The Paintings

A biology geek and an art geek complete their assignments.

Author's notes: All the characters are over eighteen. This was written for the Geek contest. I hope you enjoy it. Please vote and leave a constructive comment.

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Ryan sat at the small two-person table in the student union reading, with his books spread all over the table. He was deeply intent on the nucleotides, guanine, cytosine, adenine, and thymine, which make up deoxyribonucleic acid, better known to the rest of humanity as DNA. He had always been fascinated by biology, the study of living things and you can't get much deeper into biology than in studying genetics. The amazing complexity of the double helix and its mysteries stirred something deep inside of him. Made up of a backbone of alternating sugar deoxyribose and phosphate groups and attached to each sugar is one of only four bases, guanine, cytosine, adenine, and thymine in the double helix are precisely and only matched up A to T and C to G making it able to unzip and reproduce itself precisely. Why, it almost seemed magical. As he read, he tuned out everything around him.

"Ahem...AHEM...HEY," he heard, startled out of his concentration.

Looking up, he saw a woman, "Yes," he said, a bit irritated at the intrusion into what to him was a sacred moment.

"Can I sit here?" she said in just as irritated a voice.

Ryan stopped and, frowning, glanced around. There were other tables with empty chairs, and he was about to question why she had to land here when his mother's admonitions always to be polite slapped him on the side of the head.

"Yeah, sure," he grumbled, lowering his eyes in hopes of catching the sacred moment again.

"Can you move some of your stuff?" the persistent interruption returned growling.

Returning from his almost spiritual moment, he grumbled, "Yes, sure," and cleared a place on her side of the table by piling two books on a third and stuffing four and five in his backpack.

She took the seat, and Ryan again tried to go back to his book. Now settled in, his eyes widening with the grasp of the information, he was interrupted again.

"So, what are you geeking out about?" she asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Ryan was profoundly insulted. Geek was never used, except seemingly for IT types. He had been called a geek before, and it had never been used as a compliment.

"That's not a very nice thing to call someone," he growled.

For the first time, he looked at the woman. She was pretty, he had to admit, although the purple highlights in her hair, the piercings of her nose and lip, her white cotton tank top, and her obvious lack of a bra combined to give her an overall artsy look, which wasn't something that would draw him to her.

Squinting in what looked like actual confusion, the woman said, "Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. I simply meant what are you reading?"

"Well, geek or geeking about something is a pejorative," he said with just a hint of unsureness.

Leaning back, she replied, "You have me wrong. A geek is someone knowledgeable about and obsessively interested in a particular subject or niche interest. I am just using a gerund geeking to ask you what you are so interested in."

"I still don't like that adverb obsessively," he replied, not to be outdone by her part of speech mention.

Squinting again, she said, "To my way of thinking, we are all geeking about something. I geek about Art and Art history," she said, pulling out the biggest book he had ever seen from her backpack. Some people geek about computers. You were so intent on your book that I was interested in what you are ... so passionate about," she replied, changing her modifier to mollify him.

Somewhat placated, Ryan reverted to his much more common shy demeanor, especially around women.

"Sorry," he replied, dropping his head.

"So?" she asked again.

"Biology," he replied, looking her in the eyes.

They were beautiful eyes. Yes, she had some weird color eyeliner but she did have beautiful blue eyes.

"Biology, so what are you reading in the book? Even I, a stupid art major, know there is a lot to biology," she said.

"Why did you call yourself stupid?" Ryan asked.

"Oh, come on. All of you STEM majors think Art Students are getting the equivalent of a diploma in underwater fire control," she smirked.

"I don't. I had to take a course in art appreciation in my freshman year, and it was the hardest course I have ever taken," he replied honestly.

She sat a moment surveying him, trying to decide whether he was real.

"Did you take it from Withers?" she asked.

"No, it was Noland," he replied.

"Well, that's why. She is a BITCH! I took Art History 101 from her, and I had so much trouble with it that I was thinking of changing my major to something easy like particle physics," she said seriously and then burst into laughter.

Ryan didn't show amusement, although he thought it was funny, "So, have you taken any biology classes?"

"Just Bio 101 and 102 as required. That wasn't easy either," she replied.

"Who did you take it from?" Ryan asked.

"Bennington," she replied.

