Truths of the Heart by G.L. Rockey Page A

reflexively, “Oh,
Seth, could you please see me before you leave.”
    He dropped his pencil.
    A few students hung around, chatted, and in a few minutes, Rachelle alone,
Seth picked up his pencil and went to her.
    In something like a sigh, she smiled, “Mr. Trudow.”
    “Dr. Zannes.”
    Only inches from her, he was overwhelmed by her fresh fragrance,
magnetism, warmth and the everything about her that was sucking him in. Amazing.
    She smiled, “You are a senior?”
    He smiled, We went over that , “Yes.”
    “Art major?”
    We went over that also, “Yes.”
    “Why creative writing?”
    We went over that too. “Yes.”
    “Yes?”
    “Yes.”
    “This should be an interesting class. See you Wednesday.”
    She put the computer printout and extra copies of the syllabus in her attaché.
    He said, “Did you know you have a Picasso nose?”
    She looked at him like she tasted sweetened cereal for the first time, “Blue,
Rose, or otherwise?”
    “You feel that?” he said.
    She raised an eyebrow.
    “Blue.”
    “I'm not sure whether to be flattered or….”
    “You feel that?”
    She closed her attaché, “Class dismissed.”
    “There it is again.”
    “Maybe it's this old building settling.”
    “May I walk you to your next class?”
    “Thank you but I'm finished for the day, going to my office.”
    “I'm going that way, Bessey Hall.”
    Walking the campus, amid hellos from students and recognition nods, Seth
listened to the rustling of her clothes, noted the sun reflecting off her hair.
He could walk to California with her, words were not needed, it was like being
home, finally forever. He wondered if she must feel it too. Approaching the
entrance to Bessey Hall, it was too soon over.
    “This is me,” she said.
    “I know.”
    “See you Wednesday.”
    “See you.” He watched her turn away and glide to the entrance of Bessey
Hall. Amazing, simply amazing.
    Entering Bessey Hall, for some reason, Zannes thought, someone special
has just been met . Then she recalled Carl, returning from a Sunday night
football game in Dallas. She had to pick him up at the airport.
    Entering her reception area, two students were waiting to see her, and
Kay handed her a message to call Dean Rait.

 
    CHAPTER TWO

 
 
    After “Anatomy Drawing 401”, the last class for the day, Seth took a
    Capital Transit bus,
got off at a familiar spot on West Grand Avenue, and walked a half mile to
Chapel Hill Cemetery.
    A habit acquired after his sister's death, he often visited final
resting places in an attempt to sort out the big mystery, at least try to find
a few good answers, some meanings. The question that kept popping up was the
one from which all else flowed: is this all an accident or was it begun by
creative design?
    So far Seth hadn't seen any ghosts, aliens, or cute little E.T.s. And,
other than the voice urging him to paint (he had a hunch the urge-voice was
Seth Trudow incognito), he hadn't heard anything on the accident/creative
design matter either.
    Searching for answers, meaning, he reasoned, had begun after Natalie's death.
He could never forget his father meandering around in that “what-if” garden of
why. Or maybe the search was innate, come slithering from under a rock into a
bright and shiny world. Or maybe it was simply a drunk who had too many snorts
of tequila. Time to think, listen to the universe, at least give 'hello' a
chance, then get out. But the finding is not so simple and here we are. Blah
blah blah. If people knew you hung around graveyards talking to dead people
they would probably lock you up … blah blah blah.
    He walked slowly over the thick grass, past headstones large and small,
reading dates he said, “No exceptions here, you get two dates, beginning and
end, that's it Seth-o. And so what and who cares? Zeus, Helga, or Rain Forest?
    He listened. Not news, Seth my boy, question of the centuries, out
of the muck, little blue blobs did we come or....
    “Blah blah blah my easel.”
    You know