16. Art Appreciation
The Dinner Party by Charley Hicks
If I could invite anyone living or dead to dinner, I would order two Maryland crab cake sandwich platters from Phillips Seafood and I would invite my father, Thad Hicks, who died during a routine surgery in September of my sophomore year of high school.
Love for the crab cake sandwich platter from Phillips is one of the things my father and I shared.
Another thing we shared is a love of reading. And so, although there are many topics I’d like to discuss with my father, I would start by telling him about the novel I have most enjoyed since he passed.
There’s a lot of competition for this honor, including Claire Lombardo’s masterpieces and anything by Lauren Groff, but edging those out is Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen.
I discovered Mariette on the shelves of my father’s home office.
I chose it simply because my father had dog-eared so many pages, as was his habit when he came across a thought or turn of phrase that resonated with him.
As I read Mariette myself, I tried to guess which lines had caught my father’s interest. Although the world-building of the convent in the novel is immersive, it’s Hansen’s writing that took my breath away.
I would love to read a line like, “Blood scribbles down her wrists and ankles and scrawls like red handwriting on the floor,” aloud to my father so we could sit in silence and marvel together.
My father’s dreams of a literary career were dashed by my grandparents’ pragmatic worldview: They insisted he attend law school.
He would end up becoming a successful litigator, but reading remained my father’s passion, one that allowed him to relax and escape.
He taught me the pleasure of losing myself in a book and periodically reminded me that reading would make me good company for myself.
As our dinner party drew to a close, my father and I would share a slice of Smith Island cake and I would thank him for instilling my love of reading.
For although the years since my father’s death have been tumultuous—my mother remarried a man I cannot stand and I chose to attend a boarding school four hundred miles from home where I didn’t know a soul—I have never felt alone.
My interior architecture is sturdy. It’s composed of every book I’ve ever read, from Bread and Jam for Frances to Wonder to The House of Mirth.
Before we parted, I would assure my father that I care nothing for pragmatism. I will seek a literary career, and it’s easy to imagine his smile.
By the second of November, every sixth-former applying Early Decision has submitted his or her application, and Mav takes a moment to celebrate one hurdle cleared.
He’d like to text his soon-to-be-ex, Amanda, but he knows she won’t respond, or worse, she’ll text back something like Good for you!
with the thumbs-up emoji. She is no longer in it with him, that much was painfully clear during their dinner at the Wooden Duck over Family Weekend.
Their conversation was lopsided. Amanda caught Mav up on all the gossip at Colbert: The daughter of the board president had come out as trans—the student body was supportive, the father less so.
One of the sixth-form “fac brats” had been caught “making a public space private” on a table in the dining hall in the middle of the night with a third-former whose parents were considering statutory rape charges.
Amber Sweeney was failing three classes and had lost her squash commitment from Bowdoin.
But when Mav tried to explain who was who at Tiffin—even which sixth-formers were in the restaurant that very night—Amanda tuned out. When Mav called her on it, Amanda admitted that she didn’t have the bandwidth to keep track of the drama at two schools.
“Well, what do you think I’m doing?” Mav asked.
“I’m sorry, John,” Amanda said, and the implication was clear: He could still be part of her world, but she would not be a part of his.
Mav settles for texting Audre: All ED apps are in!
She responds immediately: What does your gut tell you?
Audre should know that it’s impossible to predict who will get in where.
The whims and fancies of elite college admissions change year to year.
Long gone are the days when colleges were looking for well-rounded students—the kid who is student council president and plays the oboe and runs track and volunteers at the local animal shelter.
Colleges are no longer impressed by kids who do summer service projects in Appalachia with Habitat for Humanity.
Now, colleges are all about what makes a student stand out.
Mav suspects Audre is asking specifically about Madison J.
, the Head Prefect, who applied ED to Yale.
Madison is a strong candidate—but the days when the Head Prefects from top boarding schools get in wherever they want are over.
Madison J. is a student of color, but she comes from a privileged background; her mother, Naomi, went to Tiffin and then Brown.
The new darlings of college admissions officers are students from underserved high schools, both rural and urban. Liam Donovan, for example. In Liam’s case, financial aid is critical, so he’s casting a wide net and didn’t apply anywhere early.