"I can see why. I had a lab with him, and he couldn't explain how to pith a frog properly," he said, smiling.

"A smile? You can actually smile?" she said in the accent of a southern belle, putting on a fake amused look and clutching her chest.

Ryan blushed and chuckled at his embarrassment.

"DNA," he said.

The woman scowled.

"The subject of the book," he said.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, realizing he was answering her question. "All that deoxyribonucleic acid and nucleotides, interesting."

Cocking his head in surprise, he blurted, without thinking first, "You know about it?"

"Of course, I just told you I took Bio 101. We spent a third of the course on genetics. I don't have Alzheimer's, you know," she said and smiled.

It was a beautiful smile, a smile he wanted to see again.

Embarrassed, he blurted out, "I didn't mean to...," and then his mind stalled.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it," she said and gave him another smile, which was what he wanted.

"So, what are you geeking out about...your book?" he asked.

"Art appreciation, the Renaissance period. You know the greats, Michelangelo, DaVinci, and the like," she said.

"Yeah, that's interesting. By the way, I'm Ryan," he said, reaching his hand out to shake.

She took it, saying simply, "Elizabeth, but if you call me that, I will sic my brother on you. Call me Liz."

"So, tell me about yourself, Liz," he heard himself say.

"You want me to tell you about myself?" she asked, "Why?"

This caught Ryan by surprise.

"Because you are

(after a long pause)

interesting," he said.

"And you like...interesting?" she replied.

He just looked at her and chuckled.

"Ok, I am from upstate. I have a brother who is a big pain in the ass, but what can you do. I am a senior studying Art, and I would love to be an artist in the vein of a Sofonisba Anguissola, but I fear I do not match her talent and style, nor do I have a family like hers that would support that," she chuckled.

"Isn't she the woman who was employed by Philip II of Spain and even swapped drawings with Michelangelo?" Ryan asked.

"You know about her?" Liz said excitedly.

"Yeah," he replied.

"But I know for a fact you didn't learn that in your art appreciation course," she said dumbfounded.

"No, I just like to read, and well, I read about female artists of the Renaissance once," he replied, embarrassed.

"You are an odd STEM student," she pondered.

"How so?" he asked.

"Well, STEM students aren't usually interested in anything but their chosen field," she replied.

"And I have seen most art majors are usually only interested in art and rarely know anything about genetics," he replied, laughing. "I still haven't heard much about you."

Glancing at her watch, Liz squealed, "Shit, I've got to get to class."

"Can we get together and continue the conversation later?" Ryan asked.

Stunned, she looked at him, "Sure. When?"

"Dinner tonight at that famous restaurant Dining Hall One?" he posed.

She thought a moment and replied, "Meet you at Dining Hall One at 5:00."

"Ok," he smiled.

Normally, he would have been irritated by the interruption, and a profound interruption it was. He found it difficult to go back to his reading. Somehow, nucleotides were not as alluring as this Liz was. Ryan, too, had a class that afternoon, so he picked up his stuff and took his time to get to the Lawrence building, where all the biology classes were and he had spent most of the nearly four years he had been on campus. He found a bench and finally reestablished his desire to learn about nucleotides.

Ryan was seated on one of the benches outside Dining Hall One at ten minutes to five. Students were beginning to file in, and he was always early to everything. That's what usually put women off that he had met. Well, that's what he chalked it up to anyway. Amazingly, he saw her slowly strolling up the hill.

"Hi," she said in what seemed to him almost like a song.

"Hi," he mumbled shyly, reverting to his more introverted self.

They went through the cafeteria line, and he graciously dug out his student card to pay for both.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," Liz said surprised.

"I want to," he replied.

Chuckling, she said, "Interesting," and then took off and left him behind.

He quickly caught up as she found them seats at a nearly empty table.

"What did you mean by interesting?" he asked, sitting on the bench seat attached to the institutional dining table.

"You said you wanted me to tell you about myself because you found me interesting, and I guess you are willing to even pay for it," she said, laughing.

Ryan smiled and thought, "Actually, I am."

"So, tell me all about Liz," he said, chuckling.

