Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
Thank your for the emails. I appreciate even a short, "I'm reading your story," goes a long way.
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My thanks go out to Zachary Kordus for proofreading this chapter.
Kim ----------
Ring in Mine: John Chapter 4
John was unwilling to go the regular route into the art show. He no longer trusted the adults at the school, much like he didn't trust his father. He did learn one thing from his father. Sometimes you can use connections to get what you want. John remembered the gentleman with connections at the college. Sister Terrion had connections in the Art Department at the university. Maybe he could enlist her help. John watched for two weeks hoping Brother or Sister Terrion would put in a appearance at church. He was about to give up hope when John literally bumped into him, or he bumped into John.
John was getting ready to leave the restroom at church when the door opened suddenly, knocking John to the floor.
"I am so sorry." Brother Terrion said as he helped the young man to his feet. It was then that he recognized his victim. "John are you alright?"
"Believe it or not, getting knocked to the floor is the answer to a prayer." John began. "I have been trying to find you for the last couple of weeks."
"Well since I knocked you to the floor how may I help you?" Brother Terrion asked.
There in the church bathroom, sitting on the bench used to change diapers, John told this semi stranger about the Spelling Bee and then the Science Fair.
"Your story disturbs me, but I don't know how I can help." Brother Terrion said puzzled.
"That's all water under the bridge, my mom always says." John paused for a moment. "My new dilemma is the district art show. If I let the teachers decide what to send to the show, I don't stand a chance of entering, let alone winning. It's not really about winning. I have a couple of really good pieces that I would like to display somewhere besides inside my closet."
"Now that is something that I might be able to help with. My wife is a professor of Art and is part of the committee that produces the show. I think she would be willing to pull a few strings." John was now smiling. "I am leaving town tomorrow for two weeks. When can she see these pieces?"
"We could do it now or after church. If you want to?" John suggested.
It was a happy young man that informed his mother that Brother Terrion was going to get his paintings into the art show. "He is going to pick up the pieces right after church."
Mark was ecstatic that he had another chance to have Brother Terrion visit his home. He insisted that Ruth stop at the store to pick up refreshments for their potential guests.
When the Terrions arrived at the door Mark met them still in his church clothes. Mark was usually dressed down and parked in front of the TV seconds after walking through the door on Sunday. John had straightened the living room, throwing all of Mark's coke cans and food wrappers into the garbage. The old pizza box on the coffee table was replaced with a platter of croissants generously filled with chicken salad. An icy pitcher of fruit juice and Sprite joined the delicious looking display.
Mark had given John explicit instructions that he was to take his time bringing out his art work. He was also to bring multiple pieces out and ask their opinion which they thought he should enter, anything that would stretch the visit.
The adults had plenty of time to visit before Sister Terrion suggested she help John look through his pieces.
"John is your room clean?" Ruth asked.
"Mom, of course it's clean." John answered sheepishly. He had kept if picked up just in case for the last three weeks.
"I raised three boys, I understand the different definition of clean used by young men." Professor Terrion explained.
In his room John showed the two pieces he wanted to enter at the district show. The first piece featured Andrew in his baseball uniform stained from a season of hard use. His mitt hung from one hand and he drug his bat behind him, with his cap stuck under his arm. Forlornly the baseball player drug his feet through the multicolored carpet of leaves, with no eyes to the riot of color around him. A CLOSED FOR THE SEASON sign hung on the baseball diamond's fence. The oil based colors bled into your soul with the sadness of a season over.
The Professor stood looking at the beautiful piece. She shared the sadness of the young man. On closer inspection she found the damp trail from eye to chin.
The second piece was similar. The bat was expectantly over Andrew's shoulder, his cap on his head, uniform was brilliantly white and pressed as he watched a maintenance worker raking the infield, bright red against the green lawn waking from its winter sleep. A riot of spring bulb flowers filled the beds either side of the sidewalk. The expectation of new season pulled you into a feeling of hope.
"Have you ever thought of eventually becoming an artist selling your work. These two should be released as prints. They are good on their own but together they are amazing. Do you have the other two seasons?"
The winter picture had the young man sitting in front of a large window oiling his mitt. The dark falling snow outside was countered by the flames in the fireplace. The bat rested in a corner. A fresh uniform still on the hanger hung from a hook next a calendar turned to February. The days clearly crossed out in red.
