Nemesis No More

Bette had been his nemesis since third grade when she scratched his face.

They'd patched their differences up briefly in high school when she started running with a different crowd. Her body had blossomed and she was gorgeous, and he briefly forgot the scratch, then in college while he was working as a TA for an art professor, he tried to help her sister by helping Gina become comfortable as an unclad model. He'd told Gina to imagine feeling each stroke of the pen or brush as the artists painted her. The fact that later Gina had gone out with one of the artists and hadn't been heard from since was not his fault, but Bette wouldn't believe that.

"You were mean to her!" she said as she hit him with a final slap in the face.

The sting of the slap still hurt as Andrew remembered trying to say it wasn't his fault when she stormed out of his life. She'd been mean to him too, making him think they could be friends. He'd helped Gina, but no one could tell Bette that. Two other models that Andrew had helped told him that for some reason Bette had never approved of her sister's choices. That still didn't make the sting go away. He'd made peace with her only to have her burn him and become his nemesis again.

Now, ten years later she was his neighbor over the back fence. At first he didn't recognize her. She'd worn her hair short for as long as he'd known her, so the shoulder length dark auburn highlighted hair had confused him, till he heard her laugh. The tone of her giggly laugh brought a flood of memories, some good but mostly bad back into his mind. He didn't know if she recognized him, but now he recognized her, and he went to great lengths to keep his distance. Too many bad memories, he thought. I won't be burned again. He wondered if she had outgrown the childhood meanness toward him that had extended beyond high school.

Then came the day that she walked out of her house topless, a strappy g-string the only covering of the beautiful body she'd grown into. She spread out a towel and laid down stretching as she put her hands behind her head.

The glass door to his studio gave him full view of her yard, and had been a problem since he bought the house. All the lawsuit filed by the previous neighbors did was get a privacy fence put in that didn't hide much of their yard. Now it was more of a problem than it ever had been, as she'd set up where he could see everything. Even with the door closed he could see everything, but he also suspected she would be able to see inside. Her eyes appeared to be closed, but with the sunglasses he couldn't be sure.

Suddenly he was seeing a side of Bette that he'd never imagined could exist. She had always been the model of modesty, and the slap after Gina left had been more of an indication of that modesty than the bully she had been in elementary school. Now he wondered if she was setting him up, as she seemed to be looking right at him.

He turned toward the illustration he was working on. It wasn't worth it, he thought. A few moments later he turned back toward the patio window. Today he needed to sketch to warm up as his gaze returned to Bette. He smiled. Gina had been the quickest to pick up on feeling each pen stoke that he made. The sting of the slap on his face refreshed itself as he picked up his sketchpad. Might as well earn it, he thought in case she was setting him up.

He imagined he saw her flinch as he drew those long legs. Then she relaxed and almost seemed to enjoy herself as he sketched the light blue strappy bikini bottom. He forced himself to remain an artist as he finished the sketch, and closed the book. She would do more than slap him if she ever saw that sketch, but it was what he'd needed to jumpstart his day's work, and to bring some sense of closure to the relationship he thought they'd once had.

Then before he could turn away she sat up, pulled her glasses up and looked straight at him.

He froze. It was too late to pretend he hadn't noticed.

She motioned him toward her as she got to her feet, making no effort to cover herself. She moved forward, folded down the visiting panel of the fence and gave him a look that said 'come here or else.'

He hesitantly opened the patio door, and moved down the stairs to the grass. As he approached Bette, he noticed her well-manicured fingernails and remembered the day she scratched his face in third grade and threatened to scratch his eyes out next time he got near her. He took a deep breath. If she was the last thing he saw, there were worse ways to go, but he wouldn't make it easy. He lamented that he hadn't left a shovel out where he'd been working in the yard earlier that day.

He stepped up to the fence and forced himself not to flinch as she raised her hand to his cheek. If she threw the first punch, he would be justified in defending himself. He remembered her making that point very clear in the self-defense classes she taught. Right after the part about scratching their eyes out, he mused. As her hand touched his face he still couldn't read the icy expression on her face, but he couldn't sense any malice in her touch either.

"You just sketched me, didn't you." Her voice held the same icy expression that her face showed.

Andrew stepped back, bracing himself for the blow that never came. Growing up, his preferred method of defense had always been to run. He knew better that to say anything, but slowly nodded.

The shy smile that crept across her face scared him more than the icy stare and the feel of her hand on his face. "Next time, give me some warning and I'll wear something easier to draw," she said nodding toward her bikini bottoms.

Andrew shook his head. "The color is perfect, It just took a little longer to add that bit of color to the sketch."

Bette's eyebrows shot up and Andrew jumped back. "You really were sketching me!"

Andrew nodded again.

Her expression softened. "May I see it?"

Andrew took another step back as Bette's smile warmed.

"I promise, no violence," she said raising her hands. "We're adults now."

"We were adults in college," he said icily.

"We were still young. Gina came back with a family a couple years back..."

Andrew fought the urge to shake his head, then hesitantly stepped forward and opened the gate for her. He was digging himself in deeper than he wanted to go if she was setting him up. He struggled not to flinch again as she took his arm.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Andrew was silent as he led her toward the stairs, and into his studio. He nodded toward the chair at his desk as he reached for the sketchpad. She promptly grabbed a dark blue beret he'd left on a shelf above the desk, put it on, and posed as he turned to show her the sketch.

"You're taking after your sister," he said deadpan.

"Who do you think told me about that little trick you use to make your models comfortable." She took a deep breath. "She had more self confidence after working with you than any of the students I ever taught did..." Her voice trailed off.

"Everyone is different." He held out the book open to the sketch. "I'll need to add a couple details that I didn't notice from a distance."

"You remembered that I have blue eyes!"

"You made quite the impression on me, once you quit threatening to scratch my eyes out."

Bette blushed and looked down. "I'm so sorry about that."

Andrew shrugged then slowly took in Bette from head to toe. Observing every detail, not just as an artist, but as a potential new-found friend. She'd kept the muscle tone that had made her perfect for the self-defense courses she'd taught. The details he'd missed were the tiny chain around her ankle, with a small cross, the unobtrusive pearl earrings, and the seemingly permanent flirty expression on her face. He'd never noticed those details when they were together in high school, but now they told a story, one that told him that maybe she had changed. Maybe she was sincere this time. Maybe....

When Bette looked up he could see tears welling up in her eyes. "Can we try again?"

Andrew hesitated a moment longer. "How can I believe you?"

Bette shrugged, but there was a sense of pleading in her eyes.

He put his hand to his cheek. The sting of the slaps, and scratches would take time to heal, but If she was willing to make herself this vulnerable... He exhaled. "I think I would like that."

qed.