Checkmate - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

If truth needed to be told, Andrea knew Hana was going to need her that night. So the moment she got Hana's text, she didn't think twice to run from her apartment to the student's dormitory building.
Hana was shocked to see her by her door half an hour later in her tracksuit. "Professor! I didn't know you would come all the way here!"
"I couldn't sleep... like you. So I went here." She said, awkwardly. "Do you want to tell me what happened during the Photoshoot?"
"Would you like some lunch, Professor? We have some leftover pizza."
"No thanks, Hana. I just ate." The French woman patted her stomach for extra emphasis
"But—" Hana started. "Alright then, but if you would like anything, just let me know."
"Tea sounds great." She made her way across the living room to have a seat next to where Hana was.
"Okay!" Hana flashed a smile that somehow was both goofy and sad at the same time to get them some tea.
While the tea was brewing, Hana took some leftover pizza they had for dinner for herself, finding that she was once again hungry, and walked over to the microwave to reheat them. An insistent and dull hum of the machine began in the background, breaking the silence that had overtaken the room.
As soon as the tea was finished, Hana placed the cups and the kettle on the table and she attacked the existence of the heated pizza.
Smiling, and with a slight twinkle in her eye, Professor Andrea nodded approvingly at seeing Hana stuff her face with it. Picking up her cup, she blew off some steam, before taking a sip. "So..." she continued hesitantly.
"She kissed me," Hana said as a matter of fact and continued devouring a second pizza piece.
Professor Andrea was forced to swallow the sweet plum flavored tea in shock. "What?"
"Umm," Hana thought that she needed to clarify. "My muse kissed me. On my cheek and she said that kissing is a form of art and it's open to many interpretations."
Professor Andrea waited for the reveal before she could have a coughing fit from swallowing the tea in the wrong way. "Did she tell you what it meant to her?"
"Well," Hana breathed heavily. "She didn't get the chance to because her best friend took her away. And all night, I've been calling and texting her and she's not responding! I don't know what to do!"
The French woman pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. A gesture she always does when she was nervous and contemplating her words. Hana was in distress and she can tell why. "Why not ask her tomorrow at school? I must admit that Miss Lancaster is a busy person. It's not good to overthink and dwell on elaborate scenarios. And since you can't sleep, let me help you edit those photos you took."
Hana's face lightened up, "Really? I was going to ask you that, professor!" She continued gushing about. "Thank you so much!"
Professor Andrea smiled back at her, knowing to herself that she will want Hana to succeed where she failed. "No problem at all."
Hana was now a permanent figure in Althea's mind—in her consciousness and her sub-consciousness. That night when she got home, she headed straight to bed. She woke up early, her inner voice itching for her to go to the painting room, and began to work.
Althea didn't know what possessed her. She just went about and kissed Hana in front of her friends. It was a bold declaration. Althea stared at the mirror located just at her left side at the far wall, trying to reason out the out-of-character spontaneity she did. She appeared, most of the time, as the cerebral type of person, who always analyzed the world on account of the facts and proofs that she received, so even contemplating and giving some second thoughts to this matter seemed utterly unimaginable. Yet Althea, in her stubbornness and indulgence, could at least consider the idea and at one point even begin to believe in it, as implausible as it appeared at a first glance.
Her fingers, having a mind of their own she directed the brush to dance on paper and create beautiful strokes; in half an hour, she finished outlining, and in another half later, she finished coloring the oil on canvas.
She marveled at the sight of it. Professor Tosca would be proud of her. For years, she hadn't been able to paint women portraits from memory or even live, if she can draw Hana from memory now, how better would it be if Hana's going to model for her. All until tonight, she stared back at Hana's red eyes staring at her.
It felt like the real thing and Althea was proud of that. Hana's eyes were so beautiful, so expressive—the color of passion with wispy lashes. Eyes were hard to draw. Not the shape or the color, but the depth—the person behind them. What gave them life and Althea successfully painted it. With the sparkle in Hana's eyes, her wide smile, soft gentle round face, and the red lipstick stain Althea left on her cheek.
Althea blushed at what she had done. For in art, the artist's inner desires are shown, and what would people think when they see art by a female artist was of a woman with lipstick stain?
Probably that the model and painter are the best of friends.
