Oasis

As I drove down the God-forsaken dirt road, the dust swirled like miniature tornados around my 17-year-old Corolla and clung to my body in the places that my sweat-drenched clothes didn’t.

This was not what I had in mind when I took the sought-after apprenticeship position with the reclusive, albeit highly revered artist, Shelby. Shelby had never taken an apprentice to anyone’s knowledge, and every art student dreamed it would be them. “Oh, Yay it’s me,” I said sarcastically in my head. Who would’ve taken it if they knew they would be lost in the middle of who knows where.

Fresh out of art school in New York, I had imagined working side by side with renowned artists in the posh galleries on the Upper East Side. I would be assisting in grand openings and galas, rubbing elbows with the elite and upper crust of the art world, making a name for myself, jetting all over the world for the sake of art!

But instead, here I was out in the middle of nowhere New York driving down some God-forsaken dirt road, choking on the dust. I prayed my poor old car, Bessie would make it since I had NO idea where Shelby’s “Oasis” studio was. Oasis… now that’s a joke. There couldn’t possibly be an oasis out here.

Jolted out of my thoughts…“NO, NO, NO!” I screamed, whacking my hands on the steering wheel. I noticed Bessie’s temperature gauge was starting to climb. “I’m gonna be screwed!” I’d been driving for 45 minutes down this hellish road without a house in sight and no cell service.

“Pleeeeeease, Bessie, don’t do this to me now!” I stopped in the middle of the road, after all, no one would be driving on this road to nowhere. I shut Bessie off to give her a chance to cool down.

I got out of the car and shielded my eyes from the glare of the mid-day sun. The only thing I saw were the brown fields, distant hills, and more dirt road. I sure wish Bessie’s air conditioning worked.

As I took the bandana from my head and wiped the dust and sweat from my face and neck, I saw a buzzard overhead gliding in figure eights on the currents. “Great, I’m gonna be buzzard buffet and no one will even know.” I thought to myself.

With my back against Bessie, I slid to the ground and sat with my legs sprawled in the gravel and my hands next to my sides in the dirt contemplating my next move. Maybe I should just turn around and head back to the city. To civilization. To air conditioning!

I must be having a heat stroke. I thought I saw someone in the distance on a horse riding towards me. “Naaaaah,” I said out loud.

“That’s just my brain slowly frying in the heat.” I put my head back and closed my eyes glad that Bessie offered a sliver of shade.

“Hey, are ya lost?” a woman’s voice queried.

I thought, “Just Freaking Fantastic! Now I’m hearing things!”

“Hey, ya lost?” I heard again. This time a mounted stranger was casting a shadow over my view.

“Uh…kinda?” I replied.

“Where ya heading?” the stranger asked.

“A place called, Oasis. Ever heard of it?”

The mounted stranger chuckled and said, “You’re in luck, it’s just over that rise in the road.” “It shouldn’t take you more than five minutes to get there.”

With that, the stranger turned her horse around and rode off. Five minutes, huh? I got back inside Bessie and turned the key in the ignition. “C’mon girl. You heard the lady, just five more minutes.”

At the top of the rise, I had to stop. There really was an oasis! I gazed down the road at a yard filled with green trees and grass. A beautiful old house with a huge weathered barn stood in the middle. There were several green fields that had a few cows, goats, alpacas, and horses grazing lazily. It was as if Shelby had brought a painting to life!

Bessie and I pulled in to the circular driveway and parked. I got out of the car and saw the stranger trotting into the yard. She waved and motioned me over to the old run-down barn where she was dismounting from her horse.

I walked over trying to brush the dust from my sundress. “Thanks for the direction.” “ I was about to give up and turn around.” “Do you work for Shelby?” I asked.

“No problem and you could say that.” Said the stranger with a smile.

Putting out her tan-gloved hand to shake mine, she introduced herself. “I am Esmerelda Sophia Juanita DeMatteo.”

Oh, My, God! It was Shelby herself!!!! I stumbled as I stepped forward to shake her hand, tripping over my own two feet and nearly falling ass over tea kettle. I stammered, “You’re Shelby!”

“Last time I looked in the mirror I was.” She smiled.

“I’m, I’m Genevieve! Your new apprentice! But everyone calls me G.” I gushed.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, G” Shelby replied. “Welcome to my Oasis. You can call me Shelby or Ez as my friends do.” “You must be tired and want to get cleaned up. I know that drive can be a bitch for those not familiar with it.”

I was filthy, tired, and hungry, but this was SHELBY in the flesh!!! How could I not want to be with her every moment learning from her years in the art world?!

“Let’s go into the house and you can get washed up and I will make us some cold lemonade.” “Let me help you with your things.” She offered.

