Each chapter has a couple parts based on my experiences or my brother's experiences. So as not to spoil anything, I've summarized the real events at the end. Thanks to my brother for helping me with the male perspective.
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Being 20, Tatiana could not handle her parent's dinner party, a full night of gossip and wine. Now if she could have some of the wine and circumvent all of the thoughtless chatting, she might not have gone for a walk outside.
Being 40, Arto could not handle the sight of his newly returned daughter silently excusing herself from dinner, a recurring scene during social gatherings in the past. In short, he had forgotten what it felt like to be 20, and in some ways, wished he could be so carefree.
Being 18, Ladislav may have helped in raising Arto's expectations for his children, sitting as still as one could sit, listening intentively, answering questions only when called upon, even more, with ample wit. Ladislav enjoyed roaming the grounds of their families estate as much as Tatiana, but he also knew that if he sat and observed, he could latch onto something that might improve his standing with his parents.
Being 38, Maria was entirely concerned with her appearance, obsessed with the fine lines that had only recently developed on her face. She looked at Tatiana walking out of the dining room with her gentle curves and smooth skin, comparing it to her own. She looked at her husband Arto who looked better with each passing year. She looked at Ladislav, so vibrant and sharp.
Their guests, Mr. and Mrs. Bronte, sat laughing and conversating as if they had nothing to worry about, but to be honest, no one could pinpoint exactly what they were thinking at any given moment. When Arto excused himself to clean some dishes in the kitchen, Mrs. Bronte quickly and quietly turned to Maria, "I just read an article that said mixing coconut oil and semen is good for your skin."
Glaring at Mrs. Bronte, Maria suspected she might have been insulting the condition of her skin, but she realized that Mrs. Bronte had double the amount of lines in her face. Sitting up straighter, Maria laughed and whispered, "There's no way. It sounds like something ridiculous thought up by a teenage boy."
"It's the absolute truth, they even conducted experiments, it's completely on the up and up... semen can rejuvenate your skin!"
Maria looked sideways at Ladislav and then whispered back to Mrs. Bronte, "Not so loud, Ladislav hears everything."
Mrs. Bronte looked over at Ladislav as he added, "I haven't read the article but I could see it being true. Although I am a teenage boy so my opinion is probably moot."
Maria blushed and looked at the table, trying to find something to distract her from the conversation. She picked up her plate and then continued to pick up the remaining plates from the table, "Well, I better help Arto wash these dishes."
Once she had left, the Brontes' and Ladislav grinned at Maria's prudish reaction, trying not to audibly laugh. The Brontes' slowly made their way into the kitchen, thanking Arto and Maria for the meal before leaving. By the time Ladislav went to wash his dish, only Maria remained, carelessly scrubbing each dish. He stood next to the sink, waiting his turn, "You know, I've heard it all before."
Maria shook her head, "It's just not appropriate conversation for dinner. I like the Brontes but they're kind of wild. You'd think with their upbringing, they'd understand manners and decency."
Nudging his plate under the water Ladislav laughed, "Mom, just because you're from old money doesn't mean that you have to carry on their ridiculous rules. We've never been like that before," he paused, "speaking of old ways, whatever happened to the maids and kitchen staff?"
Setting a pot into the sink Maria slumped her shoulders, "We have to cut back on some things," she gave a forced smirk, "Old money doesn't mean as much anymore," staring at the pot, as if she would pick it up again, Maria instead washed her hands and walked upstairs to her room.
Arto combed their tremendous grounds, looking for Tatiana. When circling the horse stables, he spotted her sitting on the cusp of a well, her dark hair curling in the wind, sketching a lone stand of three trees.
Sitting next to her he didn't say anything at first, but then softly began, "First day back in town and you have to sit through one of our pompous, well-mannered dinner parties. Must be a shock compared to long nights with pizza and beer."
While still sketching, Tatiana laughed, "I don't know about your college days, but currently, everyone is obsessed with health food. It's more like some vegetarian food from a restaurant serving exotic cuisine. As for the beer, it's not Coors or Budweiser it's the most unknown craft beer, filled with the most hops possible. It's not too bad, but it can get as stuffy as these dinner parties when someone takes it all too seriously."
Looking down into the darkness of the well, Arto nodded while itching his black scruff, "Poor college kids wanting to be refined like us boring rich types. I guess I'm not too surprised; they think this is the dream," he put his arm around her, "So how was the scholastic part of it all? You know, the reason you were there," he chuckled to himself.
"It wasn't quite what I expected. There aren't many geniuses running around in this world. But I guess I was taking a lot of mundane classes. I did take a figure drawing class, which was great; but of course, that's my thing."
