SEVEN DAYS (30 page)

“No way,” said Andre, not as an exclamation, but as a matter of fact.

“What do you mean 'no way'?” Judy said out loud and Mark shot her a warning look.

“Did you hear that?” Andre said.

The bus fell silent. Judy had never been so still in her life. She clung to stillness, knowing that it was the only thing that would preserve her dignity at that moment.

“How many beers have you had?” said Maggie. “You’re hearing voices. Can you even drive?”

“That's a good point,” said Andre. “I should drive us home while I still can.”

“Okay,” Maggie said. “Get to it, big boy.”

* * * *

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up at the house and risked another beer each. Maggie downed hers quickly and said:

“I've got to go pee. I'll see you around.”

“It was a pleasure,” said Andre.

“Come back to class,” Maggie said. “I've not finished your portrait.”

“I don't know,” said Andre, clearly wanting to her to encourage him.

“Sort it out with Mark,” Maggie said. “Whatever you've done, he'll understand.”

When they were gone, the first thing Judy said to Mark, aside from a few choice swear words, was: “She's right about you and Andre, you know? But maybe you need to make the first move. He worships you.”

“Maybe,” said Mark, crawling out from under the seat.

“And it was my fault,” said Judy.

“We don't have to go there,” Mark said.

“I want to,” said Judy. “I was trying to make you jealous. In fact, thinking back, I think I was even trying to push you away. I think I wanted you to see us, because I was afraid. I was afraid of how much I….like you.”

Mark offered Judy his hand and helped her up.

 “They've gone,” Mark said. “We'd better go before we get caught.”

As they got off the bus, however, Judy couldn't resist asking one more question.

“Why did you choose Maggie to come on the workshop? What did she submit to you?”

“Herself,” said Mark. “She’s very dedicated.”

I knew it
, thought Judy, but she was surprised by how quickly he admitted it.

“Or rather, she submitted her skin,” added Mark. “That tattoo is her self-portrait. It's a skeleton, covering about half of her body. A drawing of herself, drawn on herself.”

Maggie had bled to get on the course. That was dedication.

“It's still weeping in places,” Mark added. “It's pretty gross, actually.”

“How much of it have you seen?” Judy asked.

“Most of it,” said Mark.

“Seen a lot of her, haven't you?”

“I was on the judging panel and this is a residential art retreat. Yes, I've seen a lot of her.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“I don't know where this is coming from,” Mark said.

“Then I'll give you some time to think about it. Alone.”

She turned on her heel and strode away.

She didn't look back until she reached the entrance. He was no longer visible.

You fucked that one up,
she told herself, but she wasn't listening to herself.

Instead, she marched up the stairs and entered her room, heedless of the fact that Maggie would be there.

As it turned out, however, Maggie hadn’t gone up and so Judy was able to throw herself on her bed, emotionally exhausted and scream into her pillow.

When she pulled her head up, she had tears in her eyes.

When she comes in,
she thought,
I'm going to have it out with her. Why did this have to turn into a competition between me and her? Couldn't I just be happy? This once?

She had time to compose herself. She made herself a cup of tea and drank it. She tried to get a nap, but was unable to sleep.

Still, Maggie hadn't returned to the room.

So where is she?

As the minutes ticked by, she saw the error of her thinking. It wasn't Maggie she needed to have it out with. It was Mark she needed to talk to. Once again, she'd slammed an imaginary door in his face as a result of her own fears and suspicions. She just couldn't accept that someone as great as Mark could love her as much as she loved him.

Ten minutes later, she had her hand on the door knob of Mark's door, but forced herself to wait when she heard Maggie's voice inside.

“I know you want me,” Maggie was saying. “What's the big deal?”

A pause.

“Why not??” Maggie whined.

Mark's voice then. Low. Gentle.

“Then what is it?” Maggie said. She sounded drunk, slurring her words. “What does she have that I don't?...What do you see in her?...Why her?”

That's what Judy wanted to know. She'd have given almost anything to hear Mark's reply to that question. Anything but being found lurking with an ear against his door.

“You drew her. I know that's her. You're a good artist, Mark. Of course, it's her. Draw me the same way. I can keep my clothes on. I just want you to look at me the way you look at her. Just once.”

Heavy footsteps approached the door and Judy shrank back, but then she heard Mark's voice.

