Converging Lines

Converging Lines

“Hi.”

“Oh. Hello.”

“I noticed you sitting here a few minutes ago and, well, you’re still here.”

“That’s true. You see, I’m watching that museum janitor to see how long it will be before he moves.”

“Ah. That janitor with the broom?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but that janitor is a very realistic statue.”

“No!”

“Yes. The first time I was here he, er, that is, it fooled me too.”

“That explains a lot.”

“That it fooled me?”

“No. It explains why he doesn’t move. Now I want to get a closer look. Wanna come with me?”

“I do.”

The young man and women walked across the parquet floor to the opposite side of the gallery, and sure enough. The janitor cleaning around the exhibits was itself an exhibit.

“I want to touch him.”

“Don’t, though. They’re picky about people touching the art.” The girl looked the young man in the eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Jacob. How about you?”

“Charity.”

“Interesting name. Do you have sisters named Faith and Hope?”

“I wish. I have one sister and she’s named Gertrude.”

“Really?

           “No. I don’t have any sisters. I’m an only child. I just like the name Gertrude.” Charity brushed her long hair back over her shoulder which was something she did very often, especially when she was feeling self-conscious. “So, Jacob, what brings you to the Milwaukee Art Museum?”

“Mostly I enjoy looking at paintings…”

“And janitor statues.”

“…and janitor statues. Also, I find it is an excellent place to meet really nice girls.”

“Has this happened often?”

“No. Just today. About five minutes ago.”

“Oh, that’s pretty smooth, Jacob. A very good line. Ask me why I’m here.”

“Why are you here, Charity?”

“I should say I’m here to meet someone just like you, but that’s just a bonus. I’m here to choose a painting about which I need to write a paper.”

“Cool. What’s the class?”

“Introduction to going to museums. Actually, it’s a creative writing course.”

“May I join you as you search for your victim, that is, subject?”

“I’d like that. I will value your input, forgetting for the time being about you being totally fooled by the sculpture.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Jacob turned and put his hand to his chin. “How about this big white painting with a blue dot in the middle?”

“I’m not sophisticated enough to understand that one. I mean, other than that it’s a dot on a big white canvas.”

“Well, Charity,” Jacob puffed up and did his best impression of a self-important college professor. “I think it represents man’s inhumanity to man and the degradation of societal norms. Or it’s a dot. One of those.”

“I’ve been thinking of writing my paper on an Impressionist painting.”

“I like them. Very calming. You could write about the artist’s suppressed rage, or something. There’s a nice Renoir landscape here.”

“You really know something about art, don’t you?”

“Only what I’ve learned here at the museum.”

“No art appreciation classes?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll need to enroll in school first, I guess.”

“Why aren’t you in school? You’re smart.”

“Maybe that’s why. I learn everyday for free. Between this museum and the library, not to mention a million-zillion places on-line, I can learn anything. Once I know for sure what I want to do in life I’ll go to school.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything, Charity. Unless you want to invite me to have lunch with you.”

“Um, well, yes. That sounds nice. Do they have a cafeteria here?”   

“They do. It’s horrible. But it’s a good place to get to know somebody, and I’d really like to get to know you.”

“Another great line. Tell me, Jacob, do you stay up nights thinking of lines to pick up girls?”

“Not so far, but for you I would definitely do that.”

“Let’s go have lunch.”

An hour later they were still sitting in the uncomfortable chairs in the lunchroom sharing stories of their lives, including their romantic lives.

“So, Charity, it sounds like you’ve had a rough road in the dating department.”

“There have been a few nice guys, but I’ve got a mental list of qualities I won’t accept in a man.”

“So, you’re saying that by the process of elimination you’ll eventually find Mr. Right.”

“That’s the plan.”

“What if I told you that my last name is Wright?”

“That would be amazing.”

“Well, that isn’t my name. My last name is Howard. I just wondered what you’d think. And, Charity, let me know what you think about this: you are so nice and so fun to talk to that I find myself not noticing how beautiful you are. I was kidding before when I said I came to the museum to pick up girls, but, well, here goes: would you go on a date with me? Or ten dates?”

Charity’s face flushed, and she again pushed her hair back and looked down at her hands. “I would like that. I really would.” She looked him in the eyes and smiled as she reached out to put her hand on his. “Another spontaneous pick-up line?”

“Here’s the thing: every ‘line’ you’ve heard today was just me having a conversation with someone I am so attracted to that I can’t be normal. You know, in painting and drawing they teach about the convergence of lines. If you picture a railroad track or a road going off into the distance, there is a point in the painting where those parallel lines the artist is depicting join together. They converge.”

“Okay. I get that. But what does that have to do with what you’ve been saying to me?”

“I guess I’m hoping that all those things I’ve said – those lines -- affect you in a good way and that they eventually converge in your heart.”

At that Charity’s head dropped to the table with a “bonk.” She sat up again and took both of Jacob’s hands. “If I asked you to marry me, would you?”