The Point

It was a cloudy, gray day out. Not even a rainy one, which Pryce would’ve preferred. It was just gloom.

But it did let him move around during the day without an umbrella. And the art museum was free for twelve and under. He wasn’t going to lower himself to acting, but he could put on some sunglasses, to hide his red eyes, and see where that took him.

It worked.

Pryce got his free admission, and went to the area for optical illusions. There were things like pictures that could be cups or faces, and the image of squares that supposedly had multiple circles in it. None of them were new illusions, but Pryce was always willing to try, see what images he could find.

Then he went to a hall that was mostly paintings of nature. He slowly perused pictures of autumn leaves, or rainy days. He stopped at a picture of the ocean, the blue and green waves done in impressive detail.

“A fan of realistic art, are you Pryce?”

Pryce turned around. It looked for all the world like a set of clothes was sitting at the nearest bench. Pink sweater, white gloves, blue jeans. If she hadn’t talked, you could mistake her for another art exhibit.

Pryce knew her. She was . . . her first name was. . .

Nova.

He never said he knew her well.

She taught at the same school as him, and her body was always invisible, only her clothes appearing. He assumed she couldn’t reappear.

“Not technically,” he answered her question with a shrug.

The painting wasn’t even realistic. It was detailed, and obvious effort had gone in, but photo realistic waves clearly weren’t the goal.

Pryce continued. “I’ll admit, I never got the deeper, Philosophical art though. I can’t tell what it’s trying to tell me. Even if the art comes with an information sign, I don’t usually see the connection.”

He could look at art, and then look at the sign, and the meaning would not be at all what he would’ve guessed.

“I’m not sure that’s the right way to go about it,” Nova said slowly. From her tone, she was still thinking it through.

“Oh?”

Pryce took a seat beside her.

“From what I know about the fine arts, you can be very skilled, and try very hard, but the audience can still get a completely different message than what you were going for. Messaging is harder than most people realize. And people are complicated, I guess.” She shrugged.

It sounded like people were stupid on occasion, but he let her keep going.

“And even if the creator tells you what they were thinking, there’s a chance they were lying, or changed their mind.”

Nova’s gloves tapped the bench or squeezed her knee as she spoke.

Pryce leaned back, as much as he could on a bench with no spine. “I suppose you’re going to tell me the point now?” He might have sounded a little mocking with that question, skeptical, but he genuinely wanted to know her answer.

“I think it should speak to you. I know that sounds vague,” she quickly clarified. “I just think that is the point. It should mean something to you, regardless of what that meaning is.”

Nova stood up. “Come on. Let’s try.”

She started away. It had been so abrupt, Pryce could only stare after her for a moment. He didn’t have to follow, but what else did he have going on?

They went to a section where the art was a little less clear. There was a picture of what looked like a regular person sitting in a chair, until you looked up and saw their head was a skull.

There was also the painting of lightning moving almost horizontally across a black sky, to strike a black tower. It seemed like the tower was on a cliffside, over the ocean, but the painting was in shades of black and dark blue, so it was hard to tell.

He did stare at that one for a while, feeling an emotion that was hard to pinpoint.

Then again, maybe he just liked the ocean.

Pryce smiled at his own shallow reading. He turned to share some of his thoughts with Nova, only to see her staring at a picture as well. It was of a person, with a bird going past, blocking their head.

Pryce slid up behind her, and she didn’t react, didn’t seem to notice her surroundings at all.

“Well, your favorite piece isn’t subtle,” Pryce pointed out.

Nova jumped, turning back to him. “Hey now, it’s not my favorite. And don’t misread the situation. Being invisible is better than the old situation.”

“There was an old situation?”

“Oh yes.”

Nova began to explain, as they moved to the sculpture room. There were some sculptures of people, or at least parts of people. But there was also what might have been a bird, and stacked rectangles, like giant metal Jenga. The sculptures were inside, but the space was large and open, and it echoed a bit.

Nova didn’t seem to mind the way it made her voice carry as she told him her backstory.

“My parents were cursed so that their first born was too horrifying to look at.” Nova waved a gloved hand. “I volunteered for a government experiment in curse breaking. Technically, they did solve the problem.”

Ah.

They went to the museum’s café. Pryce didn’t need to eat regular food, and it rarely tasted like much, but he bought something small for the sake of it.

“What about you?” Nova asked. “Surely you had a situation before this?”

Pryce raised an eyebrow. “Not really. I was a regular person until I was twelve. Then I got bit by a vampire, and stopped physically aging. My parents treated it like I had died, which is kind of awkward when you’re standing right there.” He paused. He’d been gesturing as he talked, but he lowered his hands now. He smiled, but he knew it was strained. “I kind of get it now though.”

After lunch, they went to the outdoor area, with works of art that simply wouldn’t work indoors. There were a few patches of light breaking through the clouds now, but it was still dull enough Pryce could stand outside without burning.

There was the rose garden, and the wind chimes. Pryce knelt down and stared at a small area dedicated to plants with purple leaves. It was a nice piece, but it either only worked part of the year, or there was some magic to keep the plants alive through all four seasons. That was always a possibility.

“What about the creators?” Pryce asked Nova.

“Huh?”

Well, they had switched topics a while back.

“You said everyone sees something different in art. Why try to make a point with it at all?”

Nova shrugged. “It means something to the creators too. It means enough to them they made something and shared it with the world. Other people getting something different from it doesn’t have to ruin things for the creator. That’s what my writer friend says, anyway.” She whispered the next part. “Though. I think she was trying to convince herself.”

Pryce hummed. “What subject do you teach again?”

“Math.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be in the fine arts?”

“Oh, God no. If you teach it as a class, art does have to have meaning beyond your nebulous feelings, and artist background and intention matters. You have to make sure the students actually have some interpretation abilities.” She tapped her head. At least Pryce assumed she did, based on the movement of her gloves. He couldn't see her head, but he could make a reasonable guess where it was. “I play far too fast and loose with the rules.”

Well fair enough.

They finished in the outdoor area, and left the museum together. They hadn’t seen everything, and it hadn’t been the whole day, but Pryce wasn’t complaining. They’d spent longer in there than he would’ve alone.

“What’s your favorite art then?” Nova asked as they went down the street, getting farther from the museum.

Pryce took a deep breath. “I have two friends who I’ve known basically my whole life. One of them is an artist. She makes drawings of what I’d look like if I aged normally every five years. So, I have to give her some recognition.”

“Oh.” Nova stopped walking for a second. “That’s very sweet, and something to consider.”

She wanted a picture too?

When she spoke again, he could hear the smile in her voice. “But that’s not really what I meant.”

“Yes, yes.” Pryce waved a hand. “My favorite piece today was probably ‘Lightning Strikes Midnight Tower.’ And you?”

Nova put a gloved hand up to where he guessed her chin was, thinking. “Probably the figure made of rubber ducks.”

Pryce blinked once. And a second time. “I don’t remember that.”

“I saw it before I bumped into you,” Nova explained. “You must’ve missed it.”

At that point, it was time to part ways. They’d reached the parking lot Nova had pulled into, while Pryce didn’t have a car. But they shook hands, and promised to keep in touch, and Pryce hoped they did.

He didn’t have many people he’d consider himself close with. Three? Maybe four, if you counted his still living parent. There were multiple reasons for that, but the incongruous appearance probably wasn’t helping him. And call him crazy, but he was pretty sure a woman who went from being too horrifying to look at to being impossible to look at might have similar problems.

So it would be nice, having a new friend.