The Artists - 1. The First Day, Morning

As the bottom dropped out from under the 737, the young boy in 10A briefly looked out the window at Ontario airport retreating into the grayish brown air. He squinted a bit causing the fat on his forehead to furrow into parallel creases. It was already another smoggy day in the Inland Empire and his house was lost in the morass of urban uniformity below him. He looked further north toward the bigger houses up on the mountains and wondered if any of the kids who lived there wanted to get away from here as much as he did.

It seemed to be actually happening this time. He was almost certain he might get away with it. His escape was practically almost definitely going to come off. All his other attempts had ended in one disaster or another. The private school back East required participation in at least one sport, but he was too many inches shorter than any of the other boys and became the focus of ridicule. Dad’s new wife was a dumb bitch who didn’t like kids, even if they were teenagers, especially if they were teenagers. For all his talk, Uncle Harry was interested in only one thing and Casey was not about to have sex with a pervert just so he could live somewhere other than Rancho Cucamonga. Uncle Harry ended up in jail and Casey ended up back home to grow up in foul air.

Now, all he had to do was get the scholarship administrator to permit him to change majors. All that computer graphics shit might be pretty and might have dazzled the selection committee, whoever they were, but Casey was interested in history, military history. At five foot two, eyes of blue, and nearly two hundred pounds of slippery goo, he was never going to be anywhere close to an M1 Abrams unless he was armed with a PhD. The terms of the scholarship were rather specific about having to be an art major to continue receiving all the benefits, including the room and half-board at Charles House, which someone, who went to North Park College last year, said was called by nearly everyone on campus as Fag House and to live there was to practically admit you were gay.

Casey was fairly certain he wasn’t gay. He was still a little underdeveloped down there, but he knew that was probably due to the extra ninety or so pounds he was lugging around. His body was having enough difficulty just moving to be bothered about ensuring sufficient quantities of testosterone were encouraging his cock to make a man out of him. He didn’t date, didn’t go to the proms, any of them, but he did know a few girls and hung out now and then with one or two almost regularly. Of course, hanging out was not dating and he was smart enough to know the difference.

He was short, which meant he knew all the little kid jokes. Well, he did kind of look like he was a pudgy twelve-year-old, except for the mustache. He didn’t have a lot of whiskers and they were as blond as all the other hairs on his head, but there was a sizeable crop of longish fuzz on his lip that made people give him a second chance at being eighteen. He didn’t pull it off every time, which tended to make him not want to be around people, especially if they were going to laugh at him. A seemingly innocent chuckle burned deep.

He turned on the Shuffle, adjusted the sound until the woman next to him stopped staring at him, and shut his eyes. He was getting out of town one more time and, hopefully, he wouldn’t have to come back, ever.

Six surveyed what remained in the room. This had been his private domain for the past ten years. He’d give anything to take the view of the Willamette River with him, but the photograph he’d blown up and framed was going to have to suffice. His bed was still made up for another night’s sleep that wasn’t going to occur for quite a few weeks, even though North Park was only a little over three hours up I-5. He went over and sat down at his desk.

It felt strange, almost nauseous, having to leave. He stared at the photograph of his best friends Derek, Wendy, and The Dodger, a skinny girl who had a unique ability to avoid getting caught for all the practical jokes she created. They were all going to Portland State. They wanted him to go with them, but the trust fund from his Dad’s uncle gave him a free ride at North Park College and all he had to do was get through the admission process. NPC wasn’t as good as Lewis and Clark, his first choice, but free tuition, room and half-board, plus a weekly allowance for expenses was hard to pass up. His mother, who was going to have to come up with the finances for him to go to any of the other schools, helped him a lot in making the decision.

The photograph of dear old Dad and him caught his eye. They went to Disney World over Christmas vacation when he was in seventh grade. He stared at Dad’s stern face in an unsuccessful exercise of trying to read something in the stiffness his father was starting to exhibit around him. Dad still had inches on him, and, although Six would not catch up, he came close, topping six feet by an inch. Dad still had the brown wave splashing over the arid beach on top of his head, while Six was already in a half-inch crew cut. If anyone looked close, it was plain Six favored his mother more than dear old Dad.