Arto looked up at her seriously, "Just don't let them tell you what to draw," and then softened into a laugh.
Tatiana put her sketchbook down and stretched out, "I didn't have any problems with the curriculum; we got to draw live models, which is my favorite. But that was the first semester. I got a taste of the good life and then I was thrust back into things like math and science. I haven't drawn a figure in months!"
Arto cocked his head, "You were too afraid to ask people to pose? I was that way too."
She laughed, "I didn't even know you made art! But yeah, it's totally uncomfortable asking someone to pose. I've almost given up on it."
Now Arto stood up, struck a pose and smirked, "I used to pose for life drawing classes; I'm something of a professional," he relaxed, "Don't be afraid to ask anyone in the family to pose for you. We all support your dream of being the next Van Gogh," he winced, "Well, maybe not Van Gogh, things didn't turn out too well for him, but uh, the next Frida Kahlo. Or at least I think she wasn't as disturbed as old Vincent," Arto took a breath, "But really, if you ever want to sketch any of us, just say the word. Maybe not your mother at the moment, she's feeling a bit self-conscious, but me or Ladislav, we're here to help."
Tatiana looked at the skyline, seeing how blank it had become as a silhouette, "How about tonight? I have all this pent up creative energy that I need to expel."
Beginning to walk back to the mansion, Arrto smiled, "Well, we better get back then, before we get lost out here in the dark. Have you thought of a pose?"
"My brain is sore from all of the poses I have in mind but there's a series of three I really want to do. It's something really meaningful."
As they kept walking, Arto kept asking, "So can you describe the series to me?"
"Well, it's kind of complicated to explain in words. A lot of the meaning will come through in the way I paint it. I guess I can say, you will be pushing against a wall."
Arto playfully kicked something in the dark, "Like usual."
"Oh, and I want it to be really raw, as if you can see everything the character is feeling, completely exposed," she nervously spilled out the rest, "It would be nice for the pose to be nude to really express the vulnerability of the character but if you think it's too weird, you can wear underwear. It's only a little patch of hair and skin beneath it anyway."
After only making a "hmm" noise and walking a bit further Arto finally spoke, "Is it really important for the pose to be nude? I mean, if you wanted to wait, I could probably find someone else if it'd be uncomfortable."
Sighing, Tatiana slowed down her usual swift gait, "I don't know, if I really wanted my vision to be complete, it would be nude, and I want it to be someone middle aged," she looked at her father, "Do you even have any friends you could ask?"
He thought for a moment, "Probably not. I have a lot of business associates, but I guess that would be even more awkward," another pause, "You know what, it doesn't matter. I grew up pretty open minded, I think I can open it up again. A body is a body," he looked at Tatiana with a glint of youthfulness filling his eyes, "I'm in; anything for my talented daughter. But we really better get back faster, it's getting cold out here and I don't want to look all shriveled."
Tatiana punched her dad in the arm, "It doesn't need to be impressive!"
Ladislav sat at the top of the main staircase, listening to the house. It didn't creak much for being so old; he was more listening for his family, to hear what they were doing and what they were saying.
On cue he heard his dad and sister walk through the back door. They were a distance away but he could hear Tatiana rambling on about some abstract artistic ideas. His father, Arto asked her to elaborate on how the pose would look. She began to say something he couldn't hear and then heard her say the word nude before their conversation was completely inaudible. Ladislav figured they had gone up the side stairs and were on their way to one of the rooms.
His heartbeat quickened. He thought, "Is Tatiana going to be nude, with dad holding the camera, taking photos she can paint from later? Or is dad posing for Tatiana?"
He had never felt sexually excited by his sister, he could appreciate her beauty, but now he was curious to see her in the nude. If it was his dad posing, that would just be strange. He always found his family to be conservative when it came to sexuality.
Then he thought, "If they're posing in the living room, I can just walk in and act like I didn't know they were posing. But if not, I could climb the terrace and peek in from there."
Deciding to try the simple route first, he crept along the corridor to the upstairs living room. The lights were off.
He rushed to his room, opened the window and stepped out onto the ledge. The sheer danger of being on such a thin ledge, coupled with the excitement of seeing his sister and dad making nude art together had him shaking. He moved lightly along the edge until he reached his sisters room. The lights were on but the room was empty. Next he made it to his parents' room, but only his mother was there, brushing her teeth in the adjoined bathroom, staring at herself hard in her silky gown. He knew they wouldn't be in there, his mother was the main source of puritanical beliefs in their family.
