Authors: Laura Amy Schlitz
I was afraid David was displeased, because he hadn’t had more than a quarter of an hour to draw me with the sheep. Luckily he has a very buoyant nature. He’s like Mimi that way: fussing one minute and laughing the next. He said that sheep weren’t hard to draw, and he would sketch me now and add the sheep later on. My job was to stay very still while he sketched me with charcoal. He didn’t speak more than a few words to me, and I was forbidden to talk. It was hard to kneel and hold still all that time. Then he asked if I would mind taking off my hat and unpinning my hair and unbuttoning my collar a little.
I knew my hair would never go up so well a second time, not without a mirror and a brush. But I could see that Joan of Arc wouldn’t have worn a Dutch collar or a Cheyenne hat. So I yielded to his plea. While I untidied myself, he took out his colored chalks —
pastels,
they’re called.
I never realized what hard work it is to sit for an artist. I was glad he wasn’t making a sculpture of me. It was exciting to think that I was going to be part of a masterpiece. But it was also boring, because I couldn’t speak and my knees ached. And I’d been looking forward to David teasing me and maybe saying more about me being a magnificent creature.
But he was lost in a world of his own. After a long, long time he said I might rest. I got up and looked at his sketches. The charcoal ones weren’t that interesting because they were just my shape. But the chalk ones were of my face, and I was astonished how many colors he’d used to draw me. My skin was peachy and rosy orange and brown and blue gray — it was even
green,
where the leaf shadows were. And my hair was every shade of brown: rust and fawn and chestnut and gold. Oh, but those chalks looked tempting! I asked if I could touch them. He not only said yes, he showed them to me and let me make marks on a piece of paper.
They are all different, those chalks. Not just in color, but in texture: some of them hard and scrape-y and others are as soft as butter. The soft ones get put on top of the hard ones. David showed me how I could put colors together and smear them with my fingers. The smeared chalk looked like velvet.
I was
enraptured.
Then he said he would teach me to draw. He went and got a dandelion and made me look at it, and asked me what color it was. Of course I said yellow and green. But then he said to really look. I saw that the under petals — the green ones under the flower — overlap, and where they overlap there is just a hint of lavender. And there are two circles of petals on the dandelion — the inner circle of the flower is pinker and orangier than the outer circle. The outer petals are more like a lemon, that sharp yellow that reminds you of green, only when you look, there’s no green in sight. The stem is more than one color, too. Where the light hits the edge, there’s a kind of silvery perspiration — and parts near the bottom are purplish red and freckled!
I was so excited, I exclaimed. David led me to a bench and set his portfolio on my lap and told me to draw the dandelion. It looked just awful, because I couldn’t figure out whether to draw the flower from the side or the top. With a few deft strokes, David sketched it for me, so that I could see the basic shape. He told me to copy his shape and concentrate on the colors. So I began again.
It’s funny, because then
I
was like an artist. I forgot about David. I loved it so much, trying to draw and seeing the dandelion the way I’ve never seen one before. I glowed when David praised me, but at that moment he was like a teacher, not a man — I mean, I forgot he was a man. I didn’t
quite
forget; I was purely happy when he praised me. But when he guided my hand, I didn’t think about him touching me. And when he leaned over me, I didn’t feel scared, because my mind was on the dandelion.
Oh, but the time rushed by on winged feet! At last David said that if I wanted a drive or a trip on the boat lake, we should move along. (Last night I’d made up my mind to choose the boat trip, because if we went driving, we might run into Mrs. Mueller or even Nora Himmelrich — how horrible
that
would be!) So I said I wanted to go on the lake. He put away the chalks while I tried to tidy myself. I buttoned my collar. My hair gave me trouble, just as I knew it would. I gave up trying to make it puff and secured it with a slipknot.
By the time we reached the lake it was almost noon, and there was a line of people ahead of us. It was such a fine September day; everyone wanted to go on the lake. I was disappointed because I’d had this picture in my mind of me floating over the water with my rose-colored parasol, and David looking graceful and manly, with his sleeves rolled up. He has the most beautiful forearms I’ve ever seen.
