Negative Space XXI

By Myra Love

May 14, 2002

 Chapter XXI

"I've been looking all over for you," Amanda said as I walked back into the kitchen. "Anita Carswell called and wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know where you'd gotten to."
"I'll call her back," I said and headed towards the wall where the phone hung. When I dialed her number, however, there was no answer.
Perturbed, I hung up the phone. "Did she say where she was calling from?" I asked, but Amanda wasn't paying attention. Instead she was telling Jason to make a pot of coffee.
I walked over to Amanda and tapped her shoulder. She whirled around to face me, an annoyed look on her face. "What?" she demanded.
"I phoned Miss Carswell's number, but no one answered," I said.
"Of course, no one answered," she replied. "She's not at home. She phoned from the police station." With that Amanda turned back to Jason, who was having trouble remembering how to use the coffee maker.
"Don't you drink coffee at school?" she demanded.
"Yeah, I drink it all right. But someone else makes it."
I shook my head and went to look for Andy. I didn't know the police station's number, but I was sure he did.
I found him talking to Stew, who was telling him a long, apparently pointless story about teaching mathematics to undergraduates. Andy was listening politely, but he brightened when he saw me. Stew just smiled at me with an amused expression.
"Is the old woman done with you?" he asked.
I nodded and grinned at him. "And with you too, I see."
He nodded in turn. "Yes. Peculiar, isn't she?"
I had to laugh because that was the same word Lore Harnisch had used to describe him, and I thought they were both right. I turned to Andy and said, "I need the number for the police station."
He raised his eyebrows but didn't ask why. He pulled a cellular phone out of his pocket, punched something into it, and handed it to me. The officer who answered told me that Miss Carswell was there but couldn't come to the phone as she was in conference with what he called "a bunch of lawyers."
"Is it about Donald Dunn?" I asked.
"Sorry," he replied, "I don't know. And even if I did, I couldn't tell you."
He hung up on me, and I gave the phone back to Andy who didn't put it away. "What's up?"
"Amanda told me that Miss Carswell called from the police station and wanted to talk to me, but I can't get through to her." I repeated what the officer had told me on the phone. Andy just rolled his eyes, punched the numbers into the phone again, identified himself, and asked where Miss Carswell was. After a few minutes, during which he merely repeated "uh-huh" several times, he asked the officer to have Miss Carswell phone him as soon as she was done there. Then he rang off and put the phone away.
"Apparently your brother is talking to someone from the district attorney's office. His lawyer, a police representative, and your father are with him. So is Miss Carswell."
When Andy said no more, I asked him if he was disappointed not to be there too. He said that he was a little, but he was also relieved that Miss Carswell was present. "That way I know your brother will get a fair deal."
I wasn't so sure. If Donald wouldn't listen to his attorney I doubted that he would listen to Miss Carswell, especially since he'd admitted to me that he couldn't stand her. Fortunately, I was wrong. But I wouldn't find that out for a while. In the meantime I was on pins and needles.
Andy noticed right away that I was restless and nervous, but he didn't know what to do. "You just have to be patient," he said. "She'll phone when she gets out of the meeting."
"But what if she doesn't get your message?" I whined.
He patted my arm in an effort to be reassuring. "I know the officer on the desk. She'll get the message."
It wasn't that I didn't believe him, just that I couldn't control my agitation. The person who helped was Diana. She came over, no longer looking at me as if she thought I was lower than dirt, and informed me that it was time to examine my sketches.
"Can I come too?" Andy asked her. "I think I've talked with enough people I don't want to know for one night."
We went into the room by the stairs and I got my sketchbook. I was relieved to see that no one had done anything to it. I had worried that Lore Harnisch might, despite her promising me she wouldn't.
"The light in here is no good," Diana announced. "Let's go into Amanda's study."
I hesitated, not sure how Amanda would feel about us invading her inner sanctum without her permission. Diana noticed and rolled her eyes. "Amanda is waiting for us there, Lisa," she said.
I blushed and followed her and Andy, my sketchbook tucked safely under my arm. I was relieved when no one stopped us as we traversed the house. The party seemed to be breaking up. And Lore Harnisch was nowhere to be seen.
Amanda was sitting where she always used to sit when I came to visit on Saturdays. She smiled at me as I walked in. "Just like old times," she said.
I smiled back. "Except for these extra folks." I indicated Diana and Andy with a wave of my hand.
Amanda nodded. "I hope you don't mind, Lisa, but I offered Diana the use of my study in exchange for being allowed to sit in."
"I don't mind," I replied. And I didn't, though I felt I should have had some say in the matter.