The derision and ridicule wouldn’t start in full force until later that spring when he halfheartedly tried out for the track team and didn’t make it. He rode his bike everywhere, but did very little running. Going out was mostly for show anyway, to show Dad he was interested in being competitive on the field of honor, get that letterman’s jacket no matter what it took. Unfortunately, since his heart wasn’t in it, his body decided it didn’t want the silly jacket either.

“Dirty, little faggot!”

Six winced as the memory burned through his mind, the pain of that was much worse than the slap of Dad’s hand on his cheek. Even though his braces cut the inside of his mouth and blood dribbled down his chin, seeing his mother, his mother the federal prosecutor, give his father a black eye was worth more than having his father give him a spineless apology later that night.

That Thursday evening was the beginning of the end for his parents. By the next Christmas, spent with his mother’s family in Bend, it was just Mom and him living in the house. His next oldest sister, Suzy, was a freshman at OSU, but she was living in a sorority and hardly ever came home, including at Christmas. His older brother, Devon, was in graduate school in California and never came home, but did make a brief appearance in Bend with his girlfriend. His oldest sister, Constance, never, ever Connie, was clerking for a federal judge in Chicago and spent Christmas with Dad. The lines were being drawn. Dad got the girls, Mom got the boys, but when Devon got married a year later, Six was specifically not invited to the wedding. It caused a few words between Devon and their mother, but Six said it was okay.

Six picked up the picture frame and stuffed it into his backpack. It was Dad, after all. It wasn’t all bad, not in the beginning when he was just a sissy little kid who eventually grew out of wanting to play dress up in his sisters’ clothes. At least, that’s what the psychiatrist told his parents; and, he did grow out of it. A kid can only take so much ridicule and the bike Dad bought him was top of the line from a real bike shop. The first of many bikes Dad bought in an attempt to make his youngest son less of a sissy.

He looked at the wood carving he’d done in art in eighth grade. It was done out of a block of teak and showed the Roman numerals VI standing on an Ionic base. He’d gotten an A+ and started telling everyone he wanted to be called Six, instead of David, even though his first name was Kevin. His name was a family tradition that Devon should’ve had, but Devon Arthur had to be named after their mother’s brothers. His grandfather, who died only a year ago from lung cancer, was Kevin David Charles, IV, Dad’s brother, who no one had seen in years because he was supposed to be in a state mental hospital or something, was Kevin David Charles, V, and Six was the latest incarnation. He put the carving in his backpack.

One more memento, one more memory to bring him back home when homesickness began to snake its evil thoughts through his mind. There wasn’t a lot in here that wasn’t already packed away in the two duffle bags and the backpack that held his laptop.

“Six! Are you ready?” Mom called out from the front door. She was going to drive him up because he didn’t have a car. Six didn’t drive. It was his way to diminish his carbon footprint. He wasn’t a tree hugger, but he cared enough to do something. Rain gear and a bicycle were just fine.

Six made one final scan around the room. Was there one more thing he needed? Was there one thing he couldn’t do without? His eyes settled on the framed calligraphy he’d done in tenth grade art. He’d gotten another A+ on it and he was more proud of that work than the wood carving. It had taken him a lot of time to get it right; and, well, it was his name, his preferred name, K. David Charles, VI. He stood up and went over to his bed.

“Six! Hurry up!”

Six knelt on his bed and took the framed calligraphy off the wall. Yes, this had to go, too. He wrapped it in a pillowcase and put it in the backpack nestled in the back against his laptop. He picked up the backpack and looked around his room one last time. He looked out at the river and the city below him wondering when he’d look out at that scene again.

“David? Are you coming, or not?”

“I’m coming, Mother!”

“Kevin? What are you doing in here?” Eric asked as he walked into the exercise room in the basement of Charles House. His partner for nearly thirty years lay on his back on the mat with a twenty pound weight strapped to his left ankle. Although he was barefoot, Kevin was wearing a holey white t-shirt and tattered gray sweatpants. Droplets of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Uh, working out would be my guess,” Kevin said as he continued the straight leg raises on the left leg.

“You know what I mean,” Eric said as he sat down on the bench. “You haven’t worked out in months.”