He asked if I had time for an ice-cream sundae at the pharmacy, and I said sadly that I didn’t think I had. I suppose I must have looked wistful, because he put out one forefinger and touched me on the nose — which was not dignified or romantic. But then he charmed me by saying that he was going to buy me a sketchpad of my own, so I could practice drawing.
I hope it isn’t improper to accept a sketchpad from a young man, because if he remembers to buy me one (he might not remember), I mean to accept it.
As we walked home together, I remembered he was a man. I felt proud, walking with a man, but I also felt shy. Then I had a brilliant idea; I asked him if he knew that bridge in Florence where the poet Dante met his beloved. That got him started on all the things he’s seen abroad. Oh, how I envy him! He hasn’t really seen the Alhambra — he confessed that he made up the ghost stories he told me, because he wanted to impress me. But he’s seen the Swiss Alps and Venice and other places where there’s real life. Once he lived in Paris for a whole month, just the way the natives do. He told me about his favorite café in Paris — he used to sit in a café and draw. I wish I could draw in a café in Paris.
Outside the park, we ran straight into Mimi. It wasn’t as bad as if she’d been Nora Himmelrich, but she grinned at me in the most provoking way and said she’d thought I was at Mass. I was too mortified to answer.
David answered with aplomb. “I persuaded her to help me instead. I need a model for my new painting — Janet’s going to be my Joan of Arc.”
He showed her the sketches he’d made — he calls them studies. Figure drawings, those are the charcoals; and color studies, that’s what he called the pastels. I wish I looked better in profile. There was one sketch where I thought I looked pretty, and I said I liked that one, and he said briskly not to be silly; that was the weakest one of the lot. Then he ruffled Mimi’s hair and asked her if
she’d
like an ice-cream sundae. He asked me if I couldn’t be a little bit late, just this once.
I said no, because I was already late, and how would I explain to Malka? But Mimi said yes. David asked me if I’d take his portfolio home, so he wouldn’t have to carry it to the pharmacy, and the two of them sauntered off together. He said we’d have
our
ice cream another time. Another time, another time! That’s the phrase that sang in my heart as I walked home, carrying the sketches and the portfolio — it was heavier than it looked — and my parasol.
I think David must like me pretty well if he’s going to buy me a sketchpad
and
see me another time. Perhaps he will teach me more about how to draw.
I was nervous when I went inside, because I didn’t know what Malka would say if she saw me with Mr. David’s things, but she was dozing with the cat in her lap, and I crept past her on tiptoe. I put David’s things back in his room and went to tidy my hair. My skirts were grass stained and there were chalk streaks on my dress, but they’ll wash out, I’m sure. At any rate, my apron covered them, and Malka didn’t notice. Once she woke up, she scolded me dreadfully, because last night I forgot to scald the dishcloths, so this morning they smelled.
I bore her scolding without fretting, because the truth was I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about David.
Tuesday, September the fifth, 1911
Today was a very irritating day. But there! I begin too many entries in this book with “today.” I’ll start over.
I am
not
in a good humor this evening. (I don’t think that’s any better.) I sinned, to begin with, and I didn’t even enjoy it. I suppose that’s what it means when they talk about miserable sinners.
The way I sinned was I skipped instruction with Father Horst. I wasn’t sure he’d be willing to see me, not after last week’s quarrel and my missing Mass. I thought he might rebuke me or even send me away. But the sinful part was I wanted to meet Mimi so I could ask her not to tell Mrs. Rosenbach about seeing David and me in the park. And I wanted to buy a new dress, because it’s getting cooler and my uniforms are summery, and the stains from the pastels didn’t come out of my blue dress. My apron covers them, but the dress isn’t perfect anymore. I always want to have my clothes be nice, but then I rip them or stain them and I never feel the same about them after that.
So there was that. The morning began all wrong because I overslept, and Malka was in a bad humor because she tried to put a shoe over her bunion, which was a mistake. Now the bunion is throbbing again, and she’s in agony. Also, she’s sulking because she wants an electric carpet sweeper. It’s the latest thing, and her sister, Minna, has one. It doesn’t just brush the carpet; it sucks the dust right out. Mrs. Rosenbach doesn’t believe in it, so she refused to order one. That meant I had to hear about all the years Malka’s worked for this family and the sacrifices she’s made on their behalf.
