Intaglio: The Snake and the Coins (18 page)

Chim sneered.

“Kinda looks
like Lego blocks to me...” he muttered, eyebrows pulled together, “very, very
messy Lego blocks.”

Ava coughed in
annoyance.  Cole laughed into his hand, pretending he was choking, his
cheeks bright with colour.

“Thanks for the
interpretation,
Clem,
” Ava said tartly, then turned back to the
canvas.  “To be honest, I don’t know what it is.”  She sighed
wistfully.  “Nothing maybe.”

Chim was right
to a degree.  There was definitely something structural about the
shapes.  They were created from sharp lines and distinct angles; the
central canvas of the triptych was covered in bands of blue, hazy light, almost
like smoke.  From the outside, deep shadows hinted at the solid structure
of rectangular forms.  Suzanne stared at the painting intently.

“It’s an old
city...” she said.  “The streets crumbling under the weight of time.”

A shiver ran
through Ava.  There was something to the way Suzanne had spoken that left
the others quiet.

“Why would you
think that?” she asked warily.

 “See here,
and here...” Suzanne said in wonder, pointing to several smudges of
paint.  “Those lines are the edges of buildings.  They’re damaged,
but still standing...”  Chim leaned forward, squinting while Suzanne’s
voice continued.   “The point of view is skewed.… Like the viewer is
way down on the ground, peering up into the sky above.”

“Maybe,” Ava
muttered, stepping closer and tipping her head.  She
could
imagine
looking up from the bottom of an alley, struggling to catch sight of the
sky.  “But it’s pretty dark for a city, Sue.  No church towers or
landmarks or—”

“It’s the slums,
Ava,” Suzanne interrupted in excitement. “Yes!  That’s exactly what it is…
I’d say an old European city… the rough area down by the wharf.”  Her
words came faster.  “See?  That
is
what it is!  It’s the
area near the shipyards.”

Chim was leaning
forward, and Ava was, too.  What Suzanne was saying made sense, but a part
of Ava was hesitant to admit it.  It felt too
exposing,
somehow, if
she did.

“I dunno,” Ava
whispered, “It might be...”

“Look,” Suzanne
prompted.  “Here and here: that’s a broken bit of the sea wall.  This
bit over here in the distance is a bridge of some kind.  See those
arches?  And these lines at the bottom… where the viewer is going? 
They’re the masts of ships!”  She let out a happy cackle.  “If you
look at it like you’re standing down on the bottom of the painting then it
all
makes sense.  The image is just shown from the centre of a narrow
street, looking upward as you near the wharf.”

Suzanne
continued unabated.  Ava stared at the panels, wondering why it suddenly
felt so
real
to her.  It wasn’t the first time that an unusual
perspective had turned up in one of her paintings.  (The snake and the
coins painting was from far above, with the blue water and golden trees hanging
underneath.)  For a moment something pushed at the edge of her
awareness.  Something
almost there…
But the harder she tried to
grasp it, the further away it was. 
The feeling scared her.
 
Bacon’s painting with the wings flashed in her mind and Ava shuddered. 
‘A
warning...’

“See?  The
wharf with the lines of barrels, and boxes… and here’s water… and in the
distance, the ships and—”

“Nope. 
Can’t see it,” Chim announced, interrupting Suzanne, “but I like your light and
shadows, Booker.  The chiaroscuro kind of looks like a Chagall to me.”

Ava blinked, the
feeling of unease receding.

“It’s not done,”
she admitted, “I’m just doing the base work.  Kip will probably do a bunch
of graphic stuff on top.  Sort of like your paintings, Chim.  This’ll
be hidden underneath.”

It was the way
graffiti worked, of course, and Ava knew that.  She was still going to be
sad to see this all disappear, especially now that Suzanne’s words had her
seeing a bigger picture.  She
wanted this
image to survive. 
It
meant
something to her… the way all her paintings did.