“And, my legs have been getting unsteady, again. I don’t want to have to go in for my physical next month and have Doctor Hoffman tell me I haven’t been exercising enough.”

“That’s not why you’re here, right now,” Eric said. He stood up and moved the weight over to Kevin’s right ankle.

“I know who is moving in,” Kevin said. “I saw the info sheets on your desk.”

“Are you mad?” Eric asked. Even though he was wearing black slacks that were going to get dusty, he sat down cross-legged on the mat next to Kevin. “We were concerned about how you’d react. You remember what happened when Michael called you about your father.”

“I knew about my father before Michael called,” Kevin said. He sat up, removed the weight from his ankle, and scooted next to Eric. “I knew what an asshole he was and why he kept me in the state school. I was simply angry that Mikey was just like him and he wouldn’t tell me anything about his family lest I show up at his doorstep and give all his kids the homosexual disease. I overreacted, okay?”

“We were concerned,” Eric said. He softly kissed Kevin’s sweaty cheek.

“I didn’t see a picture,” Kevin said.

“He didn’t send one,” Eric said. “Come on; let’s get you in the shower.”

“So you can make mad, passionate love to me?” Kevin asked as he crawled over to the bench to get something to push off of so he could get to his feet.

“No, both of the new boys will be here sooner than you think,” Eric said as he got to his feet. “Here, let me help you.”

“What? And mess up your hernia, again?” Kevin said. He tried to shrug off Eric’s attempt to help, but silently acquiesced as more muscles won out over stubbornness. He retrieved his cane from where it was leaning against the exercise bike and winced as a pain shot down his left leg. “I’m not going through that, again. I just don’t know why you didn’t get that fixed this summer. It would have been fun taking care of you. I’m sure Euphorbia would’ve loved giving you sponge baths.”

“Since you brought her up, can we talk about Euphorbia sometime soon?” Eric asked. He came up to his lover and enveloped him in a tight embrace. Their lips met briefly.

“She means a great deal to me, you know that,” Kevin said. “Unlike you and Jim, she’s the only person who isn’t one color and you know she helped me a great deal while you were in Viet Nam, especially when you came home without your right arm. She helped you a lot, too, back then, with you being right-handed and all, if you can remember that far back in time. But, well, yes I guess we should talk about Euphorbia. We’re certainly not the randy kids we once were.”

“It would be nice if she’d spend more time with Jim,” Eric said as he followed Kevin out into the TV room. Ben, one of the students who volunteered to come early to help out with the freshmen, was sitting in the navy blue recliner listening to loud music leaking out of his ear buds. Eric smiled.

“Hi, Doctor Parker, Mister Charles,” Ben said as he stood up and turned down the volume on his MP3 player. “I was hoping to get in a quick workout before the kiddies showed up.”

“You could’ve come in,” Kevin said. “It’s not like we were having sex.”

“I heard you talking and I didn’t want to disturb you,” Ben said, sheepishly. He slipped around them and into the exercise room. They heard the music start again.

“Know anyone with a hearing problem?” Kevin asked as they walked across the lounge to the door to their suite.

“No, why?” Eric said as he held the door for Kevin.

“It’d be nice to have someone talk to Ben about ruining his hearing with those ear buds blasting him with all those decibels,” Kevin said. He stood for a moment in the sitting area of their suite as if trying to remember something.

Eric stood beside him and patiently waited. Kevin still had memory problems, even though the exercises helped quite a bit. Eric put his hand on his lover’s neck and began a slow massage.

“That guy over at the field house wears hearing aids,” Kevin said.

“The homophobic track guy?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, shame we can’t talk to him to at least find out if his loss is congenital,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, well you know what the dean said,” Eric said. “Do you need help with your shower?”

“You do want to have sex, don’t you?” Kevin said with a smile. He turned to Eric and started loosening his lover’s tie. “We can spare a few minutes.”

