Free Night Blindness by Susan Strecker Page A

to remind Nic that before I’d dropped out of UCB for him, I’d finished everything. I’d gotten perfect grades and was on the student council and taught piano lessons to kids in the New Haven projects for free.
    I used steel clamps to fasten an unfinished canvas to the easel and got out the paints. My phone rang as I was mixing up the blues. “Hey there,” I said.
    â€œWhy didn’t you call me back last night?” Nic asked.
    â€œSorry. I was out with Mandy. I haven’t seen her since I’ve been home.” I stared at that fleck of light in the portrait’s eyes.
    â€œDidn’t you get my messages?”
    â€œI got home late.” I thought maybe if I painted over that piece of light, they might become my eyes. They were so close, but not quite right.
    â€œHadley said he tried to get you, too.” A strange alliance seemed to have formed between my husband and my friend since I’d been gone.
    â€œHadley texts so much, his thumbs are going to fall off,” I said.
    â€œThat doesn’t explain where you were.”
    â€œJesus, Nico, I’m sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of research and trying to keep my family together. It was nice to go out for a couple drinks and forget about everything for a little while.”
    He sighed. “Let’s not fall apart because your old man is.” The room darkened, and I moved to the window. I saw Nic in those sexy jeans with the patch on the ass. Clouds had covered the sun, and I could just make out the outline of the old goalposts in the northwest corner of the backyard.
    â€œHe’s not trying to fall apart, Nico.” I used to lie out there with Ryder and Will, staring at a clear sky.
    â€œHow’s he doing?”
    Paint was stiffening on the brushes; in Santa Fe, they would have been bone-dry by now. “Nothing’s changed since we talked yesterday. We’re waiting for his blood work to come back.”
    â€œDid you decide how long you’re staying?”
    When I walked by Nic that first time, I knew the guest professor was watching me, knew he could see the outline of my legs through my sheer skirt. It was rumored he slept with his students. “Look at her,” he’d said to no one. “Sad and beautiful.” I’d kept walking, as though I hadn’t heard, my face burning. I’d wanted so badly to stop, turn around, go to him. It’d been so long since I’d cared if a man had noticed me. “It’s not like I have to rush back to the café,” I said now. “Hadley said his gallery assistant can fill in until I get back.”
    â€œYour job is not to serve people coffee at Hadley’s gallery. You’re a model.” He sounded anxious.
    I left the window and wandered over to the Victorian dollhouse that my father had hired an architect to build. “That’s not really a job,” I said. “It’s just standing around naked for some rich guys who think they’re sculptors. Getting the right amount of foam on a latte, now, that’s a job.”
    â€œWell, Dante is a serious artist, and he needs you to model for him.” Nic sucked in his breath. “His show is in October.” The dollhouse was Tudor in style. It opened in the front so all the rooms were exposed. “He needs his model—”
    â€œEight weeks,” I said, interrupting him.
    He was quiet. The numbness arrived. It started as a faint ringing in my ears and then widened, like a diaphanous curtain, spreading through my limbs. I sat cross-legged in front of the dollhouse. I hated making Nico mad. “Jamie has to work, and my dad can’t drive.” We were supposed to spend the summer in Greece, looking for a house. He’d been talking about moving there for years.
    â€œI can’t be without you,” he told me, as plainly as if he were talking about oxygen.
    I put the mother in the bedroom, in front of the tiny vanity with