5. Sette
Sette
“ T hought I might find you here.”
Zara sat beside Sette on the bench, facing a Rembrandt.
The city’s art gallery was not the biggest in the country, but it always valued quality over quantity.
The paintings and other works of art that came through on rotation both inspired and quieted Sette’s artistic side.
She hadn’t been there lately. Too consumed with thoughts of her blessed muse.
Her friend, on the other hand, didn’t care for galleries much. “You look like some shithead broke your heart.”
Sette snuffed her laughter. Legs crossed, hands buckled around knees, she considered the Rembrandt in front of her – had even put on her wire-framed glasses to get a better look at it.
I’ve always admired his darker colors and the use of shadow .
Using light and shadow was lost on a lot of today’s artists.
Sette wouldn’t say she was the best at it either, preferring to light up the world with golden, bright colors, but she appreciated the complexions of the models and the stout demeanors they possessed.
Her favorite painting, Danae , was hung up as well. A pre-vandalism print, to be sure.
“You know,” she said, gesturing to Danae . “I was able to see that before, not long after it was restored. I was a little kid, but my parents decided to do the Trans-Siberian railroad one summer and took me along with them.”
“I vaguely remember you telling me about that before.”
Sette nodded. Great test of a child’s patience.
“We stopped in St. Petersburg for a while. It was one of my first real exposures to art. I remember my parents arguing whether or not it was appropriate for me to see nude models, even in paintings. My mother wanted me to be so sheltered, but my father said it was good to be exposed to bodies in their natural forms. Don’t you think that woman looks pretty natural? ”
Zara squinted. “She is definitely naked.”
“They say that was Rembrandt’s wife. Or at least the body is.
The face is his mistress’s. That pissed my mother off when she found out.
” I’ll hear her ranting about it for the rest of my life.
“When I was a kid, I thought she looked funny. I had never seen a naked woman that wasn’t on TV before.
My mother was always cautious about me seeing her naked.
I never saw my nanny naked, and I didn’t have sisters.
I didn’t see another girl naked until middle school PE. ”
“Anyway…”
“Anyway, I’m glad my father wanted me to see this nudity.
Do you see her folds? So many women have bodies that look like this, but they think they’re freaks.
I saw it all the time in my practice. Women who struggled for years to have the ‘perfect’ body, and boom, pregnant.
How could they have a pregnancy that didn’t give them stretch marks?
How long would it take for them to deflate?
Could I refer them to a plastic surgeon to ‘fix’ them?
It was one of the saddest things. Some of them even outright resented the babies I had helped deliver for making them look like this.
Instead of referring them to surgeons, I wanted to give them to therapists. ”
“That’s rough, girl.”
“That woman there is the beautiful average.”
“I believe you.”
I know. I’m running my mouth. Sette wanted to talk about anything but what Zara had on her mind.
Ever since she left the Manoir the day before, Sette had searched for something to preoccupy her mind with.
She didn’t want to finish her painting. Usually, she rushed right home to apply the colors that were still fresh in her mind.
Yesterday, however, she put the canvas in her studio, covered it up with a sheet, and drank brandy while watching The Good Wife .
“So we’re not going to talk about how the point of that painting is that Zeus is about to golden shower himself a baby in her? What kind of sicko was that Rembrandt guy, anyway?”
Sette burst out in laughter. One of the gallery security guards gave her a stink eye. It made her think of how June had laughed the day before.
“Is your show still going on?” Zara asked.
Sette stared at the print a little while longer before acknowledging her friend’s words. “It’s still going. Fourth of July weekend in New York. You gonna be there?”
“I’ll be there. I’m telling everyone that you’re the biggest shit of all big shits.”
“Thanks. I think.”
Zara looked away. “Is your model going to be there?”
Sette bristled, and not because the answer was no…
but because she didn’t want to be reminded of the conversation she had with Monique the day before.
She had caught her as she arrived at the Manoir to start her work week.
The first thing I noticed was that she looked two months overdue.
Instead, she’s one month awa y. Absurd. Sette was glad she wasn’t Mrs. Warner’s doctor. She would be beside herself with worry.
“She will be there.” Sette had confirmed that the day before.
Monique was more than willing to let June go on a holiday weekend trip to New York if it meant advertising the Manoir in the process.
No, what had depressed Sette was what happened when she asked to take June as her date to Etta Coleman’s wedding. Sette was still without her plus one.
Monique had brusquely informed her that would be pushing things unless she was her patron by then.
She then heavily implied that June had already been promised as Miquela Bolivar’s date for the event, to make up for Sette's absconding with her to New York the following weekend.
That. Sucks . It almost made her not want to go to the wedding, since there was a chance of seeing those two together.
What woman wanted to see the woman she loved on the arm of another? That she had also slept with? Ugh.
Sette told her friend as much… or as much as she dared in a public, quiet place like a museum. There weren’t many other people wandering the hallowed halls, but that almost made it more important to be quiet.
“That’s rough.” Zara sniffed. “I don’t have a date, either. I say we both go solo. Pick up some desperate bridesmaids. You ever see that movie Wedding Crashers ? That could be us.”
“I might be game for that.” Sette had a second thought. “The going stag part, that is. You need to get me good and drunk in case I see June and Miquela together.”
“She’s not a bad woman…” When Sette glared at her, Zara held up her hands. “I’m just saying. She’s been nothing but nice to me since she started coming down to the marina. You liked her before you found out, didn’t you?”
No, Zara still didn’t know about Sette and Miquela going out on one date. Never mind how it ended. Sette felt like taking it to her grave right now. “Beside the point.”
“Not really. Although you never told me that June had such a great ass.”
“I swear I am going to ram your head through a Rembrandt.”
“From what I know about the man… he would appreciate that from the grave.”
“Don’t tell me you actually studied those photos.”
“I may… or I may not have. Like how you come in here and stare at paintings all day, I like to stare at my fair share of images.”
“Those pics were pornographic trash.”
“Yeah, but they were good pornographic trash.” Zara lowered her voice as a small group of kids wandered by. “All right. So it’s a deal. I’ll go solo with you to the wedding. That will make it easier for me to pick up chicks, anyway.”
“What the hell is it like to be a merciless playgirl, anyway?”
“Honestly? Kinda boring. In a way, I envy you. You may be sharing your woman, but at least you have one you’re in love with. I’m getting tired of this. I’m gonna be thirty soon. Maybe it is time I start settling down…” She grinned. “Nah.”
“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect woman for you soon enough. Who knows? She might even be at the wedding.” Sette sighed, dramatically – and on purpose. “I know mine will be.”
“Fucking gag.”
The security guard shot them another glare. One of the kids’ mothers gasped. Sheepish Zara apologized and pretended to be enthralled with the world of Rembrandt. Sette went back to staring at the replication of Danae , wondering if her depictions of June ever came across that truthfully.