I felt sorry for Malka, but I thought she would never stop talking so I could get out of the house. My conscience irked me because I thought a really nice girl would have sacrificed her afternoon off to spare Malka’s bunion. But I’d planned to meet Mimi at the store, and I wanted that new dress. So I left Malka close to tears and making doomed noises in Yiddish.
I caught the streetcar and met Mimi at Rosenbach’s. We went shopping and I spent
nine dollars and twelve cents,
which is
dreadful.
And what’s worse, I’m not sure I like what I bought. I bought a brown suit, and I don’t really like brown, no matter how well it wears. Mimi can call it fawn-colored all she likes, but it’s still brown. I wish I’d bought the blue one, but the skirt was too short and I’m sick of blue.
I wanted to buy a jumper suit, because it seems to me that they’re cheaper than shirtwaist suits. But Mimi said I needed a good shirtwaist suit, German linen or serge, and two white waists: one plain with tucks, and another with lace. She says my uniform dresses make me look like a hired girl, but I’ll look like a lady in a good shirtwaist suit.
I gave in to her because she really does know about clothes. And the brown suit was a bargain and it fit nicely. If it weren’t brown, I’d be pleased with it. The skirt has eleven gores and flares at the hem, and the jacket has little arrow decorations on the sleeves, which are fancy. I found a plain pleated shirtwaist for thirty-nine cents, and a lacy one for ninety-five cents. Then Mimi made me buy a new pair of gloves. Mine are white, and she said I needed tan ones. That was another eighty-three cents.
I was shocked when she added up all the prices for me — she is surprisingly quick when she adds numbers in her head. But then she said I needed a new hat, because my Cheyenne hat is summery. The new hat is trimmed with brown velvet ribbon and three pinky-brown roses, or maybe they’re meant to be peonies.
Then
Mimi said I ought to have a little bit of jewelry — a brooch or a necklace with a little cross. The little crosses were quite cheap, but I told her I was a Catholic and I didn’t want a cross but a crucifix. I thought perhaps that might be a moment when I could tell her a little about the True Faith. I started to, but she saw a case full of bracelets and we went over to look at them. There was a silver bracelet I liked, but Mimi wrinkled her nose and said it was too plain. That surprised me because it was beautifully engraved with curvy scrolls and lilies of the valley.
In the same department, we stopped to examine a tray of watch lockets. They were enameled with tiny flowers and oak leaves and shamrocks. They were so delicate and bright; they reminded me of Thumbelina. The fronts were gold and enamel, but the backs were only silver, so I thought I might be able to afford one. I didn’t need it, of course, but I had this image of myself in all my new clothes and David asking me what time it was. I imagined myself bending my head beautifully — in the vision I had a swan-like neck — and lifting the watch so he could see. I think I must be crazy to have ideas like that, but I did, and it made me want one of those enameled watches terribly.
But they were
nine dollars.
I turned away, aghast. I think if it had been five dollars, I would have been wicked and taken the money from my Belinda fund. Ma told me that money isn’t for toys, or pretty clothes, or even books, but I think I’d have bought one of those watches if they’d been five dollars, though five dollars is a dreadful, dreadful price to pay for something you don’t need. The funny thing is, I think I wanted the watch even more after I found out it was so expensive. I wonder if I’ll ever have anything expensive.
But
nine
dollars. Ma would turn over in her grave. I’d already bought a hat and a suit and two waists and gloves, and I had to buy Mimi an egg cream so I could beseech her not to tell Mrs. Rosenbach about David and me walking in the park.
We left Rosenbach’s and went to the drugstore. Mimi wanted a chocolate ice-cream soda instead of an egg cream, so I ordered two. I was wondering how to get to the subject of David and me, but Mimi got there first. She used the tip of her spoon to shave the tiniest bit of ice cream off the dollop in her glass. “You don’t have to buy me a soda, you know. David already told me not to tell.”
She is the most provoking child! It took my breath away, the way she could see through me. I couldn’t think of a thing to say back.
“I’m not a tattletale,” Mimi said. I could tell she was enjoying herself. “But you’d better not fall in love with David.”