Sunrise Box Set

Chapter 1-5

I wrapped the towel around my middle and went to see who it was. Without thinking to use the peep hole, I simply opened the door.

There was Louis. I swear I nearly fainted. Grinning from ear to ear, showing an expanse of brilliantly white teeth, he was wearing a cutoff tee, short shorts riding so low he should have been arrested, and sandals. I could see abs that wouldn’t quit in the gap between his shirt and his shorts, not to mention his happy trail and just the top of what appeared to be a bushy set of pubes.

“Whitney, I’m legal. Yesterday was my eighteenth birthday. Now I want you to give me my present. f**k me, daddyman!”

* * * *

One afternoon about four P.M. Jean stepped in to say that someone wanted to see me. I asked who it was. She said it was Stuart Blount, of the art department at Stafford High. I recognized the name and got up to go to the outer office to greet him.

Wow! Louis said he thought I was hot, and this was his art teacher? I guessed this hunk was about thirty. He was at least six feet tall with curly red hair and green eyes. And he was built like the proverbial brick facility.

“Hi, I’m Whitney Pell.”

He stuck out his hand, which I took. I winced a little from his grip.

“I’m Stu Blount. Would you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure, come on in.”

I took him into my office and gestured him to a seat.

“You’re Louis Lefevre’s teacher. He’s told me a lot about you. I’m amazed by his talent. He keeps saying it isn’t talent, that he learned it all from you. I’ll bet you’d disagree with that, wouldn’t you?” It felt like I was babbling, but the guy was a hunk, and I was still a little flustered.

He reached up to scratch his chin. That’s when I noticed a wedding ring on his left hand.

“Oh, I’ve helped guide Louis a little, but the boy has, as you said, an incredible natural talent. It’s because of Louis that I’m here, as a matter of fact.”

“I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve been planning to get in touch with you, in fact. I’d like to meet your colleagues in the art department to see if we can improve the interaction between your program and ours. But tell me more specifically why you’re here.”

“Louis belongs in a good university art program somewhere, and I thought perhaps if we worked together, we could get him into one.”

“My thinking exactly.”

We talked for another fifteen minutes or so about Louis. I suggested several universities with excellent art departments and we considered the merits of each. Then we talked a little about how Sunrise had helped the art program at the high school in the past, and I asked him for his ideas about how we could improve our working relationship. He said he had some ideas, but he’d like to work them out, run them by his departmental colleagues, and then get back to me. I told him I’d look forward to that.

As he was leaving, I asked if he knew Judd Thomas.

“Sure. He’s our best soccer player. I don’t really know him, but he seems like a nice kid.”

“I understand he’s taking an art course this fall and having lots of trouble in it.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll bet he’s in Helen Burleigh’s class, but I don’t know why he’s taking art at all, much less with her. She has a reputation for not being particularly sympathetic to jocks. Why did you ask about Judd?”

“Well, he’s been here several times, and I’ve tried to help him focus in on a topic for his term paper. He’s a bright guy, but he just doesn’t have the vocabulary that we artists use. Interestingly, he wants to do his paper on the sculpture of Bernini.”

Blount looked puzzled. “Really? That surprises me. Where did he ever get to know anything about Bernini?”

“Right here, apparently. He remembers being here while he was in middle school, when he saw a book with pictures of the Bernini sculptures and was taken with them.”

“I guess you guys at Sunrise don’t realize how much good you’re doing in the community.” He stood. “Look, do you want me to talk with Helen about Judd?”

“No, not yet. I’ve got something else in mind, and I’d be interested to know if you approve. I’d like to encourage him and perhaps get him some help. I’m thinking that an art student might be willing to take Judd under his wing.”

“Are you thinking of the same art student I am?”

I grinned. “I suspect so.”

I asked if he wanted a tour of the facility. He thanked me but declined, saying he’d been coming to Sunrise and sending his students here for years.

We shook hands, and he left. What a waste, I thought, that that hunk of manhood is married. But then, the good looking ones are usually straight.

* * * *

I called Stafford High School, identified myself, and asked to speak with Ms. Burleigh. I was told she was in a meeting and asked if she could call me back. I gave the person on the other end my phone numbers, at Sunrise, my cell, and my home phone.

A half hour later Jean told me that Helen Burleigh was on the phone.

“Hello, Ms. Burleigh. I’m sorry we haven’t met yet. How are things going so far this fall?”

