For diva311.
By Janet.
Dee stepped into Zach's workshop, calling his name, but there was no answer. Which didn't mean much. Zach often got so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice outside distractions.
A quick scan of the garage showed that he really was out this time. Dee flopped onto an old chair to wait. The chair wobbled and creaked, showing why Zach's parents had allowed him to appropriate it for his workshop. They still disapproved of his artistic pastimes, and offered very little support, financial or otherwise, so he carefully horded his money to spend on his art, and not on comfort.
Not that Dee blamed him. He was majoring in art in college, and the only reason he could do so was because of a scholarship, a part time job, and selling some of his work. His father refused to pay for an education he viewed as a waste, although he was willing to tolerate it as long as it didn't cost him anything. This kept Zach trapped at home, since he couldn't afford on-campus housing on top of his tuition, even with the scholarship.
Dee had also stayed in town, although she'd moved into her own apartment. It was tiny, and something broke every week, but it was hers. She was currently attending the community college and constantly changing jobs, trying to find something that she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
The rest of the gang had scattered. Tom was out-of-state on a football scholarship. The others had stayed in state, but were in different colleges and lived on campus.
They kept in touch, of course, and visited during holidays and breaks. But it wasn't the same as being just a few minutes away. In their absence, Zach and Dee had spent a lot of time together, originally out of habit, but they'd soon realized, against all expectations, they actually enjoyed each other's company. Zach encouraged Dee to slow down and look around every now and then, and showed her how to see art as more than pretty colors. Dee made Zach take a break from his work long enough to get some fresh air and exercise, and to see the world as more than props for his next project.
Dee glanced at her watch. He should be here by now, unless he'd forgotten her. He'd begged her to model for him last month, and tonight his photos would be on display at a local gallery. He'd invited her to come, and she'd accepted, not having any other plans and rather curious to see the pictures. It was a twisted curiosity, mixed with dread, the kind of curiosity that led her to watch televised surgery and reality tv.
She liked a lot of Zach's work, but none of those had been of her. Zach did not normally photograph people--this had been for an assignment. It was also an experiment with a digital camera and a new computer program, so there was no predicting what bizarre things he'd done with her image.
"Dee?" Zach walked in. "Oh good, you're here. Sorry I'm late. There was an accident on the highway. Ready to go?"
"Lead on."
*********
Dee wandered around the gallery, trying to repress the rising homicidal urges. She wished she hadn't paid so much attention to Zach's explanation on the meanings behind various artistic works. Then she might be able to look at the pictures of her as pretty and meaningless.
In one she was floating in the night sky, her form outlined in stars, as if she were a constellation. Another had her standing on a marble pedestal. The various martial art poses she'd struck had been transformed into a complex trophy, her form gilded.
Is this what he thinks of me, Dee wondered. Untouchable, distant, and cold? Inhuman? She knew that was how some people used to think of her, back in high school, but that was before the games had shown her that she was human, and mortal, and had all the flaws and weaknesses that came with it. After that she'd relaxed some; indulging in junk food, taking time off from training, allowing herself, when the occasion called for it, to wear make-up and pretty, impractical clothes, and even dating.
Judging from these pictures, Zach still saw her as physically perfect and nothing else. If he hadn't disappeared to talk with his professor, she'd be showing him just how much damage physical perfection could cause.
Walking around a corner, Dee found the rest of Zach's display: a collage of old photos of her from the past few years. Shots of her at the beach, hugging her friends, their high school graduation, a whipped cream fight. Tacked up on the wall next to it was Zach's "artist's statement."
She remembered Zach moaning about having to write that, ranting in his laconic way that art didn't need an explanation, and if it did, the artist had failed.
She read it anyway.
"I asked Dee to model because she is the most beautiful person I know. Her body is in perfect shape, and her face has the classical beauty of a Greek statue. But she's also real. This series shows that the ideal is obtainable. Here is a real woman, flesh and blood, but she could be a statue of the goddess Artemis, she's so perfect. The ideal can be found in real people, and people can be perfect and still be human. I've seen many beautiful people, but I chose Dee because she's a friend. A model, a stranger off the streets, wouldn't have the same impact. These are pictures of a goddess, the perfect woman, but she's not untouchable, or dead, or anything, because she's my friend who I've known for years. She likes Mexican food and kung-fu movies, and hates nylons and high heels. She is amazingly graceful on the floor of the dojo, but can't ski down a bunny slope without falling over. She sings off-key and has beaten every Mario game. She's real, and still perfect."
"Do you like it?"
Dee turned to see Zach, his gray eyes showing a hint of worry.
"I was ready to kick your butt when I saw the first ones, but this," she waved at the collage and artist's statement, "convinced me not to."
Zach's shoulders slumped. "You had to read the statement? I thought I'd managed to get the point across without it."
Dee nodded. "That I was human, yeah. The part about you wanting to ask me out didn't quite make it through in the photos though."
His eyes widened. "That's in the statement?"
She smiled at him. "Yeah." She slung an arm around his shoulders. "And I know that you hate being around all these people and being the center of attention, and that you also like Mexican, so what do you say we sneak out of her and get some enchiladas?"
He put an arm around her waist. "I should warn you, I'm not a very good boyfriend."
"So Summer told me. In detail. Repeatedly. But since I don't think a two month anniversary is anything special, I doubt I'll be upset if you don't buy me roses for it. But then, by a surprising coincidence, I've also been told I'm a lousy girlfriend."
"I heard something about that, yes. If it helps any, I'm well aware you can open the door yourself, and would never try to touch you in any way you didn't like. I don't want to risk my hands getting broken."
"Oh please. It wasn't even a fracture, and he had full movement back in a couple days." They headed out of the gallery. "And since you're a good friend I've known for years, and not some jerk Audrey hooked me up with, you can get away with far more touching then most."
"Oh...good. How nice," Zach managed to get out around the sudden feeling of being strangled.
Dee couldn't help herself. "And maybe, if things go well, I'll even model for you again."
Zach grinned up at her. "That'd be great. I have a couple other ideas I want to try."
"Any of them involve nudes?"
Zach turned pink, and Dee smirked, but Zach recovered quickly. He stopped walking, pulling Dee to a stop as well. He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze curious and calm, then leaned up and kissed her.
Dee held still for a couple seconds, surprised that Zach would be this forward. But she wasn't easy to keep off-balance, and soon she was returning the kiss enthusiastically.
When they pulled apart, Dee grinned. "This is going to be fun."
Zach grinned back. "Not a disaster?"
"Maybe. But it'll be a fun disaster." She kissed him again. "C'mon, Romeo. Let's get some dinner and you can try to talk me into some nudie shots."
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