Diana was glaring at Amanda with that disgusted look again. I wondered how I could have been so dense as not to have realized right off that Diana disliked her. I cleared my throat and Diana's face cleared as well. She looked at me. "Okay, give!" she said, holding out her hand for my sketchbook. "And come sit here next to me so you can tell me what I'm seeing, if I have any doubts."
I followed her orders. Andy came and stood behind me. Amanda remained where she was at first, but as Diana slowly paged through my sketches, she got curious and came over to where we were gathered.
"I guess you're not going to include me otherwise," she said softly.
Diana just sniffed and continued to look through my sketches.

After almost an hour Diana was finished. "I like them," she said. "I think we might be able to use some of the earlier ones for the book. And if you're interested after you read the manuscript, you could do a few more drawings specifically to illustrate the text. We could talk about which pieces of text lend themselves to illustration."
I nodded, relieved and a little surprised it had gone that easily. Andy, however, was full of questions. He directed them randomly at Diana, Amanda, and me.
"I'm an art idiot," he began, "but these sketches look really different from each other. At least I think so. Don't you?" This was directed at Diana.
She shrugged. "I suppose so. Some of the difference is developmental, I think. Lisa's drawing has simply gotten better over time. The earlier sketches are simpler and less detailed. That's why some of them are suited for a children's book."
"I guess so," Andy agreed hesitantly. "But I mean something else. The earliest drawings are petty simple and then they get more complex, it's true. But then they get positively overloaded." He blushed. "At least that's how it looks to me. The ones she did earlier today seem spooky to me, you know, almost haunted."
"Her canvas has gotten more crowded," Amanda observed. "And her use of negative space has changed."
"Huh?" Any grunted. "Could you explain that please?"
Amanda seemed slightly baffled. "Well, the negative space in her earliest sketches is really just empty background, very spacious but almost recessive, timid or shy, if you know what I mean. In some of the later drawings it gives shape to the objects. And in the most recent ones, well, you're right, it's rather haunting, almost obtrusive, as if it's trying to push itself into the foreground."
She shook her head. "I don't know if I really like the latest drawings, but they are powerful. More powerful, in fact, than the others. There seems to be a struggle between objects and space, as if the objects are fighting for their existence as objects."
She shook her head again and frowned. "I don't think I'm saying this very well."
"You're doing fine," I told her.
"She is?" Andy asked, still perplexed. "I'm still not sure I know what negative space is."
Diana grinned at him. "Artists' jargon," she said.
I shook my head. "No, it's more than that. Objects only exist because of the negative space that surrounds and defines them. Think about it."
Diana grinned at me this time. "Very Buddhist," she said.
"But I thought you're a Methodist," Amanda said, sounding shocked..
"Yes, Diana replied seriously, "we are Methodists in my immediate family. But my ancestors were, to quote your mother, heathens. Very intelligent heathens who understood that nothing arises or exists independent of anything else. A useful world view for an artist or a writer. Some of my cousins are still Buddhists," she added, "the ones I get along with."
"Well," Andy said. "I think I understand now. Sort of. You women are certainly deep, I'll grant you that." He leaned over and rested his face on top of my head. "I like that."
"Nice," Diana said. "A man who likes deep and intelligent women. Are you from this planet?"
Andy laughed, and I hoped she wasn't flirting with him.
"Jason likes deep and intelligent women," I interjected. "After all, he's gone out with the two of us." I was surprised to find myself defending Jason.
Diana looked at me and winked. "I think you and Andy are pretty well-matched," she said, ignoring my remark about Jason. Andy blushed.
Amanda, however, smiled at me warmly. "I'll tell Jason you said that. It will mean a lot to him."
"Give him a swelled head is more like it," Diana grumbled.
That was when Andy's cell phone rang.

We picked up Miss Carswell at the police station, Andy, Diana, and I. My father had already gone home by the time we got there.
"So," Andy said, once he'd gotten her settled in the back seat of his car next to Diana, "a successful evening?"
Miss Carswell laughed. "Very successful from the perspective of the district attorney's office and that young man, I think. I, however, am exhausted."
"Why don't we drive you home instead of to the party?" Andy offered. "It's pretty much over anyway."
"Very well," Miss Carswell agreed. "I'll put on a pot of tea. Or coffee, if you prefer."
I looked back at Diana, wondering how she felt about being unceremoniously abducted. She didn't seem to mind at all. "You took the manuscript, didn't you?" she asked.
I had her manuscript and my sketchbook on in the trunk of the car along with Andy's psychology notes, I reassured her.
"Then everything's under control," she said and seemed to relax for the first time since we'd arrived at the party.
"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Andy demanded. "Or will we have to wait until we get to your house?"