Tiffani stood outside the B gate security exit watching people walk past ignoring her. She was wearing a “Property of North Park College Athletic Dept.” jersey and baggy khaki slacks that did a very good job of hiding her meager female assets. Her shoulder length, straight blonde hair hung loosely from her Seattle Mariners baseball cap. She tried to smile, to show off all the orthodontia work her father paid for as per the separation agreement, but all it did was attract the attention of a couple of dykes who gave her the “eye” and smiled back. She hated looking like a guy, but Karl, her bi boyfriend, liked his girls to look boyish and, well, at least he was nice to her and didn’t act like he wanted to get in her pants. Plus, he had a lot of neat gay friends who were very nice, too.

She was paying more attention to thinking about her boyfriend when she suddenly noticed a short fat boy with blond hair a short ways down the concourse walking toward her. He was wearing baggy blue jeans held up with red and green suspenders and a red t-shirt with “I Didn’t Do It, Yet.” in large white block lettering. Tiffani chuckled to herself. She watched him stop and stare out the window. If she could get past the security gate, she’d go get him to hurry up; or, if he wasn’t so far away, she’d call out to him. So, she stood impatiently and waited. She wasn’t too certain it was Casey, but he certainly looked like the fat kid she came to pick up.

She had to wait for the boy. There was no getting out of it. Whatever he was watching obviously had his total attention. She stared at him and slowly her eyes began undressing him. There wasn’t a lot of definition to his body, but what she could see intrigued her.

She wondered if Casey might consider modeling for her. She’d have to do a lot of studies with his clothes on. She’d have to be honest with him about the eventuality of him being nude. What was the use of having a male model if he wasn’t willing to pose in the nude?

Maybe he’d want her to pose for him. They could trade off. Tiffani never had posed in the nude. She hadn’t even been nude with her boyfriend, yet. She suspected that day might come, but thankfully Karl wasn’t pushing her toward his bed.

Casey turned and started walking toward the exit. He slowly shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d seen, whatever it was. Tiffani’s eyes were studying him very closely, now. He was definitely overweight, if not obese, and he looked more like a kid in middle school than a college freshman. Plus, there seemed to be an edginess about him, as if he was afraid of something. His eyes darted every which way as if he couldn’t take everything in with a steady gaze. There were only a few feet between them and Tiffani stepped out into his path.

“Hi, are you Casey Pale?” Tiffani asked with a smile.

“Uh, yeah, are you Tiffany?” Casey asked. His eyes darted all over her like a swarm of yellow jackets seeking soft, tender skin to sting.

“It’s spelled with an “i”, everyone makes that mistake,” Tiffani said. She smiled at the wispy patch of peach fuzz that was trying to look like a mustache on Casey’s upper lip. She knew she’d have to be careful with him. “Do you have a lot of baggage? Do we need a cart?”

“Just a couple of duffel bags, but we’d better get a cart,” Casey said. A flush of red rose into his cheeks. “You’re a girl.”

“Well, yeah. I bet it was the bare upper lip that tipped ya,” Tiffani said. She quickly turned and said brusquely, “Come on, let’s get your shit.”

“Well, old dear, we’re sixty and we have two new kiddies coming to live with us,” Peter said in a deep baritone as he carefully applied mascara to his left eyelash. “Do you think he’ll look like a Charles?”

“Probably as much as Robert resembled his brother,” Euphorbia said in a high tenor as she replaced the mascara brush for the eyeliner brush. “I still can’t fathom how one man can carry so much hate; and, actually, I hope that was the reason for his death. It would certainly be a pity if he died from something as simple as an accident.”

“You hate too much,” Peter said as he carefully formed a fine black line along the bottom of his eyelid. “You’ve always been so good at carrying a grudge.”

“After what he did to his own son, he deserved my hate even if everyone else forgave him, including dear, sweet Kevin,” Euphorbia said. “He simply ceased to be human as far as I’m concerned.”

“Will you stop moving so much, you know I can’t do our eyes when you get this way,” Peter said as he started on the other eye. “What color of eye shadow should we wear today? You don’t plan on wearing a dress, do you?”

“Of course I will,” Euphorbia said. “After all it’s the first day. We don’t want any of the kiddies thinking they’re getting themselves into something scary like a Robin Williams movie. I was thinking our yellow sundress would look nice at the picnic.”

“Stop moving!” Peter exclaimed.

