[Scott] Crit - Katy
michael
news:<20031028104400...@mb-m05.aol.com>...
> Katy
> by Scott 2003
Hi Scott.
> Katy unwound the scarf from her head and opened her pea coat. She was
nearly
> half an hour late for dinner with Joeseph, but he didn't seem to mind. He
was
> sitting at the bar, enjoying his cigar and yukking it up with some of his
> buddies.
I don't know what a pea coat is. Is it the colour? The style?
> "This is Mickie, the Bitter Leprechaun."
That's a great name for a character.
>
> Joeseph yammered about the excitement of trading, the yelling, the
screaming,
> the flashing finger signs. Katy thought it all sounded like a version of
street
> gangs, but she tried to pay attention.
Joseph? No, ignore me.
> "Good evening. My name is Tom and I'll be your server this evening. Sir,
could
> I get you another beer?"
>
> "You cut your hair."
I'm unsure who's speaking here. I'm guessing Katy.
> Tom was surprised. "Yes?"
>
> "I'm sorry. You've waited on me before. You had a ponytail then."
>
> "I had to cut it off to get this job."
>
> "Oh."
>
> Tom was the perfect man. He was taller than Katy. He had a lean face, and
a
> nose that had obviously once been broken. His eyes were steel-colored, and
> framed by sloping eyebrows.
>
> It was the eyebrows that were always asking a gentle question that had
sealed
> Katy's love for Tom.
That's a fine description.
> "So, let me tell you about my day!" Joeseph launched into greater detail
about
> the stock market and the declaration of interest rates and the yen... Katy
> nodded and supplied an appropriate 'hmmm.' every now and then, but she
thought
> of Tom.
>
> He was facing her direction and the words that came out of his mouth were
meant
> for her. They'd had an actual conversation!
>
> "I had to cut it off to get this job." The Shakespearean canon withered
when
> compared to this poetry.
Nice touch, and revealing.
> For more than a year prior to the encounter at the theatre, Katy had seen
Tom
> around the city. He always stood out. In a forest of mullets, Tom had let
his
> hair grow long, to his waist. Raphealite blond curls that he pulled back
only
> when he was serving food.
A forest of mullets? This has to be 1980s then?
> "...Henry was telling me that he took Becky to The Dogwalk last night.
Said the
> show was a riot. Let's go there tonight."
>
> "Oh, I have a friend who performs there."
>
> "You know a drag queen?"
>
> "Yeah. Chris. She does Cher."
>
> "So, is it a guy or a girl?"
>
> "Well, technically he's a guy, but, you know... you call them 'she'."
>
> "Your salads..." Tom held two over-sized plates heaped with greens.
>
> Katy blushed. He had now spoken directly to her three times.
She's cute, and thinks like a sixteen year old.
> She was being sillier than she had been in junior high.
ah yes indeed
> "Katy, I was hoping we'd find a quiet little spot, but ..." Joeseph
reached
> into his coat pocket and tossed a Tiffany box onto the table. "I was
thinking
> it was time for the two of us to get married. What do you think?"
>
> The restaurant had become packed. There were people spilling into the
aisles
> between the tables and Katy could no longer keep an eye on Tom. Another
waiter
> delivered Joeseph's steak and her plate of steamed vegetables, but before
they
> could touch them Tom followed up to make sure everything was all right.
>
> "The asparagus looks great, doesn't it." Tom smiled.
>
> "Yes, yes it does." Katy looked at the artistically arranged asparagus,
carrots
> and baby corn.
>
> "Enjoy." Tom touched Katy's shoulder and then disappeared into the crowd.
>
> HE TOUCHED HER! Joeseph could have been spouting the formula for eternal
youth,
> and Katy wouldn't have paid any attention. Her shoulder tingled through
the
> entire meal. The vegetables were the best she'd ever tasted. The wind
could
> howl, the streets ice over and electricity shut down and Katy would be
warm all
> night.
That's pretty good too.
> ****
> "Mrs. Bonafe, you convinced us to commission this sculpture out of the
church
> beautifidogion fund. We've invested more than two hundred and fifty
thousand
> dollars, and you haven't even seen it? The statue is here on your
> recommendation." Martha twitched in her seat, her tiny eyes darting toward
> Roseanne.
>
> "I'm very familiar with the artist's work. I have no reason to believe he
would
> create anything that would scandalize the congregation."
>
> "There is talk that you have a... personal relationship...with the
artist."
> Katy looked at Bob Priest and wondered when the last time he'd had an
orgasm
> that wasn't self-induced.
Oh, that's the line of the story
> "He's not gay. He's won awards."