Miss Carswell chuckled. "Patience is necessary for good police work, isn't it, Andy? And for an actor, timing is everything."
Andy shrugged and grunted, "I guess so, damn it!" But I could tell his response was good humored.
It was past eleven when we got to Miss Carswell's house. We went into the kitchen and she put on hot water. I wasn't aware that Diana had ever been there before, but she seemed to know her way around and found the rather well-hidden bathroom without needing to ask.
Soon we were all drinking tea as Miss Carswell recounted the events of her evening.
"I was waiting for Bob to pick me up for the party," she began, "when I got a phone call from the district attorney's secretary asking if I had a little time to come to the police station. A little time! More like four hours! When I pressed her for details, she told me that Donald Dunn had told the police he'd be willing to talk about the people he worked for if I were present to make sure everything was on the up and up. This surprised me, as I'd been given to understand that he was absolutely opposed to having the lawsuit by that elderly couple brought to mediation because he found me intolerable."
I flinched, and Miss Carswell shot an amused look in my direction.
"He's not the first, Lisa, and he won't be the last."
She sipped her tea and continued. "I phoned Bob and told him I'd get to the party on my own. Then an officer came and drove me to the station. I found Ralph Dunn there along with the lawyer assigned to Donald. And the chief assistant to the district attorney had just arrived as well as the chief of police."
Andy sighed, and she grinned at him. "I asked if you were going to be present, but the chief said it was your night off and he didn't want to disturb you. Didn't want to share the credit is more like it."
"So what happened?" I demanded.
Miss Carswell raised her eyebrows. "Well, it seems that the your father told Donald that he didn't have a choice since he's a minor. The suit was going to be brought before me whether he liked it or not. At that point, Donald had a panic attack and said he'd rather go to hell than come before me for mediation. He demanded that your father leave him alone and started calling for Andy, his 'boy in blue'. When told that Andy was not available, he pounded his fist against the wall and had to be restrained. Then he started to cry and said he would tell the police about his drug dealing as long as he didn't have to go to mediation."
She shook her head. "I learned all of this from the police officers who'd restrained him." She sighed. "When I asked why I was invited to be present, given the depth of his aversion to me, the police chief said that after agreeing to talk to them, he insisted that I be called to sit in on the interview. Apparently Donald remembered that you had told him I was the most trustworthy person you knew, so he decided to trust me as long as I agreed not to ask him any questions or talk to him at all but just to listen and make sure he got a fair deal from the prosecutor."
"How weird!" Diana said.
"Yes, I'd agree with that," Miss Carswell went on. "Donald's lawyer hadn't really asked for a deal. In fact, it was hard for Ralph to persuade the boy to cooperate if the lawyer was present at all. He was afraid that the lawyer would sell him out to his former employers. However, the prosecutor offered to suggest that the judge allow him to serve his sentence in a halfway house at the other side of the state." Miss Carswell made eye contact with me. "He really doesn't want to come home."
"How did my father react to that?"
"He accepted it," she said quietly. "What else could he do?"
"So Donald named names and described the drug dealing operation. At first the prosecutor wanted him to testify once his suppliers were arrested, but I suggested that his testimony would not have the weight of testimony by an adult who had not been involved in drug trafficking. So the police will send in an undercover officer and break up the operation using the information provided by Donald." She sighed. "The chief was so delighted at the chance to garner some glory that he offered to use money from one of his discretionary funds to pay off the couple who were bringing suit. It won't even cost all that much. They'll probably settle for five hundred dollars after some haggling." She stopped to catch her breath. "The chief started treating Donald as something of a hero, much to the disgust of the assistant district attorney. I can't say that Ralph was all that pleased either. So Donald will be released on Monday into the custody of a representative of the court. That representative is none other than the police chief himself." She shook her head and laughed. "I think he saw the resemblance between Donald and Andy and has hopes of getting Donald to turn his life around and become a policeman as well."
I couldn't imagine Donald as a police officer. I couldn't imagine him as an adult at all, just the moody, discontented adolescent he was.
Andy cleared his throat. "How did the chief manage to get custody assigned to him with a competent parent present?"
Miss Carswell shrugged. "Ralph agreed to relinquish his and Ruth's parental rights. It was hard for him, but I think he saw that it was the best thing for all concerned. I don't know how Ruth will react though. I don't expect that she'll be at all pleased. I can't say I think much of a system that allows a husband to speak for his wife in that way, but so it goes. Of course, Ruth will have to sign the papers too, but I don't think she'll have much choice in the long run. You father," she looked at me, "is going to have one hell of a home life for a while. He really is a good man though, Lisa. Difficult and misguided at times, but his heart is in the right place."
