the condolen the phone rang, frightening a small plate from her hand into a dozen pieces on the floor, ces condolences, shit, Im sorry.Through clenched fists and pinched eyes he inhaled deeply, Grab the phone, dont let her dont worry, I got this, dont let her up, get her at the door or something.Hello Robyn, this is your mother.Hey mom, need me to come get you?No, I am fine, I know how toIll come get you, Robyn hung up the phone and rushed down the hallway, remembering to both regulate her breathing and to button the rest of her blouse.Ewan had planned this day for months; the first few were spent arguing with himself about whether or not he should even bother, the final few were spent trying to avoid her indignant mothers schedule.He was feeling elated when he told Robyn he wanted to make her a proper dinner and take her out those weeks ago, less so when he was informed her mother was going to show up. Lynda had a way of interrupting Ewan, it was if she knew everything that a painting ever said to him.Whatever fear Ewan held that caused him to take five months to ask Robyn out was dwarfed by that of her domineering mother. The fact that the only way that Ewan could survive being around Lynda was being incessantly sarcastic did nothing to help her opinion of him. If he was going to go anywhere with this girl, he knewthathe had to either get over her mother or she had to get over him.Ewan was just about finished sweeping away the dozen pieces of deceptively inexpensive dinnerware when a knock on his door startled him, Its open, come on in.Hello boy, greeted Robyns mother, moving from under the doorframe to seething space in less time than felt natural.Good evening Mrs. Holliday, how have you been? We have both missed you ever so much.Robyn sent a piercing glare.Its Miss, thank you very much, but I have been better. Call me Lynda, please, no need for platitudes.MomNo platitudes maam, would you care for some tea? Dinner is just about finished, Ewan ushered Lynda to a seat opposite to the painting he had just finished framing and hanging up earlier that afternoon."The bright colours remind you of the trips to the cabin with your grandmother, the reflections under the waters surface, the interlocking streams of sea-foam green, a million different blues and the odd flash of sea life""Oh, you got a Hassam? How quaint, pandering will get you nowhere, dear. Just a bit of cream, thank you," Robyn poured her mother some cream for her tea, but not after delivering her some scorn."Mother, he doesn't even know about your book on Hassam, do you Ewan?"He shook his head, "I promise.""How much did that set you back?" she may have been a bitter woman, but her passion for the artist Childe Hassam sometimes poked through her veneer of paranoid motherhood, "for that size I would say somewhere between five and six-hundred, but you cant afford an honest reproduction so Lynda stood up to feel around the edge of the canvas to find some wiring and pinhole speakers.Mother, pleaseYes, it is a print, and yes it is simulated, well get an honest one later once we have the money, Ewan interjected, breaking his brief stint of cool and calm, heading back into his kitchen.We? What is this we he speaks of, Robyn? If you had stayed living with me, or if you had stayed in school like you were supposed to then you wouldnt need to resort to such knock-offs.Lynda Ewan barked from the kitchen.Mom, it has been almost five years, we are allowed to buy things together. And yes, living in Vancouver is expensive, but I am almost thirty, I needed to get out of that house of years long before I did."Lynda, not used to her daughter standing up for herself resorted to a cough into her sleeve."Five years, mom, three more than you and dad everSoup is ready! said Ewan in the calmest andmostreserved form of a shout that he could manage, trying his best to avoid getting in the middle of Robyn and her mother arguing again.The dinner, spicy chicken and noodle soup, went relatively well. Lynda was also confused by the idea of a green onion pancake, but no amount of bitter prejudice could override her reaction to dipping it in the soup. When asked where he got the idea, Evan told her it was part of the practical exam at the culinary school. It was never the cooking he was worried about, though. She was the director of the Vancouver Art Gallery, art was her thing, it was all that she was. When Robyn told her that she was switching majors from Art History to Culinary Arts she was more than a bit perturbed. Lynda satdown with a cup of tea and Ewans first attempt at a marble bundt cake for desert. Ewan saw no visible objections after her first bite and finally let his toes uncurl.You know, Robyn, with your grades you could have sailed through the first portions of that Art History