“I think
your
work
should be the stuff on top,” Cole said with a nod.  He leaned
back on the couch, one arm thrown behind his head, watching Ava.  His arm
was in relief at this angle, the heavily muscled lines even more distinct than
usual.  She stepped off her stool and walked over to the couch, hips
swinging suggestively.

“You’re
completely biased, Cole Thomas.”  Her words came out in a throaty
purr. 

He reached up,
grabbing her fingertips and tugging her forward.  As always, she tugged
back for a split second.  The chase was half the fun with Cole.  His
eyes narrowed as she did.

“Doesn’t mean
I’m not
right
,” he growled, his eyes – their light and dark contrast
striking in the dim studio – moving from her face to her lips and then
breasts.  “Kip’s stuff is shit compared to yours.”

Chim chuckled
and shifted over on the couch as Cole tugged hard on Ava’s hand.  She
tumbled forward, sliding onto the cushions between the two of them.  She
shrieked with laughter as Cole grabbed her.

“God, Cole,” Ava
giggled, “I could be working with Eric Fischl and you’d
still
say that.”

“Fischl can’t
paint hands,” he said smugly.

Ava elbowed him.

“Fine… then
Lucian Freud.”

“Creepy purple
people?” he said, raising an eyebrow.  “Nope.  Your painting is
still
better.”

He leaned into
Ava, nuzzling her neck.  She twisted in his arms to see him.

“You’d say that
no
matter
who
I was painting with.”

Cole’s eyes
glinted mischievously.

“Nah...” he
said, raising an eyebrow.  “If it was Marcus here, I’d probably say
his
painting
was better.”

Ava’s barking
laughter echoed in the room and she leaned away from Cole to punch Chim twice
in the arm.

“You fucking
dared
him
to say that, didn’t you?” she accused in mock-anger.

Marcus began to
laugh, moving out of her reach, before joining Suzanne at the easel. He slid an
arm over her shoulders, the two of them the same height as she perched on the
stool.

“Not even going
there, guys,” he said with a snort.  “Though I’m glad to see Thomas here
has good taste.”  He looked back to the three canvases again. 
“Seriously, Ava…
Lego?”

Cole and Suzanne
both burst into laughter as Ava surged forward, ready to attack.  Cole was
faster.  He wrapped his arms and legs around her, forcing her to stay
where she was, muffling his laughter in her hair.  She swivelled, giving
him a dirty look over her shoulder.

“You should
not
be harassing me when we’re about to spend four whole days with your
family,” Ava taunted, eyes sparkling.  “You owe me
big time
for
that.”

Cole grinned.

“Yeah… and
you’re never gonna let me forget it,” he teased, leaning in to nip her neck.

Suzanne finally
stood, stretching and moving toward the door where her coat hung on a metal
hook.  Around them, the remaining partygoers were doing the same thing,
the studio quickly emptying.

“Well, I think
it’s nice that you’re spending the holidays with your family,” she said with a
sigh.  “God knows I can hardly get Marcus home at the best of times.”

Chim slipped on
his heavy jacket and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the top of her head.
They walked together toward the exit.

“Not true. 
I just think they like me better in small doses.”

Everyone laughed
at that blatantly true statement and Chim and Suzanne made it to the
doorway.  Behind them, the stairs were visible.  Marcus glanced back
one last time, shaking his head at the sight of Cole and Ava tangled together
on the couch. 

“Well, guys,
we’re gonna run,” Suzanne said with a sigh.  “Plane leaves at ten-thirty
tomorrow, but we have to be there a couple hours early.  We should get
some sleep while we can.”

“Be safe,” Ava
called out, squirming as Cole’s hands began to roam up her torso.  He
peeked over her shoulder.

“Check Chim’s
bag yourself before you get to the airport,” Cole advised in mock
seriousness.  Marcus smirked.

They were just
about to step down the first stair, when Suzanne turned back, calling through
the still-open doorway.

 “So are
you guys leaving tomorrow, too?”

Cole groaned.

