The Mirror

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Valentine

Neal set off for his art studio at Columbia early on Saturday morning. Nazi hideouts, Adler, the Dutchman, and Azathoth could all be safely set aside for the weekend. He didn't even plan to spend much time thinking about the Braque painting. At the moment his own art was front and center. He not only had the upcoming exhibition for first-year grad students to prepare for but also the competition at Tac-Con.

When he arrived, he spotted Richard modeling a head in clay in the adjacent studio. Richard called him in. "What do you think?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Neal studied the bust. It was of a Black man, perhaps in his sixties. His lined face hinted at past struggles but his eyes were full of intelligence and humor. "It's a remarkable portrait. It makes me want to hear his life story. Who is he?"

"Lionel Ferbos. He's a jazz musician." Richard stepped back from the bust to stand beside Neal. "Stockman liked the creature sculptures I'm making for Tac-Con so I thought I'd try this on her. She despises my mobiles. She continues to call them erector sets."

Richard had spent the entire first term working on kinetic abstract mobiles. Professor Stockman had been less than enthusiastic, but he was painting a far bleaker picture than she ever had. "Don't psych yourself out," Neal warned. "I was there for the group critiques and she doesn't hate them."

"Dislikes profoundly?" Richard shrugged. "This is getting to my roots."

Richard was from New Orleans and a skilled jazz guitarist. He was marrying several elements of his personal story into his art. Neal predicted Stockman would be enthusiastic. "Have you finished your space creature sculptures?"

"Just about. I enjoyed sculpting them so much, I've been sketching ideas for several others. By the time I'm done, I may have enough to make an intergalactic zoo."

"You should consider it for the exhibition. I don't think that's ever been done before."

He chuckled. "Should I ask Stockman then duck? When I started grad school, I never thought that I'd wind up being so involved in science fiction, and I don't think it's simply because of Travis. He awakened a fascination that I had as a kid and has lain dormant for many years. That SFX course he suggested I take is having a profound influence."

"I heard that most of the biggest names in visual effects will be at Tac-Con. Are you going to check out job opportunities?"

He nodded. "I've already started researching possibilities. One of the most intimidating hurdles is the intense competition. Openings are scarce. The companies won't even talk to you if you don't have experience. That's why this competition means so much. The first prize for the sculpture competition is an intern position at Scima Gameworks."

"Are they a branch of Scima Workshop?" Neal asked, already impressed. Many of the biggest films of the past two decades came from the British film studio.

Richard nodded. "They're responsible for video gaming. Their studio's in SoHo in Lower Manhattan. That's such a dream job, it gives me chills simply thinking about it. I could quit my present job—I'm not that good at it, anyway. I could work on my art by day, play jazz at night, and live in the Village."

"Hmm. Travis lives in the Village. Any chance this dream future involves him?" Not that he didn't already know the answer.

The width of Richard's smile spoke volumes. "I hope so." He hesitated. "The lease on my apartment expires at the end of the month. Travis has asked me to move in. We both feel like we're ready even though we haven't known each other for long. It just feels right, you know?"

It was hard not to compare Richard's happiness to what Neal had with Fiona. They were in a relationship, yes, but they were also treading carefully. "Travis mentioned you'd stocked up on honey wine for Valentine's Day. Are you cooking?"