The summer showed green on the player's knees and plenty of red infield on his leg as he slid into second base. The ball not yet in the second baseman's glove. The idea of full stands in the background. The energy excited the viewer.
"I love them all. You've really developed your skill since the State Fair." She was eyeing a stack of canvases leaning against the wall in the closet. Her hand had pulled the first forward before she asked permission. The canvases were safe. He prayed that she wouldn't notice the large brown portfolio against the wall. His dad wouldn't understand some of them at all.
She pulled a couple of pieces out of the stack and added them to the four already on the bed. These also featured Andrew. John had a built in model. Both images had Andrew dressed in John's gymnastic clothes. In one he stood on the top podium, medals raised high in his hand, above his head.
The second portrayed John after being rejected by his father, medals were now an immense weight pulling his head toward the ground, dragging his jacket behind him.
John's heart dropped as she pulled the huge folder from the closet. She untied the string, lifting the flap. Se looked at the first piece.
"John, would you close the door. I feel you are embarrassed by these." Sister Terrion intuited. "You shouldn't be. These are good."
"I have enough trouble convincing my dad I not gay. It started when I drew Andrew in his swimming suit. If I am going to be a real artist I have to learn how to draw nudes." John explained. "The sad part is that his parents are alright with it. They have one similar to the batter painting hanging in their bedroom."
As Joyce Terrion searched for the mentioned batter painting, John paused and looked at the ground in shame.
"If dad saw these he would beat me raw and throw me out." John tried to explain. "The only reason he lets me paint is to impress Brother Terrion. Dad is a good coach. He would love a position on the college's coaching staff."
Many were obviously the artist fine tuning his skill. The last three were amazing.
The first was a young man in batting helmet, socks and jock with his bat ready to swing. It was done in pencil and charcoal. The second was naked with one foot on a box; Andrew's genitals hidden in the artful pose. The third showed everything. In none of them could the model be identified. Each piece clearly showed the softer lines of youth.
"I have students majoring in art that aren't this good. May I borrow these for awhile. They aren't for the district show. I have a different idea altogether for these."
John not quite sure how to handle honest praise, just nodded his head.
"I'll put in a good word for your dad." She offered.
With full arms the two artists made their way to the Terrion's van.
Mark and Brother Terrion were wolfing down croissants while watching football. John looked at the clock. They had been in his bedroom for over an hour.
"Are we ready to go? You have an early flight tomorrow." The professor reminded her husband.
"It's nearly halftime." He responded. It was a full forty minutes later before they could break away from the game. To John it looked like they were bonding.
As Brother Terrion opened the door for his wife, she was struck with an idea. With just a little manipulation she could get the desired results. Turning back to the house, her husband followed.
"Brother and Sister Litchfield, I teach an art class in the studio in my home one evening a week for the university." She paused letting a question form in their minds. "John is as good if not better than some of my students. I would like to invite him to attend. I will waive the tuition. He would be responsible for his own materials, though."
Mark was torn. He didn't want his son doing anything that might identify him as potentially gay.
"I know my husband would be disappointed if John couldn't join the class." The glare at her husband had him agreeing with her in moments. "I also want to have a gallery owner I know look at some of his works. I am sure there is a couple he would like to display."
Mark didn't like where this was going at all.
"I don't want notoriety to upset his studies. If his art is going to be on display, it should be under another name." Mark felt he was being clever. Joyce Terrion felt he was playing right into her plans.
"John, be thinking of your artist name. It would be good for your admirers not to associate your work with a pre-teenager, and there will be admirers."
Joyce shook Mark's hand. Ruth gave her a hug.
"John, for this first time I will have Gerald pick you up at 6:30 on Tuesday. He will bring you home at about 10:00" Joyce led the way out the door before there could be any objections.
Mark had heard the veiled threat of Gerald bring disappointed. He would make sure John was at class. Even if he had to drop him off. This would deepen ties that would lead to coaching at the college.
John couldn't believe his luck. He was going to be in an advanced Art class and his dad would at least on the surface be supportive. The timing was good. Tuesday was now his art class after school at the center. It never went late unlike gymnastics.
My posting for this story is going to be intermittent. It is Medicare Open enrollment. If you would like to be notified when a new chapter is available drop me a line. ringinmine@yahoo.com