“Okay,” he said. “I'll draw you.”

He was quiet then. It was Maggie's voice that filled the silence.

“You're so damn hot,” she said.

And: “It's hot in here. Can I just take this off?”

And: “You know, I think you need to get your brush wet. No, wetter than that. I’ve got just the thing.”

And: “You like this? How about this? I could sit like this? I could sit like this for hours.”

Judy couldn't stand any more. Why was he indulging her? He should have just kicked her out.

Rather than return to the oppressive silence of her room, she went outside and walked around the courtyard. It was cool and did a little to soothe her, but not enough. Nothing could. Nothing but Mark could appease her and he was obviously otherwise indisposed.

Two more days,
she thought.
I've just got to get through two more days and then I'll be home.

The thought depressed her and she sat on a rock with her head in her hands waiting for the feeling to pass.

It was perhaps an hour later that she finally dragged her exhausted body back inside, but before taking the stairs, she passed by Mark's room. At first it seemed all quiet inside and she thought that whatever the situation had been, it had resolved itself, but then she noticed heavy breathing and, for the second time that night, the sound of Maggie's yelps and her guttural groan of pleasure.

Judy tumbled away from the door, as if burnt by it, and she made her way back along the corridor, passing her hand against the wall to steady her.

For some reason, she thought that if she could just get to her room everything would be okay. Small steps. Room. Taxi. Hotel. Airport. Flight. She could do that.

She let herself into her room and slammed the door behind her, her entire body shaking, tears hot in her eyes.

“Hi,” said Mark, “I'm glad it's you that burst in.”

“What the hell!? What are you doing in here?”

He was sitting on her bed. It was the first time that she had seen him in her room and yet now he looked perfectly in place, as if the room had been built around him.

“Maggie turned up at my room,” Mark said. “She's drunk. I called Andre to help me throw her out and he took over. I'm hiding up here.”

Ahhhh.

“I heard you,” Judy admitted. “She asked you to paint her.”

“That's not all she asked me to do,” Mark said.

Judy looked mortified.

“But I'm here, aren't I?” Mark said.

She threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off the bed.

“I'm sorry,” Judy said and kissed his face. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” Mark said.

“Maggie asked you what you see in me,” Judy said. “I'm wondering that too. I’m wondering what it is we’re doing here. Where is this going to lead? Nowhere?”

He cupped her face with his hand.

“We don't need all the answers tonight,” he said. “We have time.”

“Do we?” she said. “The course ends on Saturday. I fly back on Saturday night. What happens then? You're an international, jet-setting artist.”

“Hardly.”

“I saw some of the letter headed paper in your room. You've been asked to open a gallery in London, and to teach at the Tate. You're double-booked for conferences in Paris and Berlin.”

“Really?” Mark said.

“And I'm an office girl from Walthamstow. Where Maggie got the idea that I'm stuck-up, I don't know. I'm nothing.”

“Don't say that.”

“We're from different worlds. I thought you were just some guy working in an art gallery.”

“I am.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't. I'm the same guy and I do work in art galleries. Without them, I’d have nowhere to exhibit. You keep breaking my nose by slamming doors in my face, but it's still me each time you open up again.”

“I'm afraid of making a fool of myself,” she admitted.

“Get over it. Or get it out the way. We can be fools together.”

“I don't want to be hurt again. I couldn't stand it.”

“I won't hurt you.”

“You can't promise that.”

He didn't push. He waited, sensing that she hadn't finished speaking.

“Mark, it's been an amazing week, but what we're doing can't last. I need to get my head round that. And I think it's better that I do that now. It's how I operate.”

“It doesn't need to be over,” he said.

“It already is,” she said. “You're so free. I never know what you're going to do from one moment to the next and neither do you, but I can't live like that. Not long term. I have a special diary for my chores and I tick them off as I go along. It's colour-coded. We're just not compatible.”

“You're right,” said Mark. “That is kind of weird.”

“You've got all the girls after you. If it's not Maggie, it will just be someone else. Someone beautiful and creative and free. One girl after another, throwing themselves at your feet.”

“Maggie will regret doing that in the morning,” Mark said, but Judy continued, speaking over him.

“Why shouldn't your life be like that? Every single day of your life. Why would I destroy something beautiful by trying to trap it for my own selfish purposes?”