major in a year or two and gotten yourself a solid job at an art gallery, or even at Bartels. With that kind of money you could have easily paid forMother, please, Robyn nipped at her boyfriends hand when she felt him inhaling to say something, We like it here fine, and Art History was never my thing, it was never Ewans thing either. You just want to leave some sort of, I dont know, some sort of legacy or something.Lyndas face replied with an exaggerated nonplussed expression, her daughter knew how to get to her, and she knew what she pretended to do when she did.She coughed, Okay, Ewan, why did you take that class if you were so eager to drop it? Where you stalking my daughter, was that it, did you see her skirt one day and think it afforded you some license to-Ewan was also getting used to Lynda, No, I was not stalking Robyn, I was not stalking anyone. I took the class because it was an elective that fit with my work schedule.Lynda shrugged.It still is interesting, I still enjoy is every now and then, but Ewan and I do not want a career in it, Robyn left Lynda with a want for words, and this is Vancouver, if I dont care to make a living talking to painters and their paintings someone will sure want to.Besides, Ewan butted in, If this culinary art thing doesnt work out for us we can just I dont know, take up shop in Yaletown or Granville Island and call our food artisan or something.With her mouth stapled shut, Lynda got up, walked to the front door, grabbed her umbrella and started to put her shoes on.Okay then, the couple uttered in unison and left their apartment to Bartel's Art Museum and Gallery."It was your twelfth time out together, you had not planned anything but the two of you were friendly enough to excuse the odd coffee and lunch together, so meeting at Garry Point was not uncouth. After dancing around the idea for a few monthsEwan heard someone walk into the paintings periphery, breaking whatever link the oils and the strokes had to his memories and quickly switched to a less private topic.The thin lines in the water, the shapes and the muted colour remind you of the farm town you grew up in. Half of your friends spent their weekends on fishing boats, the other half pretended they did"Duck Island from Appledore by Frederick Childe Hassam," the voice that interrupted him kissed him on the cheek, "you sure you aren't trying to get into my mom's pants?" and familiar fingers wrapped themselves around Ewan's.Lynda! Listen to yourself, Jesus ChristHe is just a very good painter and this painting, it speaks to me.Theyre paintings, Ewan, they all speak to us.With variations depending on the ageing and restoration process, along with the type of paint used and the bruYes, Lynda, I know this stuff. I am just saying it gets deeper than the usual painting. Its really nice, helps me reflect, Ewans hands were acting as much as a tenured professor as he could remember, helps me get my mind off of having to put up with you constantly, he smiled at Lynda.It was not unusual for a painting to speak differently around a viewer. Ewan and Robyn had visited Bartel's often enough in the past few years for the paintings to remember them, to remember to greet them. A mans memories are rarely specific, they are usually often just a bundle of emotion and stress and fear wrapped around an amorphous shape of a memory. Some of the better painters here, Hassam, Monet, El Greco and Courbet instilled such emotion into their paintings as to be able to identify emotion, to identify when that amorphous shape of memory was walking within its periphery with her bratty mother."The shades of green, of pine, moss and overgrowth remind you of your old family trips to 100 Mile House during the spring and summer breaks. It reminds you of the grass and the trees, the weather at the lake, of the breeze just cool enough to warrant a sweater or a fire just lit enough to leave you smelling of smoke. You remember rotor of your dads boat in various states of disrepair as you go hunting for oyster, you remember the smell of trout and cod andThe cut of sunflowers harken back to your days visiting your uncle's farm by the highway. You would have corn on the cob barbecues in makeshiftbarbecuemade of brick and your childhood summers. He would leave each guest with aYou fell asleep fishing and returned bright red, were called lobster for the rest of the school yearAnd only a few flowers survived the storm Trees and UnderbrushFour Cut Sunflowers, VincentVincent Van Ghogh.Ewan paused for a moment, Lynda? Please, come on, his girlfriends mother had purposely walked past the paintings rope dividers without backing out entirely, letting Vincent Van Goghs Four Cut Sunflowers only think to speak louder to her.My most sincere apologies, she stepped back as Ewan