Althea frowned at that. Art is subjectivity, so perhaps she can worm a way out of that. She needed to be bolder.
Gathering her brushes to clean later, she can't help but stare back at her painting, Hana was mesmerizing.
Something was tainting about her convictions and how she confided them that made Althea certain that they were, in fact, credible and worth paying attention to. If her friends—Madeline and Heather—could take a look at her thoughts, they would think she had gone bonkers. But she hadn't, at least that was what she thought of herself.
Indeed, she had changed quite a bit since meeting Hana, but she didn't attribute her sudden review of behavior to a change of heart and feelings towards her, but rather to her novel manner of looking at the world that had made her realize that there was more to life than what he had previously believed.
Hana was free-spirited and had a rather open mind that motivated Althea to seek the same virtues in her. She could try and at least bestow Hana's convictions a degree of credibility and, following profound research, she would be able to help her find Shiny Andromeda and if possible, even address the conspiracy theories whether or not it had a glimpse of truth in them.
A sudden movement surprised her.
"Professor?"
"Morning, Althea." The Italian woman took long strides as she entered the painting room. "I thought it'd be better to come by and see how you are. I couldn't wait for your next break, you see. Don't worry, I won't take long, I'll drive you to school if you want—" she halted when she saw the canvas filled with a woman's portrait.
Althea dropped her brushes comically. She wasn't ready to admit to her mentor about her crush.
"Did your session with your muse occurred last night?" she asked.
"Oh no! N-not yet, Professor," Althea turned into a fumbling mess. "I drew them from memory."
"I see," she replied cheekily. "And just this morning, that's why the paint hasn't dried yet. Can I have a photo of what she looked like?"
Althea blanched. She doesn't have a photo of Hana lying around. So she went online to the University's webpage and searched for Hana's profile and showed it to her mentor.
"Interesting," Professor Tosca hummed as she went to closely inspect the painting and the photo on Althea's phone.
It wasn't helping Althea's anxiety level to see Professor Tosca examine her artwork for more than 15 minutes. It usually took the Italian woman around five.
She sprung to her feet, giving Althea a heart attack; she hefted herself onto the nearby desk and hugged one leg. "Come on," she said. "Who are you kidding?"
Althea gulped a lemon. "Apparently not you," she added quickly, "I don't know what you mean."
"This girl," Professor Tosca pointed to her drawing.
"Yes?"
A smile streaked across her face. Her mentor jumped down; giving Althea more heart palpitations, and then rifled through a portfolio she always brought with her, found what she was looking for, and handed them to Althea. "Notice anything?"
Althea skimmed the paintings and photos s of similar Asian women portraits drawn by Europeans for comparison. "Not really."
She frowned a little. "You can't see the difference?" Professor Tosca threw back her head and laughed. "Have the seeds of love finally sprouted in your barren heart?"
Althea waited for her to elaborate with great fortitude that faces adversity.
"Those painters have sexual relations with those women."
"PROFESSOR!" Althea's world shook, if she were drinking tea, the tea would fall from her delicate fingers.
"Yet in my opinion, you drew that Asian girl with more individuality and personality than those women they slept with. They all focused on their breasts and curves, you focused on her eyes."
Althea lost the ability to look at her mentor and refrain from blushing. "Are you just indicating that some men couldn't be trusted to paint women?"
"No, I'm just saying that you're a genius, Althea. Like your mother. You're able to draw with great splendidly over your first time."
Usually, that passage swelled up Althea's pride and narcissism but today that felt off. As if all her accomplishments were because she was a shadow of a bright flame of her mother.
"Thank you, Professor. I'll let you meet my muse once she's free."
There was a pause before she replied. "I'm counting on that."
Hurriedly, Althea went off to the front gate when Tom carefully approached her showed a cream-colored letter with a wax seal addressed to her from Professor Oakley.
Althea raised an eyebrow, as she took the letter to read it clearly to make sure she hadn't misread it. "Arrived just this morning?"
Tom nodded, handing her the car keys. "Yes, Lady Althea, very recently. Your car is up in front and please do take care."
"Thank you, Tom," Althea said, saving to read the envelope for later once she got to school. She didn't notice that her phone was on the silent mode the whole time.