“Well, you started talking,” Euphorbia said with a pout. “You know very well that we can’t do our eyes and talk, too. You’ve always thought we’re so good at multitasking.”

“You do it in the kitchen all the time,” Peter said.

“And, you don’t leave our rooms,” Euphorbia said.

“Now, don’t start crying or I’ll have to start over,” Peter said.

“You’re so mean to me,” Euphorbia said as she stood up and ran to the bed where she flopped down across it and then rolled onto her back.

“And, you’re always so dramatic about everything,” Peter said as he stared at the ceiling. He shivered a little as a draft of cold air brushed over his naked body. It was going to be another hot day in the kitchen and he wished he could stay here on the bed, but that was impossible. The freshmen were arriving today and tonight they were hosting a small barbecue for President Arnold and the Chairman of the Board of Trustees, Bud McDonald. Today was going to be very busy and Euphorbia needed to be at her best. “I’m sorry for starting the argument.”

“Will you make love to me tonight?” Euphorbia asked as her left forefinger played with her left nipple.

“We should’ve done it last night,” Peter said, “but it’ll be a pleasure to make you happy.”

“Thank you,” Euphorbia whispered. Her hand was on Peter’s erection. Her fingers lightly stroked the silky skin.

“Euphorbia, please stop,” Peter whispered. “You need to go to the store. We need supplies for the picnic tonight.”

“I wish you could drive,” Euphorbia said as she sat up and slowly rolled her back into a graceful bend until her lips sunk over the head of lover’s cock. Experienced fingers firmly stroked the shaft as her tongue busied itself over tender flesh. It only took a moment before Peter’s offering slipped quietly down her throat.

“I’ve never understood how you can do that,” Peter said. The blue satin bedspread felt sticky against his sweaty back. They needed a shower and would have to be quick about it. The kiddies were going to be at the house for lunch and lunch had to be ready. With luck Euphorbia might be able to swindle one of the freshmen into helping and there was Tiffani and Ben, too, but Tiffani was not good kitchen help. “Come on, we need to rinse off the lipstick you’ve smeared on my dick.”

When the silver Escalade pulled into the parking lot behind Charles House, Six could see right off it was out of place. All the other cars and a big, white cargo van were much older and dirty. On the other hand, the bike rack was covered and looked like it was constructed out of heavy duty steel. If he had to keep his bike outside, it just might be safe from the amateur thieves.

Charles House looked more like an apartment building than an actual house. The clinker brick on the exterior gave the building a shiny black patina in the noontime sun. Eight concrete steps led up to a broad covered porch and double glass doors that led into the back of the building. On either side of the building, small balconies extended from sliding glass doors on each of the three floors; three on the west side and two on the east. There wasn’t a balcony on the east side of the first floor, but there was a slider that opened out onto the covered porch. There were two picnic tables on the porch and a large gas grill stood at the end. From where Six stood, the roof appeared flat, but he did notice a small structure on the roof that was usually seen on buildings that had elevators.

Not knowing which room was his, Six waited for his mother to extricate her bulky body out from under the steering wheel. Ever since his parents divorce, he’d watched her slowly grow into an obese cow. She was pleasant and understanding and didn’t push him into doing things he didn’t want, like getting a driver’s license or dating a girl just so he could go to the prom, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her as she continued to add layer upon layer of fatty tissue to a once slender and fit body.

A girl, or who from a distance kind of looked like a girl, came out the door and seemed to be walking toward him. She was wearing long pants and a North Park jersey. Six wondered if you had to wear long pants here. Six was wearing khaki shorts and a teal polo shirt. All of the Admissions aides over at Caine Hall were wearing shorts and jerseys, so he wondered if you had to wear long pants in Charles House. He didn’t want to look like a dork, even if he was, kind of.

“Hi, you must be Six,” the girl said. “I’m Tiffani, with an “i”.”

“Hi,” Six whispered.

“Is that a Fuso?” Tiffani asked as she walked over to Six’s bicycle on the roof rack.

“No,” Six whispered.

“Are you going to introduce me, Six?” Six’s mother asked as she walked around the Escalade to where her son and Tiffani were standing.