heard someone come up behind him.Excuse me maam, but may I borrow your sons time? the security guard asked.He is not my son, you insolent-Hi John," Robyn smiled at her old friend, sure, go ahead, mother and I need to get some water, dont we mother?John met Robyn and Ewan rather surreptitiously in their Art History class. Unlike the couple, who found no more than a passing interest in the field, John kept going for his degree. To help pay off this degree, John took a job at Bartels as a security guard. It may not have been the most eloquent of job opportunities, but it got him a foot in the door with the directors and got his friends a sneak-peak at whatever pieces and artists they were featuring.So, John asked, how did the dinner go?Good in the way that food was good, Ewan replied, bad in the way that it was with Lynda.She still not giving you a break, eh?Hey, um the paintings, do you know how often they go off-script?John found Ewan and himself a concrete tree planter to rest on, Its fine, he said, waving off the NO SITTING sign that was leaning against the plants stem, and yeah, but not a whole lot. It depends I suppose, what do you have in mind?Well, I have been visiting here for a while now, right?John nodded in reply.Okay, not 'off script' per se, but it just seems that a lot of the paintings are changing the stories they latch onto. I dont remember reading about paintings that changed their minds on what part of your mind to look at.It had been a long night and John let out a sizeable yawn, Well the paintings, the the prints have a script of course, but the legitimate ones, the originals and the proper reproduction, they go off of whatever you are or were being reminded of or thinking about. They have some amplifiers and deepening systems, but that is only to keep their volumes more or less stable. Why, whats up?I dont know, some sound different lately.Maybe you just have a gigantic, life changing event stuck in your mind and that is painting everything in a new light. Pardon the pun I think.You think they can see that deep?Yeah, John said, trying to pull his yawning mouth closed, it just depends on how good the painting is or how good the painter was.Ewan loved these paintings, but he was of a dying group. He may not want a career in Art History, but at least he respected it. He preferred to see a painting as privately as possible, as closely as possible, to let him connect with the painters voice's and how it would echo through the acrylic, oil, or watercolours, letting each colours voice reverberate over each brushstroke. No one knew how these paintings read and spoke their thoughts, just that they always did. Okay, good, everything else working out? asked John.Yeah, Im feeling good about this. If we can get into your brother's car then we can head off without Lynda even noticing. You sure this is legal, borrowing his cab like this?As long as you dont pay me, or as long as I dont charge you it should be okay, John said hopefully.You good? asked Ewan.Im good."On his way to the newer pieces, of those few artists featured whos bodies had not yet rotted into connoisseurs worship Ewan walked past a hallway. The hallway was clear enough to give way to a heated conversation that sounded a lot like one between Robyn and her mother. He slowed his pace down, but not enough to betray his motive.Robyn, dear, it has been almost five years and he has said not a single thing, he is just using youMother! We just moved in together, is that not enough of a step for you? Not like you are one to talk, we have already lasted longerDo not bring your dad into this, you cannot use him as a stop-gap for every argument we get into, that was years ago, things were different.Mother, time does not dilute hypocrisy. Yes, it has been a while, time is different and that is good. Society has evolved enough that getting knocked up isnt reason enough for you to stay with someoneRobynThat will walk out on you years later. I mean shit, he did not even smoke!Robyn! Inside voices, please.Ewan checked his pocket again and kept walking.***"The two of you are visiting Oregon for her friends wedding party. The leaves were just breaking from their branch and piled atop and aside an old farmhouse that rested on a lake. The rich red, the orange and greens of the fall and the charcoal purple were perfect. Reluctantly you came as her plus-one, but fell ill on the way there. While the rest of the party went exploring the area she never let out out of her sight and out of her grip- Oregon Gold, by Roman Youngquist.Ewan was startled again by a hand inside is own, Oh, sorry, I was kind of-Oh! That looks like the place at Dayton and Kristas wedding, Robyn whispered from behind his shoulders.Heh yeah, I guess it does.Well, there you are, the air went dry with