Mav’s biggest concern is that he has three Tiffin students, all of them girls, applying ED to Miami: Davi Banerjee, Pippa Sacks, and Olivia Hudezech-Tottingknaffer.
The three girls have different strengths and weaknesses.
Davi and Pippa could both be considered nepo babies.
Olivia has the best grades and test scores, but she has no sense of self; Mav was at a loss writing her counselor recommendation.
What could he say about her other than that she lurked in the shadow of more secure girls?
To Audre, Mav responds: I can’t make any predictions. Everyone’s put in a lot of effort.
Mav is tempted to forward Audre the essay that Charley Hicks wrote, though he knows he’s in danger of egregiously favoring Charley. Charley is the only Tiffin student Amanda knows by name. She made some crack about how Mav was up to his old ways, picking favorites among the senior girls.
Be careful with Charley, Amanda said. You don’t want people to talk.
Mav said, Do you know how ridiculous you sound? He could have substituted the word “jealous” for “ridiculous.” Amanda sounded jealous! Mav clung to this. Maybe she still had feelings for him after all.
On Wednesday morning, Mav texts Audre about another matter.
I believe I mentioned that I volunteered to teach an informal art appreciation course.
The first class is tonight at 7 p.m. in the Sink if you want to stop by?
Also, I was wondering if I might ask for a small stipend in exchange for my time?
Three dots rose, then disappeared.
Then: I’m so sorry, John. Our budget doesn’t include discretionary funds for this. I understood that this was a passion project for you?
Oh, it is! Mav writes. Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Audre responds with the thumbs-up emoji, which puts an end to the discussion.
Dinner Service
Lilia Pop-Up
Wednesday, November 4
STARTERS
Cacio e pepe fritters
Grilled artichokes
SALAD
Little gem salad with pecorino and breadcrumbs
ENTRéES
Ricotta gnocchi with broccoli pesto and pistachios
Spaghetti with pine nuts and lemon
Grilled leg of lamb with Roman spices
DESSERTS
Olive oil cake with roasted nectarines and grappa syrup
Vanilla gelato and lemon granita
That night at seven o’clock, Mav sets up in one of the study rooms in the Sink, which are on the second floor directly across from the Senior Sofa.
The study rooms go largely unused because, at Tiffin, studying is a social endeavor.
When the kids lock in, they like to do so with other people around.
Mav has created a six-week syllabus for the class, which will take them to the end of term.
He’s decided to pair two artists per class; he’ll begin tonight with Modigliani and Bernini.
(This feels especially fitting after Chef’s Lilia pop-up.
Like everyone else in the Paddock, Mav took pictures of the food and sent them to Amanda as a bit of a fuck-you. The food at Colbert was revolting.)
There’s a knock on the door. It is, of course, Charley Hicks. Mav isn’t sure why he feels nervous.
“Hey, Charley,” he says. “Come on in.” Mav props the door open and calls out to the kids on the Senior Sofa—Liam Donovan, Pippa Sacks, Olivia H-T. “Hey, guys, I’m about to teach art appreciation. Anyone want to get cultured?”
He catches Olivia rolling her eyes and wishes he hadn’t been so generous in her counselor recommendation.
He looks at Charley. “Did you tell your friends? Davi?” He forces a smile. “East?”
“Davi is studying,” Charley says. “East has no interest in art.”
Mav nearly asks Charley why she’s with someone who doesn’t share her interests, someone who doesn’t even want to go to college. (East said he would stop by Mav’s office, but that has yet to happen.)
“Did anyone else say they would come?” Mav asks.
“What about Madison J.? Royce? Willow?” Mav sent an email to the entire student body.
He didn’t expect a lot of kids, but he was hoping for more than one.
Is Charley the only student at Tiffin who’s interested in learning for learning’s sake?
If so, isn’t Mav right to favor her a little?
Charley pushes up her glasses. “I’m not sure you should have to stay and teach this class for just me. That isn’t fair.”
“No, no,” Mav says. “I want to do it. I prepared.” The way he planned to teach the class was by projecting slides from his laptop onto the whiteboard.
He brings up the first slide: Modigliani’s Woman with Red Hair, which hangs in the National Gallery of Art.
The image is hard to see; he should really turn off the light.
Is it okay to turn off the light? If there were four or five—or even two—kids in here, Mav would do it without thinking. So what is his problem now?