Brogue 2007 - Belhaven College

t h e b r o g u e
“I can read. I read it. But that doesn’t explain what the heck it actually
is.”
“What it actually is?” Carissa arched one eyebrow at him. “This is an art
museum. That is an art piece.”
“You really think an orange rhombus classifies as art?”
“That’s not a rhombus, sir, that’s a square.” He laughed, tossing his head
back a bit with a wide open grin.
“That... is no square.”
“Yes, it is a square. It’s an optical illusion. The angle it’s tilted at makes
you think it’s really not a perfect square, but it is. That’s the most intriguing
thing about it. It seems like it’s not real, like it’s a fake, but it’s really perfect.”
“How do you know it’s a perfect square?”
“You look at it from enough angles, and you find out for yourself.”
“I think you may have to help me make sure.” Against her better judgment,
Carissa found herself helping him. Wednesdays were slow: there was
no one else around, she had nothing else to do, and he was charming. They
looked at it from all kinds of angles and ended up lying down on the cool
tiles, their heads at the wall, looking up at the square.
“I guess it really is a square,” he conceded. “By the way, I’m Kelly Morgan.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Carissa Stribling.” It was the first time she ever
shook hands with someone while lying on the floor.
“I’m glad to meet a girl who can really appreciate art. You know, there’s
a gallery opening up on Saturday and I’ve been invited to the party. With a
guest. Would you like to go? I’d really hate to go alone, and I have an extra
invitation that will just go to waste if I do...” Carissa hated to accept what
sounded suspiciously like a date from an almost complete stranger, but she
had heard about the gallery opening and she desperately wanted to go. He
wasn’t bad company, either, and Carissa was suddenly possessed with an
impulse to do something completely against character. Lying on the museum
floor by the tilted square, she accepted. The gallery continued into a café,
then a play, then a full-blown romance.
The relationship was decidedly odd. One worked in public relations for
Maytag, the other for an art museum. One watched action movies, the other
independent films. One ate Mexican food, the other Italian and Thai. One
loved hanging out in groups, the other preferred to be alone. Art was practically
the only thing they had in common. And they had kept it up for almost
eleven months. Almost.
A woman walked into the bathroom, waking Carissa from her remembrances.
She exited and decided to take a different route back to her seat.
The scrawny but nice waiter came up to her almost as soon as she sat
down.
“I’m so sorry about the spill. This is her first day. And I realize it didn’t
make your evening any better,” he stammered, forehead wrinkled in concern.
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