"OK, but only if I get to hear all about Ryan," she said, again smiling that smile he liked so much. "As I said, Mom and Dad live in upstate. I have a brother who is still a big pain in the ass, but what can you do. I am a senior studying Art and would love to be a classical artist, but the world doesn't work on the patron-client economy anymore. I've thought of graphic art and taken a couple of courses, but my real love is oils, and well, there isn't much call for that in a world where one painting can be copied right down to the texture of the paint on the canvas a hundred times and sold for the cost of a mediocre pair of shoes."

"I know it's sad that at some clothesline art sales I have been to, the frames cost more than the painting," he said, sighing.

"You've been to clothesline art sales?" she sputtered.

"Sure, I like art. I am not artistic in any sense of the word. I admire those who can think of something and then recreate it on paper, canvas, or even stone. Stick figures are the best I am capable of. I'm kind of envious," he said again, sighing.

Liz sat for some time staring at him.

"That's about it. What about you?" she said.

"I'm from upstate, too, but from the boonies. I have a sister, and she, too, is a pain in the ass," he chuckled. "I am a senior studying biology. I hope to continue with a Master's and perhaps get a job somewhere, hopefully in research. Straight biology isn't a booming business either without a Ph.D., and I don't have the money or brains to get that far," he concluded.

And so, their conversation went, and they discovered that they grew up nearly neighbors and all sorts of interesting facts. When they finished, Ryan looked at his watch.

"Thanks, Liz. This has been very nice. Unfortunately, I have to go to the lab and work on my slides for Advanced Histology," he said, gathering everything on his tray to return it.

"So, you are studying about microscopic structures in cells," she said also preparing to return her tray.

Pole axed he sputtered, "You know what Histology is?"

Squinting, she replied, "Yes, I do know some things."

"I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that you are the first person outside of biology majors that I've met who knew what it is. You are...interesting," he mumbled.

"So, what is this you need to go to a lab?" she inquired as she dumped the recycles in the recycle bin and the trash in the trash bin.

"Yes, I have to make one hundred slides of various tissues I have...harvested from a frog," he said, hoping it wouldn't gross her out like most women.

"So, they let you go to the lab after hours?" she queried.

"Yes, it is open all night. I have been walking down the hill to the dorm more than once when the sun is coming up. Most of the class is leaving when I show up, but I have so much other homework that I can only do it in the wee hours of the morning," he said.

"Wow, that's dedication. Would you like company?" she asked.

Ryan scowled, confused.

"Well, I mean, maybe I can help," she offered.

"You would do that?" he asked bewildered.

"Sure, sounds like fun," she replied.

"Ok," Ryan stammered.

She took his arm as they walked up the steep hill to the Lawrence building. It felt like bolts of electric shocks went up his arm. In the lab, Ryan became all business and began preparing his slides, explaining as he went along. The specimens of ten different tissues had already been preserved and embedded in paraffin. He had to slice the specimens using a microtome, put them on a slide, use the proper stain on them, and put a cover glass on them.

Liz actually was a big help, but the work is slow and meticulous. He put the last cover glass on the last slide just before sunrise.

"Didn't you say you had to make one hundred? You have two hundred slides here," Liz questioned, yawning.

"Yes, but there are always failures. The requirement is ten slides for each tissue, so I doubled it. I hope that among the twenty, I can find ten acceptable ones," he replied, catching her yawn. "I still have to sort them. I know it is really late, but do you mind, if I just spot-check a few?"

"Sure, but can I look at a few, too," she said.

"Sure, here," he said, stepping aside so she could see.

After looking at about half a dozen, she said, "I thought you said you weren't artistic."

"I'm not," he replied.

"What do you call this?" she said, pointing at the microscope.

All he could do was give her a confused stare.

"Are you kidding me? These slides are beautiful. You had to prepare everything properly, like I do in a studio. You had to slice them to the correct thickness, place them properly, and adhere them correctly. You had to mix the stains, apply them properly, time them just right, and do all that washing and rinsing. You had to cover them and now check them, adjusting anything necessary. And they are beautiful representations of things that cannot be seen with the naked eye. How can you say this isn't art?" she said, seemingly in awe.

Ryan was stunned at her recitation.

"You really are...interesting," he whispered. Sighing, he said, "But whatever, I must get you back to your dorm."

"Oh, I can get there by myself. My dorm is Bailey way across campus," she said, carefully placing the slide she had looked at in the case.

"No, there are enough crazies out there. I will walk you," he said with finality.

