Chapter Thirteen

Melody couldn't sleep at all that night. She tossed and turned in her bed, thinking about all she'd said and her mother's reaction to what she'd said. She didn't say she was a lesbian, all she'd said was that she'd kissed a girl. That was all that happened, she told herself, nothing more and nothing less.

However, it had taken nothing less than a cataclysm for Melody to open her mouth to her parents about it in the first place. Being publicly embarrassed near the end of the school year certainly didn't help matters. And then there was Darren Dreamer's standing offer of a job in his studio. She had met him once before, when he judged the district student art show, but now she could be working very closely with him and learning some of the tricks of the trade from him as well. She decided there was only one thing to do, and there was no way she was sitting at home all summer, not with this going on.

Getting up from her bed, she walked downstairs to use the telephone. "Operator?" she asked in a low, halting voice. Unfortunately the "operator" to which she spoke was a machine. "This is the Sim City Telephone Directory. Dial 1 for Pleasantview numbers, dial 2 for Strangetown numbers, dial 3 for Veronaville numbers, dial 4 for downtown numbers, dial 5 for Bluewater Village numbers, dial 6 for Riverblossom Hills numbers..."

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Melody pressed the number 1 for Pleasantview. "He lives in Pleasantview, right?" she said to herself. "The Pleasantview operator will be with you shortly." Melody waited impatiently for the person on the other end of the line. When someone finally spoke, she said, "I'd like the listing for Darren Dreamer, please."

"Dreamer? The artist? Yes, sure. His phone number is 555-4298."

Thanking the operator, Melody immediately began dialing. Darren's recorded voice transmitted over the airwaves. "Hello, you've reached the residence of Darren Dreamer. I'm not available right now to take your call, but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message, I'll be sure to get back with you as soon as I can. Bye."

"Uh, Mr. Dreamer, this is Melody Tinker, I live in Bluewater Village, you called a couple months ago about a job in your studio? I've decided that I'd like to take the job. Please call me back at 555-9830."

Throwing together an outfit on the fly, she tiptoed out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and out of the front door into a waiting cab. She wasn't entirely sure where she was going, but she knew she was not going to stay at 32 Eagle Lane.
Darren Dreamer was home alone. His wife, Cassandra, the Goth heiress, had just gone to her job as a field researcher, and his son Dirk was at summer orientation at Sim State University, where he'd be starting in the fall. Taking a jaunt to get his morning paper, he saw this wide-eyed, eager beaver of a girl in front of him. "Who are you?" he wondered. "And how long have you been here?"

"My name is Melody Tinker," she said, "and I've been here all night."

"Say no more, dear," he said, ushering her in. "Would you like breakfast? Pipin' hot pancakes."

Melody declined. "No, thanks."Looking around, Melody was somewhat surprised that Darren lived in such a modest house. "Did you paint all those pictures?"

"Most of them, yes. Some I bought on consignment."

The pair of them went upstairs to Darren's famous studio, which was on the other side of his bedroom. Here, Melody believed she was in her element. "I could live in a place like this," she mused, unsure if Darren heard her.

"Are you planning on going to college?" Darren asked her, trying to make conversation. "Academie Le Tour has an excellent art program. Sim State's is pretty good too."

"It's been kind of my secret dream to get into Le Tour," Melody told him. "I hear the admission requirements are strict."

"They are. But I believe you can get in. You're smart, talented, and determined. Those are three things you have going for you already. And not to mention, you're at a great school now." Darren flashed her a knowing smile. "So, where are we going to start? How about telling me the truth about what you painted for the art contest?"

"What do you mean?"

Darren laughed. "Were you really abducted by aliens?"

"Why, do you want to know?" Melody squirmed in her seat and took a deep breath. She hesitated before finally confessing, "Yes, I was."

Awesome, Darren thought to himself.

"I can't really describe the emotional impact of the event in words."

"No, but you sure described it in your painting. That's the number one requirement, in my opinion, of a good artist. They must have the ability to picture an event in their mind's eye and be able to detail it on a medium, be that a canvas or a block of marble or whatever the medium might be. An artist must allow their emotions to flow out onto their medium, whatever they're feeling at that particular moment."

Melody hung on every syllable Darren uttered. This was precisely the type of stimulation she sought when she took the job. She could already feel herself learning much about the craft, and it was only the first day. She asked constant questions about form and technique, and Darren tried his best to answer them.

"Have you ever tried stream-of-consciousness painting?" he asked her.

"Maybe once or twice, I guess."

He told her to paint what came to her mind. "You have to be more instinctive with your painting," he said. "You can deal with the technical aspects but you can't over-concentrate on them. And you can't paint just for the sake of painting. You have to paint with a purpose."

"Could I stay here tonight?" Melody asked right after work. "I don't think I can return home."

Darren looked at her quizzically. "Why?"

Melody cast her eyes down at a spot on the floor.

"Did you run away?" Darren inquired. "I don't understand."

"Yeah, I -- I -- I kinda did."

"Sweetheart," pleaded Darren, "you've got to return home. Your parents are probably worried sick about you."

Melody reluctantly returned home that evening and managed to peer inside her baby sister's crib. So innocent and helpless, she thought to herself. Was I ever this small and delicate?

"Mom, did anyone call?" she asked.
"Nope, the phone didn't even ring." Wanda tried to make conversation. "Melody Autumn Tinker, where were you last night?" Wanda's voice turned firm.

"What do you mean?"

"You know good and well what I mean. I looked for you this morning and you were gone."

"I don't have to tell you where I go all the time."

"As long as you're still a teenager you do!" Wanda took a deep breath. "When you're eighteen, then you can do whatever you please. But as long as you're under my roof you abide by my rules. No questions asked."

Without saying anything more, Melody went upstairs to her room. Disappointed once again that she couldn't get a word from her daughter in edgewise, Wanda continued to cook dinner. If Melody's brooding silence wasn't enough for Wanda to deal with, she had to deal with her revelation. The whole thing was a bit too much. I hope Harmony isn't this difficult, Wanda thought to herself, if I'm around long enough to see it.

Wanda was exceedingly glad that Lisa Ramirez called. "How are you doing, Wanda? You mentioned Melody was coming home --"

"Lis, she's worse than ever now." After a tearful pause, Wanda said, "Remember that big secret I told you she was keeping from me?"

"Yeah?"

"She told me -- she told me about some girl --."

"Wanda, you're joking. She's a lesbian?"

"Actually, yes, although she didn't exactly say it." Lisa dropped the receiver and decided that she was coming over. She figured Wanda needed emotional support right about now.

Lisa arrived at seven-thirty, without her husband. She caught Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, her face buried in her hands. Instinctively she reached for her friend and wouldn't let go.