“Tiffani, this is my mother, Ms. Martin,” Six said softly.

“Well, lunch should be ready in a few,” Tiffani said as she started walking toward the house. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

“Guys?” Ms. Martin asked.

“Yeah, Jim, Eric, Kevin, and Ben, and, well, there’s Peach, too, he’s the other freshman this year,” Tiffani said. “The other students probably won’t start arriving until Wednesday. There’s not a lot for them to do during Freshman Orientation.”

“I was under the impression there was an older woman in the house,” Ms. Martin said.

“Oh, yeah, Euphorbia, yeah, she’s the cook and housekeeper, but all of us help,” Tiffani said. “You know how to peel potatoes, Six?”

“Yeah, I can peel a potato,” Six said as he hurried to the door and held it for his mother and Tiffani. “I like to carve them into cute little animals before boiling them. There’s nothing like bunnies au gratin.”

“And, you’re sexist, too,” Tiffani said. “I’m quite capable of going through a door without a man’s assistance.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Six whispered as he followed the women inside.

Besides the elevator, there were four labeled doors leading from the vestibule. Directly opposite the exit, the door led to the lounge. The door to the left went to the stairway. Just past the elevator, Tiffani opened the door labeled “Kitchen.”

“See, Six, I can open a door,” Tiffani said smartly. “You may precede me, if you please.”

“Yes, but my mother taught me to be a gentleman,” Six said with a smile. “So, I can’t precede you.”

“I’m your host, so get into the kitchen,” Tiffani said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Six said, “but isn’t that hostperson? I always thought host implied a man and hostess is a woman; unless, of course, you’re one of those trans-type or cross-gendered persons in which case my correct response should’ve been ‘yes, sir.’ I do not wish to offend thee, honest.”

“Right!” Tiffani exclaimed.

Six followed his mother through a short hallway with two doors; “Pantry” on the right” and “Storage” on the left. The last door in front of them led into the kitchen. A very slender, almost skinny, woman of medium height and insignificant breasts, with graying brown hair in a hairnet covered bun, stood at the center island assembling sandwiches. Her blue gingham dress hung down slightly below her knees. There was an obese boy next to her who, except for a peach fuzz mustache, appeared no more than twelve.

“Euphorbia? Peach? This is Six and his mother, Ms. Martin,” Tiffani said with a slight sneer in her voice that added too many z’s to the Ms.

“Oh, good, I was worried you wouldn’t be here until after lunch,” Euphorbia said in a tenor so high it might well have been an alto. “We’re just having an assortment of cold cut sandwiches, nothing spectacular, lunch is always a rather boring affair around here what with the students coming and going at all hours. Why don’t you three get Six settled in his room and I’ll entertain Ms. Martin.”

“Last one to the van has to carry the heaviest piece of luggage,” Tiffani said as she headed for the door.

Six felt the adrenalin pulse as he set himself for the race, but the look on the other boy’s face stopped him cold.

“Hey, Peach, come on, we can’t let her win,” Six said.

“My name isn’t Peach, it’s Casey,” the boy said, “and I’ve already lost so why even try. Go on, have your little race. The Ice Princess might appreciate the challenge.”

“The Ice Princess? That’s a good one,” Six said as he waited for Casey to move. “Come on, we’ll walk out together, I know how to take her down a rung or two.”

“Why are you called Six?” Casey asked as he followed Six out to the car.

“It’s a long story, but my grandfather was Kevin David Charles, IV, so I was called David—Davey for short—most of my life. Then I decided I was going to be called Six and everyone did it except for my dad. He’s your basic asshole. Do you work out or are you cultivating a full-figured look?”

“I don’t work out and I’m not trying to be fat,” Casey said. “I used to be skinny, but puberty hit and all the other guys got big dicks. All I got was a big belly.”

“Damn! Didn’t your mom and dad take you to a doctor or something?” Six asked. He could see Tiffani waiting impatiently beside the car as they stood inside the air conditioned building.

“Dad lives with his new wife in New Jersey and Mom is a crazy Christian who believes prayer answers everything,” Casey said. “I haven’t been to a doctor since my uncle tried to rape me when I was thirteen. Come on, let’s get this over with.”