Shrugging, she said, "OK."

As he walked her to her dorm, they exchanged phone numbers and held hands.

>>>>>

The next day, they met for dinner again at the cafeteria, and Liz said, "I've got a project for advanced contemporary art. It is to be three canvases that must have a cohesive theme and done without using any standard application devices like brushes on blank unframed canvas."

"No, brushes," Ryan said, whistling.

"That's not the hard part. They have to have a sexual theme," she whispered.

Ryan's eyes popped open.

"Walsh, that dyke is always coming up with something like this. I bet she rubs off on them when we turn them in," she sputtered.

"I'm not much good at art, but if you need help or can find something for me to do, I will be glad to help you...to repay you for your help," Ryan stuttered.

"Don't you have to finish up what you were doing?" she asked.

"No, they need more dry time, and I have three weeks before I have to turn them in," he replied.

"Well, I really could use your help, but I am not sure you would want to," Liz said the first time, turning shy.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"I don't want to talk about it here. Will you come to the studio?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied, holding the door as they left.

The last of the students were exiting as they entered the Henderson Building where all the art classes were held.

"They let you use the studios after hours?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, just like you biology...students," she replied, careful not to use the G word.

She found a suitable studio in the back on the second floor.

"This should be private enough. If anyone else decides to work late, they will use one of the studios downstairs," she said.

"So, what are we doing?" he asked.

"The canvases are due in three weeks. I am starting now because, like your slides, they need adequate time to dry, and I have to attach the canvases to their framework. The medium is going to be water-based paint. As I told you, the themes have to coordinate, be sexual in nature and contemporary in that we can't use the usual application methods like brushes or spatulas," she told him.

"What can you use?" he asked.

She paused a long time before saying, "It has to be body parts."

"Oh, like finger painting?" he replied.

She hung her head, unsure how and what to respond.

"No, we can't use our fingers," Liz croaked.

Confused, he said, "Elbows, knees, noses?"

Liz rubbed her head and turned around, saying just above a whisper, "No, it has to be our...bodies, our torso."

"Oh, like tummy or chin?" he said, now really confused.

"Our genitals," she replied, still turned away from him.

"What?" Ryan replied. "How does a teacher demand that."

"It's what it is," she said, turning and sighing deeply. "The idea is to expand our minds and to use other things in our art. This is about contemporary art. The kind of art most people look at and say I can do that. The kind that does look like a chimp could do it, but it isn't that easy. There are rules and methods like you in the Histology lab follow."

He stopped to think.

"I guess what you are saying does make sense. You artists draw nudes and have a different...way of doing things. Those of us in biology do dissect cadavers, and they can't be clothed," he said thoughtfully. "So, what do I do? How can I help?"

"Thank you," Liz said, embracing him.

"My first canvas I wanted to title Yoni, Kuca, and Lingam," she replied.

"From the Sanskrit meaning...vagina and phallus. I assume kuca is breast?" he interrupted.

"You are so...interesting," Liz exclaimed. "I won't ask how you know that. You are amazing. Yes, but that dyke Walsh insists I change it to Pussy, Tits, and Cock. How the fuck am I going to take them home and tell my mother that's what their title is and how I made them?"

"Titles can be changed. Sometimes the absolute truth isn't always the best," he sighed.

She looked at him, her mouth open, shaking her head.

"Psych 101," he said, nodding.

"How do we do this?" Ryan asked.

Liz then went about gathering the canvas, explaining as she went. She prepared the canvases, ensuring they were completely covered with white paint, and set them with fans to dry. The first and second were about four feet by six feet, but the third was at least ten feet by ten feet. She gathered her paints, telling Ryan that they were safe for use as they would use them, and meticulously mixed several different colors in what Ryan considered a considerable quantity of each. Ryan noticed that she was just as meticulous as he had been in the lab, and it took some time. Checking the canvases at around two in the morning, she announced they were dry enough to use and pulled one of the two smaller ones down. She then had Ryan help her gather some furniture, a table, a wooden chair, and a plastic-covered overstuffed chair. Liz seemed to test each piece of furniture, bending over the table, sitting in the wood chair in several positions, as well as the overstuffed chair. Once she placed them the way she wanted, having Ryan change the positions several times, she turned to him.