The Muse (5 page)

            The woman laughed and put down her sketchpad and pencil in order to wipe her hands on the legs of her trousers.  She was wearing overalls that had a few smudges of paint here and there, a T-shirt beneath that had been white at one time, and a bright red scarf around her raven-colored hair.  Her attire was meant to be cute and playful but succeeded only in looking sloppy for a woman her age.  In chinos, a button-up shirt, and a velvet vest, Gibson looked much more professional.

            “This isn't my train station,” she said.  “You have just as much right to be here as I do.  Besides, nothing wrong with a little healthy competition.  That's what makes business flourish.”

            Gibson nodded.  “I realize that, but I make my living from my art just like you do.  I understand how territorial this kind of business is.  Normally, I setup in The Square.  I just wanted a change of pace today.  This seemed like a good place to make camp.  Guess you think so too, huh?”

            “It's a great place to find people to sketch,” she said.  “And there's no problem on my end.  Always glad to meet a fellow patron of the arts.  I'm Josie by the way.”

            “Gibson.  Nice to meet you.  You're very talented.”

            “Gibson, huh.  They make good guitars....and from the look of it, good art.”

            Gibson laughed, genuinely intrigued.  “Come here every day?”

            “Pretty much.  The good thing about this place is that you never see the same people.  Things are always changing around here.  Tourists still come through here which provide the majority of my business.  But there are others too.  Businessmen looking to impress their girlfriends.  Boyfriends in need of a last minute gift on their way home.  I bail a lot of men out.”

            “I thought I could get away from that crowd by coming here.  Guess love frequents the train station too.”

            “I don't know of any place you can go to escape it,” Josie replied with a smirk.  “Not sure why you'd even want to.  Love makes the world go round.”

            “Spoken like a woman who has a good man,” Gibson said.

            “Nope,” Josie said.  “I’m as single as can be.”

            Gibson studied Josie while she spoke.  She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't ugly either.  Average would have been a good way to describe her.  She wasn't fat nor was she thin.  Again, average.  She looked like she had been cloned from the gene for normality.  There was nothing extraordinary about her, and yet, Gibson liked her immediately.  Josie seemed to like him too.  However, Gibson liked her in the way that you like a new food you've never tried before.  There's a sense of excitement because it's unfamiliar, and it's enjoyable enough the first time yet not so enjoyable as to warrant a second tasting.  Josie, on the other hand, had her eyes set on a seven-course meal. 

            “So why were you looking to get away from The Square for a while?” Josie asked.  “Tired of the street mimes?”

            “Just needed a change of pace,” Gibson said.  “Needed some new scenery.”

            “I understand that,” she replied.  “Although I have to say that you are a breath of fresh air as far as I'm concerned.  The scenery looks good from here.”

            Gibson blushed a little, unsure of how to respond to that.  He wasn’t used to women flirting with him.

            “How about we draw each other?” Josie said, quickly filling in the silence before it became awkward.  “Let's see how good we really are.  Have a little test of our abilities.”

            Gibson shrugged his shoulders.  “Ok, sure, why not?  I'll draw you and you draw me.”

            Josie smiled at him, and there was something a little too eager in her smile, something that was needy and expectant.  Something that frightened Gibson.  Josie seemed nice enough, but he wasn't interested in her.  His mind kept going back to Faith.  Maybe it was because he couldn't have her.  Maybe that's why Josie didn't interest him.  She seemed too available, too willing.  There was no challenge there.  

            Faith, however, was a mystery, a puzzle to be unlocked.  Of course, thinking he had a chance with her was foolish.  He had seen that first hand.  Just the thought of seeing that guy outside her door was enough to make Gibson feel a little worse than he should have.  The guy had money, status, class.  Gibson had none of those things.  All he had was a good heart, a small bank account, and a little bit of talent.  That wasn’t the kind of bait needed to hook a woman like Faith.  Still, he couldn't keep his mind from going there.  He decided to focus on sketching Josie instead of thinking about Faith.  Maybe he could lose himself in the activity for a while and forget all about his problems.  Josie could be his distraction.   

            He realized that wasn't true, however, as he began to draw...and be drawn.

            Josie kept peeking at him over her sketchbook.  Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and it was clear she liked him, which in itself was a little strange since they had just met.  Every time she would look up at him and he would meet her gaze, she would snicker to herself and avert her eyes like some grade-school crush who is embarrassed to show how she really feels.  Gibson felt awkward, like an amoeba being studied under a microscope.  He wanted to hide from her gaze, but he couldn’t. 

            Instead, he focused on the blank page in front of him, filling it with detail, drawing lines and shading to capture Josie in the best possible light.  Gibson was done with his sketch in ten minutes while Josie took considerably longer.  It didn't take a genius to realize that she was savoring the opportunity to study him without any stigma attached.  In the interest of art, she could stare at him as long as she wanted and have a perfectly legitimate excuse for doing so.

            At last, she put down her pencil and sketchpad and smiled at him.  “Ok, let's see what you've got,” she said.  “We'll show each other at the same time.”

            Gibson nodded and returned her smile.  “On three,” he said.  “One, two, three!”

            They turned their sketchpads over at exactly the same time.  Gibson's drawing of Josie was a lifelike representation, capturing the warmth in her smile, the desire in her eyes, and the rosy glow in her cheeks.  The picture of her was a happy one, and anyone who looked at it could immediately tell that she didn't let her problems overshadow the good things in life.  Gibson's portrait was equally revealing. 

