A special thank you for someone who read this story and helped me with a title (even though I didn't use his suggestions); someone who gave me the idea about the park bench; and someone who reminded me of first love and days long ago and inspired this story.Thanks, guys!
***
"God damn it!"
She was vaguely aware of the man's voice up ahead, but most of her attention was focused on the what she was hearing. The new black pledges to Omega Psi Phi, brands burned into their forearms, marched by, chanting "Omega Psi Phi gonna make it some day. "Smoke on the Water" poured out from one dorm, blending into "Long Train Running" and "Crocodile Rock" and the distinctive swish ker-ching of the opening chords of "Money" by Pink Floyd blasting from speakers placed in the windows of another. It was wonderful to hear something besides the Hum. Buzz. Snap! of the faulty fluorescent light in the music department office where she'd been cooped up inside all morning.
This afternoon was the last day of the university's Earth Day Fair. The campus's commemoration started as pamphlets passed out by what her roommates derisively referred to as "granola chicks" and had grown in the past few years into a week long festival of informational booths, tables selling natural teas and tisanes, students selling macramé and beaded necklaces and bracelets, and pavilions showcasing original artwork by students, faculty and other members of the community.
"Harlots! What is your husband going to think when he comes to you on your wedding night and finds out you're not a virgin?" The itinerant street preacher, Jed Smock, as much a fixture in the spring as the Frisbee-catching mutts wearing red bandanas, called out from his orange crate, conveniently positioned directly across from the row of bikini-clad coeds sunbathing on the soft grass of the quad.
She smiled. Boy, did he have the wrong girl! She was almost convinced that she was the only virgin left on campus. Even the ghost that haunted one of the women's dorms was murdered after spending the night with her lover. She wasn't holding on to her virginity out of any moral or religious convictions. She wasn't a lesbian. She liked guys. She even dated occasionally. It was just that , well, no one had asked her.
"Shit!"
The voice was closer and louder now. It was coming from the next pavilion, really just a tent with the canvas sides rolled up and fastened with rope on each of the four corners. Inside she could see colorful artwork displayed. The man inside was doing something to the sides of the tent.
She looked up as a burst of raindrops splashed against her cheek. While she had been walking, the sky had darkened and the wind began to blow, the temperature dropping as the rain began to pour. That was just her luck. All day long the weather had been gorgeous and she'd been collating brochures. The only time she'd even seen the outdoors was when her trek across the piles of band camp folders she was sorting by zip code took her in front of the window. God bless New England, she thought with a smile. If it weren't for that stack, I'd have never even seen blue skies today.
"Damn! Watch out!"
Something flew up and smacked her on the forehead. She winced at the unexpected pain and brought her fingers up to her eyebrow. She brought her fingers down and saw a small smear of red on them. She was bleeding. What on Earth had hit her?
"Oh, Fuck! You're bleeding."
Hands reached out and pulled her into the dimness of the pavilion.
" I'm so sorry. That line got away from me. Are you okay? Here," the voice said in a rush. "Hold this against the cut. I'll be right back." Her hand was grabbed and a bundle of soft fabric, a t-shirt?, was pressed into it.
She stood where she was, holding the makeshift bandage to her forehead, blinking, trying to adjust her eyes to the lower light inside the tent. The man was unrolling the final side of the tent as the rain began to blow against the canvas wall. Inside it was even darker as he fastened the walls of the tent to the poles.
The music was gone now, muted by the closed windows. The rain pelted the roof of the tent. She looked around at her surroundings and dropped the cloth as her eyes opened wide in astonishment . She turned slowly around in a circle, astounded at what she was seeing.
The canvas walls of the tent had been painted to resemble a tropical rain forest. Tall, leafy trees reached to the peak of the pavilion's pitched roof. Brightly colored birds flew in and out of the canopy. Glimpses of wild animals, monkeys, jaguars and snakes, could be seen peeking out of the dense foliage. In the distance a waterfall flowed over a mountain's edge and crashed into a winding river. The entire painting was so realistic, she was transported into fantasy of an Amazonian rain forest.
"Oh. Oh," the girl said as the man returned to her side. "Where did you get this?"
"I got bored over semester break and this was the result. I stayed up for a couple of nights straight painting it. You're the first person who's seen it. What do you think?"
"I think it's wonderful. I feel like I'm in the middle of the jungle somewhere, especially with the rain hitting the roof. I can almost hear the birds singing and that monkey over there howling." She smiled at him.
"Listen, I'm so sorry you got hurt. That rope snapped in the wind just as you walked by. Are you okay? Let me see." His fingers gently tilted her face to his so he could see her more clearly in the dim light.
"It's just a tiny little cut on my eyebrow. It doesn't hurt. I think I was more surprised than anything. You didn't need to give me your shirt. It didn't even bleed for more than a second or so. Oh," she said, stooping down to pick up the shirt where she'd dropped it when she'd first seen the illustrated walls of the tent. "Your shirt's a mess. I'm afraid I got blood on it and then dropped it, too."
"It's okay. It's the least I could do. I was rushing to get the sides to the tent secured because I've been working on a watercolor all day and haven't had a chance to finish it or spray it down. Any rain blowing in on it would have ruined it and I think it's gonna be one of my best ones yet. Wanna see?"
"All of these are yours?" She looked around at the paintings displayed on easels and tables inside the tent. The paintings ranged from tiny miniatures of life-sized jeweled beetles and butterflies, delicate flowers and birds to a few larger portraits of jungle animals that looked as if they had just stopped momentarily and would be climbing off the easels and stalking back into the greenery behind them. A battered green park bench held a painting of a jaguar, almost life-sized, poised to spring out of the canvas. A poster, advertising this year's Earth Day celebration, was taped up to one of the poles of the tent.
"I loved this poster. I walked by one every day and always stopped and spent more time than I should looking at it. I was almost late for class twice. I bought a couple of the raffle tickets from the student council, hoping I'd win one of them for my bedroom wall."
"Here," he said, pulling out a rolled tube of paper from a box in the corner. "I had a deal with the council. I gave them some posters to put up and raffle off and I got to keep some for my own personal use. You can have this one. No need to wait for the raffle." He handed her the poster.
"No, I couldn't," she protested. "Your work is too valuable to be giving it away."
"Take it," he said, unrolling it and showing her the tropical leaves and butterflies that seemed to float off the paper. "It's the least I can do for injuring you."
"If you're sure, I'd love to have it." She reached out , took the poster and began to nervously roll it up in her hands. "Well, I think the rain's letting up. I should probably get going..."
