Family Ties

Wednesday was a blur of projects and papers, and the four of us worked through the afternoon and late into the evening. Christy spent most of her time on the computer, proofreading and making corrections and printing out final versions of everyone’s work. In a few short days, she’d learned to use the thing better than I could.

The next morning Trip and I loaded our models into the back of the Land Cruiser and drove to the A&A building. Trip had to rush off with his, but I had a couple of hours to kill before Joska’s class. I hung out in the atrium and watched art students come and go with their own projects, everything from mixed-media sculpture to one guy who had a bright future (pun intended) as a

neo-expressionist.

When the time finally arrived for my own class, I took my model upstairs to Joska’s classroom. He was there already and nodded when I entered. He knew all about my design, although his eyebrows still rose at the sight of my model. He’d been skeptical about the roof, but I’d been coy about my visit to Jonas and his plexiglass studio.

Freddie showed up with his own project and set it on the desk next to mine. It wasn’t the best in the room, but it wasn’t the worst either, and we talked about our designs. The hubbub finally died when Joska went to the front of the room and said he was ready to begin.

We each had to give a three-minute presentation of our design. Then Joska and the class could ask questions. He went alphabetically through the roll. The first presentations were good but nothing special. Freddie’s went well, and he fielded Joska’s single question easily.

When Gracie’s turn came, she took her model to the front of the room.

She wasn’t a confident speaker, and I could tell how nervous she was. We hadn’t talked in months, but I silently wished her well.

Her design was Brutalist, which wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t ugly, which was. Her model used a clever mix of cylindrical towers and blocky Brutalist forms, with a bronze- and aluminum-clad façade that made it look like a modern version of a medieval fortress. I didn’t like Brutalism in general, but Gracie’s design was elegant and creative. Joska asked a couple of softball questions that made it clear he was impressed too.

My turn was next, and I couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse to follow Gracie. Then I took a deep breath and thought of Rodin’s Naked Balzac. I pictured myself standing like Balzac, looking down my nose at the world. I breezed through my presentation with ten seconds to spare. Then I opened the floor for questions, and Gracie immediately raised her hand.

“Miss Fisher?” Joska said.

“What was the inspiration for your sculptures?” she asked with a gotcha smirk.

“Inspiration? It’s a museum. It needs art. So a friend made them for me.”

“You mean”—melodramatic pause for manufactured surprise—“they aren’t your own work?”

“I just said they weren’t.”

“Whose are they?” Joska asked.

“My girlfriend is a sculptor.” I returned Gracie’s fake smile with interest.

“She made them for me.”

“So,” Gracie accused, “you’re trying to pass off someone else’s work as your own?”

“I just told you, no.” I felt a rising tide of annoyance and outright hostility. “Weren’t you listening?”

“But they’re on your model.”

“Did you make the cars on yours?” I shot back. “They look like Hot Wheels. Are you trying to pass off someone else’s work as your own?”

“It’s obvious they aren’t mine,” she snapped. “Yours are—”

“That’s enough,” Joska said.

I turned to face him. “Professor, this is a design class, isn’t it? Not a model-from-scratch class? Or did I miss something in the syllabus?”

“Just so,” he agreed.

“So, does anyone have any real questions?” I pointedly ignored Gracie.

“Or are we just going to quibble over components?”

I felt guilty for downplaying Christy’s sculptures, but I was trying to make a point.

Freddie raised his hand. “I have a question. How the hell did you make that roof?”

“Mr. DeFeo,” Joska scolded, “professional language, please.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Freddie said. “How the professional hell did you make that roof?”

Wren had three exams on Friday and Trip had two. The University actually had a rule that students weren’t required to take more than two exams in a single day, but Wren hadn’t made a fuss about it.

By a quirk of scheduling, Christy and I didn’t have any, so we went to the grocery store and bought ingredients for dinner. I nearly freaked out when I saw how much fresh tuna steaks cost, but it made me appreciate how Wren turned the grocery money into so many gourmet meals.

Christy was in a good mood as we shopped. She danced through the aisles and filled our basket with more than we really needed. She didn’t seem to care how much things cost. For all her other talents—art, dance, music, languages—she didn’t pay attention to numbers at all, whether they were

money, time, or basic math.