I was star-struck. Here was Shelby, a world-renowned artist recluse helping ME with MY things. This was just too surreal!

As we walked through the country kitchen to the stairs leading to the second floor, I noticed the portraits that hung on the walls of the stairs. Shelby spotted me looking at them.

“This one is Gil. He’s dead.” “That’s Jess, he’s dead too.” “And that’s Aihita, Joaquin, Meban, and Fred. They’re all dead too” she explained.

“This was all a bit too weird and macabre.” I thought. “Should I dare ask about why they were all dead?” Maybe later.

“This is your room on the right. It has a couple dressers and a fairly large closet. The bed is pretty comfortable. I should know, I’ve napped there myself.” Shelby confessed then continued, “Oh, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

I’m going to be sleeping in a bed where Shelby slept! “Get a hold of yourself, G!!!” I yelled in my head. “You’re acting like a teenager with a crush!” I couldn’t help it! This was the opportunity of a lifetime with an artist that barely anyone had ever spoken with, let alone worked alongside!

After I showered, Shelby and I sat on the porch with our lemonade and talked. While we watched the animals in the fields and I scratched one of her dogs that lounged by my feet with my toes we talked about our lives. The conversation came easily and flowed on like the stream running through the field.

I learned of Shelby’s early life and the hardships she and her family had faced, poverty, war, and oppression. Looking at this amazing woman across from me with the shining silver hair, deep hazel eyes, and skinned colored chestnut by the sun; I couldn’t help think her attitude belied the hardship she had endured.

“Are..” I stopped myself. Asking about the portraits on the stairs may be a sore spot for her.

“Are what?” Shelby questioned with a smile.

“Please stop me if I’m being too forward. Are those portraits on the stairs your family?”

Shelby fell quiet. Her smile faded, her head hung down and her hazel eyes looked at the floorboards. “Some,” she said faintly.

I was kicking myself although my façade showed nothing but concern. “Great, just great. Way to go, insulting your mentor the first night you’re here.”

Shelby lifted her head and said quietly, “Come with me.”

We walked towards the old weathered barn by the light of the full moon. If this old barn could talk the tales it could tell. It had certainly seen much better days. The boards on the outside, well-weathered and cracking, just barely held a hint of the red paint that once covered it. The window frames with their faded and peeling paint added to the sense of its run-down condition.

Stepping through the partially opened doors I could smell the sweet fragrance of the freshly baled hay mixed with the earthy smells of the animals. Shelby flicked a switch and the lights came on giving a warm glow to the poor old barn. We headed towards the stairs to the hayloft. Why the hayloft I wondered.

Reaching the hayloft, I could barely see a thing. “Stay there,” Shelby said as she raised a hand to motion me to stay where I was.

I heard her footsteps and heard the click of a switch. The loft lit up with the same warm glow as below. That’s when I noticed the door at the far end of the loft.

I followed her to the door expecting to find more barn items. Instead, my mouth fell open and my eyes grew wide. I literally gasped as I entered the room.

From floor to high vaulted ceiling the walls were covered in photos of her family and paintings she had done. Between the lights in the room and the moon above shining through the skylight, the room seemed to wrap me in a blanket of color and warmth.

I had seen only a few of Shelby’s works in galleries and adored each one. But here, standing among her private work my head spun as I took in each brushstroke, every blended line, the detail in the smallest blade of grass. I had seen the studio earlier in the house as she showed me to my room. I figured that was where she worked.

“I think these can explain much better than I about my family.” The words a reverent whisper in this sacred space.

Shelby went and sat by her easel as I wandered from each magnificent piece of work to the next. I touched the canvases ever so gently feeling the passion with which they were created. It went on like this for an hour. Shelby and I in silence. She with her thoughts and me trying to take in all that was here to be given.

“Thank you”, I could barely speak. I sat down on the floor and looked up at this beautiful soul and asked, “Why did you show this to me?”

Shelby explained that this is where she came to connect with who she really was. Not a famous artist just Esmerelda Sophia Juanita DeMatteo, a girl being present with her family.

“Your portfolio shows a great deal of talent, G. But talent will only get you so far. You need to feel and connect with your art.” “I had to see if you had that in you.” “When you stepped into my true studio, I saw in your eyes that you will paint with passion.”

“What about the studio in the house?” I questioned.

“It’s alright,” she said. “This, this space here with the smells and the weathered walls reminds me of home, of my family. Where my dream first began.” “Always remember who you are and where you came from, Genevieve.”

As we walked back to the house arm in arm talking about life, I looked back over my shoulder at the weathered barn in the moonlight. I smiled and thought I should be so lucky to someday have a barn as beautiful as that.