Arousing Love, a teen novel (22 page)

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth about
anything, and don’t shelter me from it. It just makes me worry more
and start to think the worst, that you’ve lost interest in me or
something.”

“I’m not going to lose interest in you. A
love like this doesn’t just go away like that.”

“You can be honest with me and tell me
anything.”

“Alright.”

We were both silent for a while, then she
spoke in a whimsical voice. “Do you remember sitting on the beach,
cuddling up to each other? I miss that so much, just being there
with you.”

“Yeah, me too. I miss holding you close.”

“I miss our talks, and your kisses.” She
giggled. “Remember our first date? It was so much fun.”

“Everything was fun with you. There’s no fun
without you.”

“Zach, if you want me to, I could come back
there for the rest of summer.”

“How could you do that? Your parents would
never let you.”

“We’ll run away together. It’ll be
romantic.”

I realized she was fantasizing, and I decided
to play along. “Yeah, we’ll live on a tropical island by
ourselves.”

She laughed. “You’ll hunt for food and I’ll
cook it for you. You can make me a little house.”

“We won’t wear any clothes, and we’ll go
skinny dipping all the time.”

She laughed. “That would be paradise.”

“I’ll be your Adam and you’ll be my Eve.”

“I’ll give you all my love. I’ll make you so
happy.”

My heart was starting to ache. “Let’s not
talk like this anymore.”

“I know. I better go. I’ve been talking too
long already.”

“Hey Joanna, I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah. It’s hard letting you go.”

“I know.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

There was a click and she was gone.

•••

“Zach, this came in the mail for you.” My dad
pushed an envelope under my door. “It looks important.”

I picked it up off the floor. It looked like
another college letter. I ripped it opened.

Dear Zach,

This year we’ve had an
overwhelming response to our full art scholarship award. Out of
more than 20,000 applicants, we have selected you, along with nine
others, as finalists for this year’s program. We will be
interviewing each finalist to determine the recipients of this
year’s scholarship award. You will need to schedule an interview
with us through our office between now and August 11. Please bring
original artworks with you to the interview for us to
evaluate.

Our college of fine art is
considered one of the most prestigious art schools in the country.
Our professors and faculty are among the most well known and highly
esteemed of their respective fields.

The scholarships will
include full tuition for a four-year arts degree program, as well
as some living expenses including an accommodation allowance. We
reserve two places each year for our scholarship students. If you
applied to our college and were not accepted, this scholarship
provides you with another chance to gain a place in this year’s
class.

We heartily congratulate
you for being chosen as a finalist among so many of your peers. It
is no small achievement, and you can consider yourself to be among
the very best of your high school level contemporaries in art. We
wish you the best of luck. Further questions can be directed to the
office of the Dean of Admissions.

We look forward to meeting
you soon.

It was signed by the dean of the college.

I sat there completely stunned. This was my
first choice school that I’d just got a rejection from. I
remembered something about all applications being included for
assessment in their scholarship program.

I was still stunned. I couldn’t believe it.
This was supposed to be one of the hardest art schools to get into
in the country. I thought about ringing Joanna,
she’ll be so
excited. But maybe I shouldn’t tell her yet. What if I don’t get
it? There are ten people going for two places. I don’t want to
raise her hopes only to crush them again. But what if I do get
it?
I was trying not to let myself get too excited, but I
couldn’t help it, hope was inflating in me like a hot air balloon.
This is so huge! I have to believe this is God’s will for us.
This is the very best he had for me all along. Thank you God! Your
ways are always greater than ours. You know what’s best for us, we
just have to trust in you.

I needed to tell somebody. I ran to the house
to find my parents, bursting in on them in the kitchen.

“I’m a finalist for a scholarship to an art
school in Colorado! I have to go to an interview and if I get it,
it pays for all my tuition and some living expenses as well! It’s
one of the best art schools in the country.”

My parents just stared at me.

“Look.” I showed them the letter.

“When is the interview?” My mom sounded
overly cautious, which grated against my euphoria.

“I have to ring them and set a date for
it.”

“How are you going to get there? It’s a long
way.” My mom was quickly squashing my enthusiasm.

“Do you think you could lend me some money
for the airfare?”

“What’s wrong with the art schools here? Why
didn’t you discuss this with us before you applied to something so
far away?” She genuinely sounded unhappy about it.

“But Mom, this is like the opportunity of a
lifetime. It’s one of the best art schools, and they’ll pay all my
tuition for a four year degree.”

“This is about that girl I suppose. She’s
from Colorado isn’t she?” My dad spoke for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s why I applied there. We’ll be
living in the same town if I get this scholarship.”

“You really care for this girl then,
obviously.”

“Yeah I do.”

He frowned and nodded. “I’ll give you the
money.”

“Really?” I hadn’t expected him to be the
supportive one.

“It’s about time you got off your butt and
did something with your life.”

I smiled. “Thanks Dad.”

“But Son, you do realize there’s no surfing
in Colorado?”

“Yeah, but they have snowboarding.” I
grinned.

Eleven

We were due to land, and I was getting more
and more excited and nervous. I hadn’t told Joanna I was coming, I
wanted to surprise her. I’d set my interview date for the same day
as her birthday, and I was just going to show up to her party
afterwards.
She’s gonna be so surprised to see me.
I almost
laughed at the thought of it.
I can’t wait to see her.

The plane landed, and I got my bags, checking
that my paintings had survived the trip okay, before catching a
taxi to the college.

I had to wait in the lobby outside the dean’s
office. I was so nervous now, my whole future rested on this
interview.
God, give me peace and confidence, and help me to say
the right things.
I took a deep breath.
I just have to be
myself and let him do the rest.
I took another slow, steady
breath.
I just hope I don’t say the wrong thing and ruin
everything.