I nodded. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't know.
"So?" Diana interjected.
"So all's well that ends well," Andy observed. He took a deep breath. "I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry," Miss Carswell replied fondly. "And don't give me that line about a growing boy who needs his nourishment."
Andy got up and opened her refrigerator. "Anyone else hungry?" he called out.
No one replied, so he pulled out a package of cheese and some salad greens. These he placed on the counter and went to the bread box on the shelf to get the rest of what he needed for a sandwich.
Once Andy had settled down at the table with his sandwich in front of him, he became very talkative. Miss Carswell told him not to talk with his mouth full of food. He grinned at her and swallowed. "So, you've been holding out on me," he began to tease her. "You never told me anything about your collection of fountain pens."
Miss Carswell looked at me quizzically, then turned back to Andy. "You never asked."
"Well, why would I?" he argued. "Who'd ever say to a friend, 'oh, by the way, do you collect fountain pens'? It's not an everyday question, is it?"
Miss Carswell just shrugged, but I chimed in. "Well, she's not an everyday person."
Diana laughed. "What is all this about fountain pens?"
"Lisa draws with them," Andy announced. And Jason uses them too."
Diana grimaced. "Well, he didn't tell me about them."
Andy grinned broadly, enjoying himself. "Lisa, why don't you pull out those five funny pens you have with you and show them to Diana?"
"They're not funny," I protested. "They're just fountain pens with good nibs for drawing."
"Nibs?" Diana asked. "What's that?"
"That's what they call the point," Andy replied quickly. "They're like a cult with their own private language. And at least half the people at that party tonight were members. No wonder I didn't have much to say to them. They're all penheads."
"Better than pinheads," Miss Carswell replied. "I don't know about you young people, but it's getting on towards one in the morning, and I need my sleep. If you two are interested in fountain pens," she said, addressing Andy and Diana, "you can come back here tomorrow afternoon for the pen club's holiday party and pen exchange."
"You mean it's not a members only party?" Andy teased.
She shook her head. "Now get yourselves home. Off with you."
We got up and cleared the dishes and cups from the table.
"Leave all that. I'll do it tomorrow," Miss Carswell ordered. "I need to lock up behind you. The days when I could leave my door unlocked out here in the country are long gone. Some people have been telling me it's not safe for a woman my age to live out here all by myself. But this is my home." She caught herself and stopped talking.
"Could I ask you a favor?" Diana said to her.
Miss Carswell nodded. "You can always ask."
"Can I stay here tonight? I don't want to go back to Amanda and Jason right now."
Miss Carswell peered at her intently for a moment. "Yes. I suppose it's too late to give them a call and tell them where you are. You can do that in the morning. Jason can take you back tomorrow after the pen club bash." She hesitated for a moment. "The guest room is in here," she indicated a room to the left of the kitchen. I sleep at the back of the house. If you're going to be here, you can lock up, Diana." She pointed to the hook where a single key hung. "Good night, all of you." With that she disappeared through the kitchen door.
Andy rattled his car keys and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Ready to go?" he asked.
"Not so fast," Diana said, indicating the dishes and cups in the sink.
"But she said to leave them," Andy protested.
"Because she didn't want to stay up while we did them," Diana replied. "And now she doesn't have to."
She tossed Andy a sponge. "You can wipe the table and then sweep the crumbs off the floor."
Andy grinned. "I've never swept with a sponge before."
Diana gave him a look. "Very funny.' Then she ran the water in the sink, and I grabbed a dish towel.
While we cleaned up, Diana told me that she'd get a rough draft of a contract together in the next couple of weeks and send it to me.
"A contract?" I asked. "What for?"
She shook her head. "What for? So our interests are protected, that's what for. I'm going to negotiate a contract with the publisher. Since you're going to be the illustrator, the contract should include you. We need to present a united front."
I was confused and said so. Diana smiled at me. "I'll get my brother who just finished law school to help me draw something up. That way we won't be at a loss when the publisher offers us his draft of a contract."
I must have looked as perplexed as I felt because Diana got very insistent. "This is a business arrangement, Lisa," she said. "We have to try to get the best deal we can. I want you to be involved. We're collaborators now. Besides, I just want to be sure that your interests get taken into account."
I shook my head. "I don't know a thing about contracts," I replied.
"Well, you can learn," Diana persisted. "You should learn. I'll send you a draft and you'll read it. Then we can email about it or talk on the phone. If you want, you can show it to a lawyer."
I shrugged. "Whatever you say. You obviously know more about this stuff than I do."
She seemed exasperated with me, but I was too tired to care. So when we were done cleaning up, I was more than happy to say good-night and let Andy drive me home.