            Josie was every bit as good an artist as Gibson.  Where Gibson went for realism and fine detail, however, Josie went for caricature.  She drew him as a pensive, brooding, frowning creature with an obvious disdain for life.  The scowl on his face was exaggerated as were all of his other features.  The drawing was unmistakably him.  Even down to the expression.  It wasn't a good picture, but it was a realistic one.

            “Do I really look that depressed?” he asked, laughing in spite of himself.  “Maybe I need to work on my image.”

            “Sorry, but that's what I see,” Josie said.  “It's a shame too.  You seem like a good guy.”

            “I am a good guy,” Gibson said, mildly irritated.

            “Maybe it’s hard to see all of the goodness if you build a wall so high that people can’t see over or around it.”

            “I’m not guarded,” Gibson protested.

            “Are you sure about that?”

            “I’m an open book.”

            “An open book containing pages filled with invisible ink?”

            “That’s not fair,” Gibson said.  “You’re judging me.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

            “I don't even really know you,” Gibson replied, feeling his mood going even more further south by the minute. 

            “We could change all of that,” Josie said with a mischievous grin.  “How about we grab a coffee and get to know each other?  Let me see what makes Gibson, the brooding artist, tick.”

            “I don’t brood.”

            “You’re brooding now,” Josie noted.  “Your brow is furrowed.  You’re frowning at me.  You’re brooding.  Trust me.”

            “I’m sorry,” Gibson said.  “I don’t mean to.  Maybe it’s subconscious.”

            “It’s ok,” Josie said, patting him playfully on the hand.  “So how about that coffee?”

            Gibson studied this girl carefully.  Was she asking him out on a date?  He was pretty sure he was reading the signs correctly.  She seemed interested in him.  Was he interested in her? 

            The fact that he had to ask himself that question was answer enough.  She seemed like a decent enough person.  Yet, he felt no connection with her, no spark.  Still, he knew he was a pitiful judge when it came to love.  Maybe she was extraordinary and he was simply too jaded to notice.  Maybe he needed to give this a try.  Had he built a wall around himself that protected him, yet kept everyone at arm’s length.  She had pointed as much out. 

            She had pointed a lot of things out for that matter, despite the fact that she didn't really know him.  He didn't like how forward she was or how blunt.  He didn't like her assuming nature.  He didn't like feeling as if he was being profiled.  Yet, he liked being alone a lot less.  Maybe he needed to take a chance and see what happened.   

            He had been playing it safe for far too long.  He wasn’t sure that Josie was for him, but he knew that going to coffee with her would be a good thing.  If nothing else, it might help him break out of his comfort zone.  He was stuck in a rut now, and the situation required desperate measures to get out of that rut. 

            “Sure, why not,” he said with a smile.  “Coffee sounds good.”

            “I know a place,” Josie replied.  “It's not far from here.”

            Someone had thought it would be cute to name their coffee shop, Grounded.  It was a place for hipsters and should have appealed to someone with an artistic flair like Gibson.  However, these kinds of places made him irritable.  So many people trying to look important with their smart phones, Ipads, laptops, and books by Kierkegaard.  Very few people inside the bistro even seemed to care about coffee.  The java in a place like this was an afterthought.  People came here for the ambience.  People came here because it was the intellectual thing to do.  People came here to look sophisticated on a date because that's exactly the sort of vibe you wanted to present when meeting someone of the opposite sex.  Gibson would have suggested a different place if not for the fact that Josie seemed so excited. 

            She ordered a double espresso which seemed fitting, and Gibson ordered a black coffee, also fitting.  Once they had their drinks, Josie found a corner table near the window and motioned for him to sit.  Gibson felt a little bit odd.  This wasn't the way things were supposed to work.  The girl wasn't supposed to ask the guy out.  The guy was supposed to take charge.  And yet, in the span of an hour, Josie had flirted with him, asked him out on a date, and was now showing him to their table.  It didn't seem right.  Maybe he was old-fashioned.  Maybe she was liberated. 

            “So tell me about yourself,” she said, beginning the interrogation. 

            Gibson took a sip from his steaming cup.  “Not much to tell. I'm an artist as you already know.  I live in a flat near The Square.  I don't really have any hobbies to speak of.  I don't enjoy long walks on the beach or crossword puzzles.  I'm an Aries.  I'm pretty boring actually.”

            “I doubt that,” Josie replied, pushing a strand of dark hair back over her ear.  “You don't seem the least bit boring.”

            Gibson studied her carefully.  “Why do you say that?”

            “I can tell there is a lot going on in that head of yours that is looking for a way out.  You're a deep thinker.”

            “Sometimes I think too much,” he admitted.  “What about you?  What's your story?”

            Josie smiled.  “I'm an artist too as you've figured out.  I went to art school, had dreams of having my work featured in galleries, becoming rich and famous.  Instead, I draw people at the train station.  Do you have any training?”

            “Self taught,” Gibson said.  “I started out imitating the stuff I saw in comic books as a boy.  I got pretty good at drawing and eventually moved on to painting.  I've done a little bit of sculpture, but canvas and oil is still my medium of choice.  So what brought you to the city?  Are you from here?”

            Josie sipped her espresso and nodded.  “I've lived here all my life.  What about you?”