“Not tomorrow,
no… but early next week,” Ava answered.  “We’re there for four days.
Leaving the day after Christmas and heading back.”

Chim laughed,
crossing his arms.

“You really have
no idea what you’re getting into, taking Ava Brooks to meet your parents, do
you, man?”

This time, Cole
wasn’t fast enough to stop her.  Ava was up and off the couch in a
heartbeat, chasing Chim down the stairs, swearing and raining punches down on
him at the same time.  They could be heard laughing and scuffling on the
landing together. 
“Take it back!”
 Ava snarled. 
“I’ll
punch you again, you little shit!” 
Marcus’ laughter rose into
high-pitched hoots. 
“Jesus, Ava!  That fucking hurts! 
Uncle!  Uncle!”
There was the sound of someone bumping into the wall,
another punch, more laughter. 
“Then take it back!”

Suzanne, waiting
patiently at the top of the stairs, glanced over to Cole. 

“Oh, I think you
know
exactly
what you’re doing,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

He nodded, his
expression growing cool and distant.

“You bet I do.”

Given the cold
and snowy weather, they took Ava’s truck instead of Cole's bike to the Thomas
house.  Cole’s father and stepmother lived three hours away from the city,
in an affluent, semi-rural coastal development.  As Ava drove, Cole told
her how he had spent his childhood out on the water, learning to swim and surf,
practically living on their boat during summer.  With each passing hour,
he grew quieter. By the time they were driving along the jagged coastline, he
was staring out the window, tensed and wary.

“You gonna be
okay?” Ava asked quietly, her fingers tight on the wheel.

Cole looked at
her.  The lines around his eyes were there again, the ones she recognized
from that night at the gallery.  He forced a wan smile.

“It’ll be better
with you there,” he said. 

She nodded and
he reached out, running his finger along her cheek.  Ava turned up the
radio, trying desperately to quell her anxiety.   Half an hour later,
Cole spoke again.

“That’s it
there,” he muttered irritably.  “You’ll see the sign near the gate.”

They could see
the Thomas home from the highway, and Ava absorbed details before they
arrived.  The Thomas home was a two-story Cape Cod-style manse with white
trim and a deep front porch wrapping around the house.  It was the kind of
place where you sat on a porch swing and drank lemonade in summertime.  A
place for dinner parties and barbeques… or Christmas holidays like this. 
Traditional and elegant, the house reminded Ava of homes she’d seen in
magazines with columned partitions and shuttered windows.  Even the
twinkling Christmas lights and the decorative greenery were tastefully
done. 

‘
Perfect...’

She frowned,
remembering the two-bedroom, one bathroom apartment she shared with her
dad.  She’d never felt embarrassed of where she came from… not until
today. Cole might be attending art school on a scholarship — (a fact that made
her wonder if his decision to attend was against his father’s wishes) — but it
was obvious that he came from money.

The property was
well-tended, with pruned hedges and shovelled walkways.  Manicured trees
broke up the lawn at intervals and flowerbeds, now covered with snow, protruded
alongside the drive.  The warm grey structure with its red-bricked base faced
the ocean on one side and had a low-sloping lawn on the other.  There were
decorative ribbons on the two brick pillars marking the main entrance. 
Someone had obviously spent many years making this house a showpiece. 

“Looks nice and
festive,” Ava said brightly. 

There was no
answer.

She took a peek
at Cole. He was slumped low in his seat, his knee jiggling.  The silence
dragged on until Ava turned the truck onto the main drive.

“Very
Christmas-y,” Ava muttered, half to herself. 

“That’s Nina’s
doing,” Cole answered dully.

Ava carefully
drove down the wide driveway, wondering absently who plowed it in the
winter.  The upkeep had to be enormous to keep a property this extensive
looking picture-perfect.  Parking at the house, her eyes darted around,
capturing final details.  She felt like she had at Kip Chambers’ after
party, trying desperately to be something (or someone) she wasn’t.  She
noticed a flag on the front lawn.