“Very well, thank you, Dr. Pell. To what do I owe the honor of your call?”

“While we’re talking I wanted to mention that I’d like to have a meeting with you and your art department colleagues to see how we at Sunrise can interface more effectively with your program.”

“Oh, well, you’d have to talk with Ms. Crow, the head of the department, about that.”

“I see. Well, thanks for that information.”

“Is that all?”

“No, I really called to talk about Judd Thomas.”

“What about him?”

“I understand he’s not doing well in your course.”

“I’m not sure I should be talking about one of my students with you.”

“Well, I’m not trying to horn in, but I have talked with both Judd and Stuart Blount. Stuart and I thought perhaps Judd could use some extra help, say, from a student tutor.”

“Judson needs all the help he can get, if you ask me, and you apparently are. Did you have a particular student in mind?”

“Yes, Louis Lefevre is willing to do it if it’s okay with you. And, of course, I haven’t said anything to Judd yet about Louis being his tutor.”

“You say you talked with Stuart about all this?”

“Yes. He was here on another matter, and I just mentioned Judd’s problem. By the way, has Judd mentioned to you that he wants to do his term paper on the sculpture of Bernini?”

“Yes, he’s submitted that topic to me. I must say, I was surprised. Is that something you talked him into doing?”

“Not at all. Judd remembered seeing pictures of some of those pieces when he was here on a field trip a few years ago. He told me he found them fascinating. I suggested the topic, and he seemed pleased with the idea.”

“I see.”

“Do you have any problem with Louis tutoring Judd?”

“No. Louis is a bright young man. Judson will be lucky to have his help. And I dare say he’ll enjoy working with Judd.” I didn’t quite hear her snicker, but I think she was close.

I thanked her for her time and asked Jean to see if she could get Judd on the phone for me. She reported that he was at soccer practice.

“Would you please call his home and leave a message asking him to call me?”

“Sure, boss.”

* * * *

I had been in Stafford for four months, and it didn’t seem as if I’d had time to draw a deep breath. Meshing into the new job took a lot of time and energy. I was constantly meeting new people, each of whom was eager to bring me up to speed in his or her area of special interest. It was all very exhilarating. As with any organization, the Stafford Arts Alliance had many smart, hard-working, cooperative people. But as with any arts organization, it had its share of prima donnas. I came to discover that the artists were by and large much easier to work with than some of the SAA committee chairs, the people who were artsy rather than artists. But it was a major part of my job to soothe, placate, pour oil where needed, and I knew that when I took the job.

In October when the first new show of the fall was hung and we hadn’t had our first concert yet, I could relax a little. I needed to get together again soon with the committee in charge of finding the musicians for the next year’s concert series. I still hadn’t managed that meeting with the art and music faculty of the area high schools—and the middle school folks would have to be encouraged, too, I realized. But for a few days there, I was able to slow down, to take a breather.

That led to some stock taking. All in all, I loved the job. It was a different kind of challenge from my work at Clearfield. And it was good, in a way, to be back in my home state. I knew these people, understood them, could talk their language. Stafford was a much more cosmopolitan little city than I would have thought. I think in the seventeen years I’d been up north, things had changed a lot in Carolina. People seemed worldlier, less provincial. Maybe I was the one who’d changed. Maybe things had always been that way and I was too caught up in my own agenda to see it. Anyway, I was enjoying Stafford.

I found, however, that I didn’t enjoy living alone.

For a while after Kyle and I broke up, I was too disillusioned to mind. In fact, I felt I was better off alone than with a guy I didn’t any longer share much with except a bed. Even though I’d recognized he was right when he said we didn’t have much holding us together except convenience and inertia, I was still hurt that he’d accepted the transfer to England without even talking with me about it first.

Maybe that’s why I reveled for a while in the independence, in not having to consult anyone about what groceries to buy, what meals to fix. I could wear what I wanted, come and go as I chose. Four months later, however, I realized that, even though the passion had gone out of our relationship, even though there probably had never been any real love between us, we were sharing a life. And I missed that having someone else in the house, someone to talk over the events of the day with. To go to a movie with, or a concert, or a ball game.

What I wanted, I realized, was not to be alone, to have a housemate. Even more I wanted someone I could truly love, someone who loved me, someone with whom to have a committed relationship. I wanted something permanent, substantial. I wanted a partner, a lover, a mate.