Finally, the receptionist called me. “Zach,
you can go in now.” I stood, and my legs felt a little wobbly. I
left my bags with the receptionist, and gathering my paintings, I
walked through the door.
Don’t say anything stupid,
I
chanted silently to myself.

There was no one in the room, and I wondered
if I’d come to the right place. Then a door opened at the far end
of the room, and a tall, distinguished man came through it.

“You must be Zach, pleased to meet you. I’m
Dean Randle.” We shook hands, and he ushered me towards the door
he’d come through. “I’ll introduce you to the others.”

I followed him into another room. There was a
large desk with a man and woman seated at it. “This is the director
of our fine arts program, Professor Harris.” He indicated the other
man. Professor Harris stood up and shook my hand. “And this is
Professor Langstrom, who lectures in art history and portraiture.”
She stood and shook my hand as well. “Take a seat, Zach.”

I sat down, feeling very small behind that
big desk and before such academic luminaries.

“Well Zach, we were very impressed with the
slides you sent us of your work completed during high school. Do
you have anything more recent we could have a look at?” Professor
Harris glanced towards the canvases I’d placed beside me.

“Yes, I brought ten originals, all of them
were painted this year.” With shaky hands, I placed my unframed
canvases on the desk in front of them, and they held them up one at
a time to examine them.

“This is amazing work for someone so young.”
One of the men said, not directed at me. “Look at this.” He passed
the painting on to the woman professor.

“This is very interesting, Zach. Can you tell
me about this one?” She turned the painting so I could see it. It
was the painting of Joanna as a fading memory.

“That’s a portrait of my girlfriend in a
moment of doubt about our future.”

“Really? This is so interesting. You made her
face extremely faint, as if you have no real idea who she is. At
that moment you just don’t know. The eyes and mouth are especially
wonderful. Is she smiling or scowling? But what you do know is that
she’s staring at you, studying you intently, because she’s asking
the exact same questions of you. You are both a mystery to each
other. Your painting captures that moment perfectly. It’s a classic
painting of human experience.”

I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the
meaning of what I’d painted, but I wasn’t about to tell them
that.

“You’ve painted this young woman quite often,
I see.”

“Yes.” Several of my paintings were of
Joanna. She looked at me curiously as if waiting for an
explanation. “Uh, she’s
. . .
I’m
. . .
we’re
. . .
I
. . .
love her.” I felt embarrassed.

She smiled. “Yes, I see that coming through
in these other paintings. But this one is so fascinating to me.”
She pointed again to the fading Joanna.

“I agree, it is a fascinating portrait,”
Professor Harris spoke. “The shape of her face is similar to the
African masks that had such an influence on early 20
^th
Century art, such as Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon, and Derain
and Braque. The enigmatic look on her face I can only compare with
the Mona Lisa. It’s one of the better expressionist paintings I’ve
seen in the time I’ve been here. These paintings show a far greater
maturity and emotional depth than your previous work, Zach.”

I was beginning to feel embarrassed by all
this high praise being heaped on my painting. Especially when I
hadn’t meant to reference anything or make it mean what they
thought it did. I’d nearly decided not to bring that painting with
me, it was so personal of how I felt at the time. It was me saying
goodbye to Joanna and to all hope for our future. I only included
it to show some variety in my work.

“So, Zach,” The Professor spoke again, “What
is your philosophy when it comes to your art?”

“My philosophy?”

“Yes, why do you paint what you paint? What
is your art for?” He prompted.

“Well, I guess I’m trying to capture
something
. . .
something perfect
that’s beyond my reach
. . .
but
my art is more than just striving after beauty, I want it to mean
something. To paint something that can communicate a thought or
feeling. I don’t want to create things that have no meaning, that
are random or instinctual. I like to paint with my rational mind,
placing meaning into it that is meant to be there. So I guess my
philosophy is that art is an expression of the soul, and in my
view, the soul expresses itself with purpose and rational
creativity.”

Professor Harris’s eyebrows furrowed. “You
don’t believe the soul can create things instinctually, or add
subconscious meaning that the rational mind doesn’t know or
understand?”

“Well, I know many people believe the soul
can express itself subconsciously in art, but I think this belief
that art magically allows your soul to express itself unconsciously
has meant a lot of art is random and actually has no meaning. It
leads to this whole idea that the meaning of art is whatever the
viewer thinks it is. But I believe the true expression of the soul
is when you consciously express something purposefully. And truly
creative people use their imagination and creative intelligence to
conceive and create. That is a true representation of the soul, not
some random thing that you have to try and interpret later, but
something that has real meaning and has been created with the
purpose of expressing it. When the viewer is the one who finds
meaning in the art rather than the artist placing the meaning in
it, there is no room for art to speak a message and communicate
ideas. I believe we should, as artists, speak to the world through
our art, and communicate real meaning in our art, or else our
medium is wasted and thoughtless and powerless.”

“What about the communicating of emotions?”
Professor Harris asked again.

“Randomness can’t communicate anything in my
opinion. It could be a random attempt at creating beauty, but it
isn’t expressing emotions. The soul can expresses emotions
rationally, isn’t that what poetry is? The rational expression of
the heart? You don’t see a poet randomly write down words and
letters to express his emotions.”

All three of them were just staring at
me.

Then the dean spoke. “Well, you certainly
have some strong opinions, which you’ll be able to explore more
fully in a course of study like this one. Higher learning gives one
the opportunity to gain a broader understanding and widen ones
narrow view.”