Dorothy sat on the kitchen counter, eating bran cereal and kicking her heels against the cabinets below. It was early morning on a Saturday and she was usually the only one in the family up so early, but not today.
"Really, Dot, you are the craziest teenager I know," Garret, her big brother, said entering the kitchen. "You're up before the hens, on Saturday no less. You perch on the cabinetry instead of using perfectly good chairs. And you eat, and enjoy, old-people cereal." He shook his head as he examined the enigma of his younger sister in all her morning glory.
"Yeah, well what are you doing up so early?" Dorothy asked. Her brother, despite being in college, where supposedly responsible people go, was the least responsible person she knew. He lived at home because he didn't have a job, and had no interest in getting one for that matter. Their parents did everything for him, including his laundry, cleaning his room, and feeding him. Dorothy was eighteen and in her last year of high school.
Garret said that he didn't have time to worry about the hassles of day-to-day life, because he was an artist, and he had to create art when the mood struck him. Therefore he could not have even a part time job, which would just interfere with his real calling. And his parents went along with it because he had won several awards for his paintings and photographs. Some were even in a gallery, and selling albeit for minimal prices, which is how he got his spending money.
"I'm going to meet with an art dealer, who is interested in some of my work, and wants to talk about making a series," he said in answer to her question. He picked up a bagel and popped it into the toaster.
"Oh, cool." Dorothy went back to eating her cereal. She wasn't really interested in his art career. She knew he was good, because other people said he was, but she just wasn't the biggest art fan.
"Mmm, hmm," he said getting the cream cheese out of the fridge and setting it next to the toaster, "And guess what paintings she really likes," he leaned one hand on the counter and stared down at her.
"Which ones?" she asked. Dorothy was finished with her cereal, and set the bowl with the left over milk on the counter. "Smoky," she called to her cat.
"The ones I did of you." He tapped her nose with his finger as he said it.
"Me? Really?" she said surprised. Garret pulled his bagel out of the toaster and spread the cream cheese evenly onto both halves.
"Don't sound so proud of yourself," Garret said, rolling his eyes, "They are my paintings don't forget."
"Yes, but it is my alluring beauty that draws people to them. Thank god you have me, or your art career would be in the trash," she said jokingly.
"Yes, my little muse," he said smiling fondly at her. She hopped off the counter, and left him alone to eat breakfast with Smoky.
***
That evening, Garret, Dorothy, and both their parents sat eating dinner around the kitchen table. It was rare in their house to have family dinners, because their parents were either traveling or working late, or one or the other of the kids was out, but tonight they had all gathered to feast on spaghetti and meatballs.
"So you know how I met that art dealer today? Well, after talking, she said that she loved my paintings of Dottie so much; she wanted me to make it a series. She would even give me a cash advance for any supplies I needed."
"That's wonderful sweetie," their mother said beaming.
"Yeah, but the best part is, they're going to show in a gallery opening in Paris in four months."
"Ahh ha, I knew you could do it son," their father said clapping his hands. "Didn't I say he would be a famous artist some day?" he addressed their mother, then turned to Garret, "Even when you were a toddler, I knew, I just knew you would grow up to be an artist."
"Honey, four months? How many painting do you need?" their mother asked worriedly. Both parents had always been very supportive of Garret's career, but his mother had always been the more practical one.
"Well, at least six more," Garret told her, "But it shouldn't be a problem, I just have to work really hard, and I need Dottie's help as much as possible." Garret turned to Dorothy to get her agreement on the subject.
"Of course your sister will help you, this is a huge opportunity," their father said, and continued to eat his spaghetti.
"Yeah, I'll model for you," Dorothy agreed, although somewhat reluctantly. She didn't mind helping Garret, but modeling could be boring and tedious.
"Thanks," he said looking at her seriously. She nodded and continued to eat, barely catching a glimmer emotion in his eyes that she didn't have time to put a name to, but when she lifted her head again a second later, he was already back to eating, not even facing her. She dismissed it, and returned to her dinner.
***
Dorothy sat in the tree in the back yard, resting her head against her arm, which was resting against the trunk. The tree was a big oak, but it had a branch low enough for Garret to pick her up and set her down on, telling her to stay.
He now painted her furiously. Dorothy didn't understand why she even had to be there. His paintings were realistic enough where one could tell it was a painting of her, but they were not portraits by any means. He could probably do it from his mind, she secretly thought, or a picture of her. When she told him that though, he rejected it, saying he needed inspiration, a live model, not a two-dimensional photograph.
Dorothy wasn't sure how long she sat in the tree, but long enough for the position to be incredibly uncomfortable. Garret, somehow sensing her distress, finally put down the paintbrush and walked over to her, lifting her out of the tree.
"Come on, little bird," he said as he did it, then setting her to her feet. "That's enough for today. Why don't we go inside and watch a movie, order a pizza?" he asked.
Dorothy shook her head, "No, I have a date tonight." Garret looked at her fiercely.
"Oh yeah, with who?" Dorothy was used to him playing the protective big brother act.
"His name's Josh, he's really nice. We're just going to see a movie," she said smiling.
Garret looked at her suspiciously. "Okay, and you better be home by ten. With mom and dad out of town, I'm responsible for you."
"My curfew's not till midnight, come on, I'm not a little girl. I'll be leaving for college next year." Dorothy told him as they walked inside.
"Don't argue with me, be home by ten," Garret said in his most authoritative voice, which was very authoritative, despite the fact that he was usually so laid back.
