Page 58 of High Stakes and Soulmates
“That sounds horribly concerning. Anyway, this is an art class.”
“Fine, fine,” I say as I hurry over to the whiteboard and grab a marker. I draw two stick figures. “So this here is Cyrus and this is me.”
“He’s taller than I thought he’d be,” the chatty guy comments.
“And handsome,” the first woman says.
Julian stares at the board. “He’s a stick figure! How can a stick figure be handsome?”
“You’re the art professor, you should know,” the guy says, and everyone in the class laughs while Julian gives me a look. Evidently, I’m the new favorite. I should try my hand at becoming a professor if it’s this easy.
“I would like to go from here…” I say as I draw an arrow from the two stick figures over to a new drawing of a bed with the two stick figures simply… spooning each other.
“Ezio! You can’t just… draw sex on the board! Even if they’re adults, this isn’t a sex ed class!”
“They’re spooning! That’s a clear spoon!” I declare.
“They’re obviously spooning,” the guy says.
“Malcolm, don’t you dare encourage him,” Julian threatens.
“And then we’d go to this.” I draw Cyrus and myself getting married.
“It’s beautiful,” one of the women says as she wipes a fake tear from her eye.
“Brandy, you too. Do not encourage him,” Julian warns, but honestly, the whole class of about seventeen or so agrees with me! He’s the only one struggling with any part of this.
And then Julian, the demon, heads over to start erasing my life dreams.
“Professor, you’re stunting his creativity,” Malcolm says. “You told us that we should never stunt someone’s creativity.”
“Thank you,” I say. “And then after marriage comes some of this?—”
“That is clearly sex!” Julian interrupts.
I throw out a gasp in an attempt to make Julian seem like the ridiculous one here. “Julian! You heathen! It is not. We are giving each other horsey rides!”
“And what are you doing there?”
“Looking for his contact lens.”
“He doesn’t wear contacts!”
“I know! That’s why it’d be strange, but I’m a gentleman, so I’d still help him find it,” I explain, drawing a third one that must be bad enough that Julian is rushing after me with the eraser. “Julian, have a sense of adventure. We are simply playing leapfrog! You’re an art professor. You should be looking at the finer details. Analyzing it, you know?”
“Stop drawing them faster than I can erase them!” he says as the class laughs, enjoying every bit of this. I’m not going to lie… it encourages me to draw another.
“And here I’m helping him fix the washing machine. He can’t reach the knob, so I have to lean over him.”
“Who fixes a washing machine with another body in between?”
“I’m showing him how!” I explain. “If he was behind me, he couldn’t see. He has to be in front of me?—”
Julian viciously rips the marker out of my hand before I can depict any more of my after-marriage life.
Since he’s busy scrubbing every sign of my artwork away, I turn to the students. “Class, as you can see, this man here is called an art critic. They will tear you down and try to destroy your work, but you will grow as a person by ignoring their sad attempts to ruin your creativity.”
“I think you should be our teaching assistant,” Malcolm decides.