What a marvellous non sequitur
> "I knew you'd be reasonable about this, Katy." Roseanne settled back into
her
> chair. "Now we still need to find something to put into the courtyard, and
we
> haven't got much time left. I suggest we revert to my original idea. My
> daughter has made this lovely terra cotta statue of three children
releasing
> doves. It would be perfect! There's a little Asian girl, and an
> African-American boy and a little white boy. It's adorable, and there is
> nothing objectionable about it in the least. I know she'd let us have it
for a
> little more than a hundred. Does anyone have any objections?"
That sounds vile and corny.
> There were three of Tom's paintings in the living room, a cubist portrait,
a
> pointalist still-life, and the pastel rendering hung over the fireplace.
On the
> coffee table was the first sculpture that Tom had ever sold. It was a dog,
> dressed in monk's robes, bent over and looking through a magnifying glass.
>
> Katy remembered the day she'd bought the sculpture at a street fair nearly
ten
> years ago. She'd spent an hour looking for Tom's booth. The Old Town Art
Fair,
> The Halsted Market Days. The Oz Festival. She followed him to them all.
> Sometimes she'd send a friend into his booth to buy something. Sometimes
she'd
> do it herself, being careful not to strike up a conversation with the
artist.
>
> Over the years Tom had only gotten more handsome. He eventually lost the
> slender, boyish body that had first attracted Katy and filled out into a
burly
> man's body. Two or three years ago he'd started wearing glasses. He looked
> distinguished. On the few occasions when Katy had made her own purchases,
he
> was always polite and seemed pleased to have made a sale.
>
> "What is this dog looking for?"
>
> "Well, that's up to you to decide." Tom had stopped counting the coins in
his
> cash box. "I've just started sculpting. If you like, I can be flexible on
the
> price. It would be my first sculpture sale."
>
> "How much?"
>
> Tom's paintings had been good, but his sculpture soon became inspired. He
began
> to specialize in human forms and soon was winning awards, first in
Chicago,
> then throughout Illinois. But sales of his work were slow. She saw the
same
> pieces at every art fair. When she'd heard that a gallery was representing
his
> work, she made monthly pilgrimages, but she saw few of his sculptures
sold.
>
> And now The Baptism, Tom's most significant work, sat in the back woods of
> Wisconsin, little more than a lawn ornament.
>
> Katy dialed her cell phone.
>
> ****
>
> The grains of the first snow pelted the plastic weather bonnet that
protected
> Katy's new permanent and caught on the little rubber letters that spelled
his
> name: Tom Nichols, 1939 to 2003. She placed the bouquet of marigolds on
his
> grave. They'd be frozen in an hour.
Oh, he was older than I thought. I don't know why, I assumed he was a
younger guy.
> Katy lifted the painting of the girl from the rack and waited for Tom to
ring
> her purchase.
>
> "You decided to take it?"
>
> "It's sort of grown on me."
>
> "Well, thank you very much. I hope you enjoy it."
>
> "Thank you."
>
> The painting of the girl was in the shed in Wisconsin along with more than
a
> hundred others. She only kept that first landscape in the back bedroom of
the
> cottage, and the dog sculpture in the foyer of the condo on Lake Shore
Drive.
>
> Katy placed a second bouquet - primroses and sweet peas -on Joeseph's
grave.
> There was a space between the two reserved for her.
>
> "Honey, come on. It's cold out here." Chris waved her rhinestoned wrist
from
> the back of the limo.
>
> Katy blew a kiss to both of the graves. As she climbed over the limestone
curb
> that surrounded the tiny Bonafe family plot, she balanced herself against
The
> Baptism.
Scott, I have to say that this didn't really grab me, and I wasn't sure what
Katy was looking for in her relationship with Scott. You describe the
artwork well, and the sourpuss Roseanne is a well-drawn character, but
unless I missed something really big on first read, I don't really see the
significance of the story, or the message. She bought artwork from him
because she felt sorry for him as a struggling artist and because she had a
huge crush on him, but then - I don't know, I failed to see the significance
of the events as they unfolded. It might just be me. I can be obtuse.
Well written as always, and some good character flourishes. Katy is a very
believable trustafarian character. But the story - I'm just left thinking
"well - OK, but so what?" Sorry I can't be more positive.
Michael
www.uk-fusion.com
'A friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a
body.'
Scott
Michael! I almost missed this! Sorry.
> Scott, I have to say that this didn't really grab me, and I wasn't sure what
> Katy was looking for in her relationship with Scott.
You and me both. I based the story on a conversation I had with a
friend over lunch. It sounded like it would make a good story and
started out gang-busters, but just sort of died a slow painful death
with each keystroke. I resolved to stick with it and either revive a
pale pulse or bury it with scorn from AFO.
Stil, thanks for the read. Always much appreciated and I'm pleased
you could find somethings of merit in the piece.
Scott