Truths of the Heart by G.L. Rockey

paper or a computer screen,
whatever ... the creative process.”
    She recalled his written request for permission. She tilted her head, waiting.
    He continued, “I also wonder about beauty among the beasts and I want
to explore yo—that.”
    He noticed silence from the other students, some mouths open.
    Rachelle waited. “Go on.”
    “When I see a striking sunset I hear a voice....”
    Snicker. Chuckle. Snort.
    Rachelle, “Go on.”
    Seth: “…saying 'try this one ... and I paint the sunset ... but when finished,
you have only a painting. Even less so when you try to describe a sunset with
words. See what I mean?”
    Rachelle said, “I think so.”
    Seth smiled, “And then there is a beautiful woman.”
    Snickers.
    Rachelle, intrigued, “Go on.”
    “Kind of like, what did the Creative Force think when he sat down to create
all this.”
    Doris Brady said, “How do you know, if there is such a thing, the
Creative Force is a he?”
    “Whatever.”
    Rachelle said, “And?”
    “Well, look around,” he looked at Doris, “She must have gotten
bored, because here we are competing with the stars.”
    Rachelle looked into his eyes and said, “And Pizza Pie.”
    She remembers, he
thought.
    Student: “What about music?”
    Seth said, “I guess you could sing a cappella.”
    Laughter then silence then front row Susan spoke, “Can my project be a term
paper?”
    Laughter.
    Rachelle, moving to the front of the room, said, “Did I miss something
or did Seth upset the creator’s cart?”
    Laughter.
    Susan, “Well, could it be?”
    “On what?”
    “My trip to Phoenix.”
    “Wet or dry heat?”
    “Either way.”
    “No.”
    “But....”
    “Try.”
    Seth noticed front-row Don limply raise his hand.
    “Yes?”
    “What if I don't have an idea, I mean for a writing project?”
    “Drop the course, go into law.”
    Mary Dilts said to Rachelle, “Who is your favorite writer?”
    “Me.”
    Laughter.
    Rachelle: “Not really, I have many favorites, see our reading list.”
    Mary: “What about descriptive sex.”
    “I prefer wine to X's and O's.”
    Laughter, some chuckles.
    Seth, Blah blah blah. I think I love you.
    After ten minutes of questions and comments, Rachelle said, “Okay, enough
for today. Please look over the syllabus, if you feel the course may be too
demanding, not what you thought, you have a week to drop out, change majors,
become dentists, lawyers, President.”
    She paused and Seth saw that she was looking at him.
    What is this feeling like water being sucked down a drain, a leaf in a stream,
flowing with swift moving water toward the spillway of a dam .
    Rachelle: “Any questions from our art major?”
    Is she flirting with me or what? Damn! I'm going over the edge. “I was wondering if you ever did any
modeling?”
    Laughter, a howl, a whistle.
    “Anything else?”
    Didn't say no , Seth
said to himself as he made a note for future reference.
    Fat chance, reference for what? He thought.
    “Now, I won't hold you today. For next class please be ready to discuss
      Thomas Wolfe's short story, The
Far and the Near . Also, begin reading John Gardner's On Moral Fiction .
Thank you for your attention and if there are no further questions, see you
Wednesday.”
    She looked at a raised hand. “Yes.”
    “Are you going to have a final exam?”
    “Didn't we go over that?” She paused, “any other questions?”
    “When's the writing project due?”
    “Read the syllabus, April 1. Please read your syllabus. All this information
is in it.” She looked at Seth who was sketching her. “See me to set up
appointments for individual conferences on your projects. Of course I'm
available any time if you encounter a problem.”
    Seth, sketching the fleshy middle of her nose, looked up. Anytime?
    She looked over the class again. “Any other questions?” She paused.
    “Good day then and,” she paused and looked straight at Seth, “write
write write.”
    As the students started to leave, she said almost