the snarl in Lyndas voice, we thought you walked out on us.I I didnt, Robyns reassurance went unheard.The taxi will be here in a few minutes. You two, meet me outside, I have a few things to pick up.But I swear, I did not think that.The two held together under an umbrella, waiting for their taxi to find parking space.So, what is this for again? Why has your mother decided to tag along on our date?Robyn pulled on his coat and kissed him, Im sorry I really am. I promised her we would do something before her big conference and, well, that is coming up tomorrow. You know how insistent she can be, dont you?Ewan sighed.But its okay, right? Dates are dates, we can have another one soon, she smiled brightly and pecked Ewan on the cheek. Robyn felt his pocket buzzing and pulled out his phone."'Ello?""I'm here," a taxi cab pulled up to the couple, the passenger seat folded over. With palm in hand Ewan helped Robyn get into the seat behind the capped driver as her mother came rushing towards the open window."Sorry ma'am, you can grab the cab behind me.What about your passenger seat?He pulled his cap even lower, Inoperable, maam, but I am sure but her attention was already at the couple behind him.Mom, we know where everything is, rain or no rain we are going to get there on time, we will see you in a bit.Lynda stomped off in a huff.Where to? his voice drilled with a rehearsed gruffness.Before Robyn could reply, Ewan tore a page from his notebook and handed it to the driver, Written directions are better than none, specially in this weather, Ewan said to herRobyn had all but settled herself in by the time their cab tip-toed through the traffic and was all but asleep by the time they got past Robson and Cambie, Ewan was still fidgeting with his pocket.You okay? Robyn asked.Mm? Oh, yea, I suppose. She is just tiring to be around, you know?She let go a short chortle and a snort into Ewans coat sleeve, Pfft, do I know? Do I everThe roads in Vancouver do not deal well with torrential rain, so it took more than enough time to get them onto Nelson Street and Robyn was nodding off by the time they hit Cambie Street Bridge.When the couple finally stopped, Robyn was shuffled awake she didnt care to look where she was, but only how to best crawl out of the car without slipping on the slick road beneath her. She was mid-stretch when she grabbed her bearings and looked around her.Uh, Ewan?Hold on, dear.Ewan, where are we?She heard nothing but a window rolling down and Ewan uttering to the driver as he stepped from behind the cab, strangely elated and with a spring to his step.Heh, thats the thing.Thats what thing? Ewan, Im worried.No, no, thats the thing with cell phones these days, he came upon the curb Robyn was standing on, we cant just, you know, hang up on people. Its never really final, he grabbed her hand and started walking to across the field, It always has to be some procedure, you tap the phone icon, you press the lock button, you cant just nip a conversation in the bud.Babe, what are you getting at?This! This is what I am getting at; I love you. It took me forever to admit that I love you, but I did and I do, Ewan knew that this short stint of bravado was soon to wear off so he had to get to the point quick, marriage isnt even a big deal anymore, it used to just be a father trading his property for someone elses propertyOh my Lord, Robyn grasped into her sweater-cupped hands.And that is fine, its just that dammit, it was wearing off, you know I love you, right? She nodded a face of two dilated pupils and a pinched mouth.And that is fine, its just that dammit, I dont mean to lay blame on her, and Im not really, but your mom is one hell of a barrier of entry.He paused when he thought he heard a door opening around him, but you are more than worth it. Its just embarrassing some old, decrepit painter and some shoddy harbour in Italy to remind me of how goddamn lucky I am.His pitch grew high and his eyes, disobedient. While Ewan fumbled through his pant pocket, he feigned a coughing fit to give him time to find himself. Robyn, this is not saying that I am in love with you, this is just me looking for another way to show you.Ewan pulled out a small, black, velvet box and got down on one knee, RobynEwan, the answer has been yes for half a decade, and she leapt into him, wrapping her legs around his waist and knocking them both onto the same wet grass and mud that they spilled coffee on, fed a duck on, had their first kiss on.After both running out of tears and kisses to give they rested under that sycamore tree,; Robyn on his shoulders and their fingers interwoven. He did not know how long she had been there, but it was the clink of a champagne flute that alerted Ewan to John and Lynda sharing Ewans plan B in the parking lot.- 15 -