Read Online Sketches by Eric Walters - Free Book Online

programs, classes, where peers and community artists come in and give instruction on specific techniques to help you become a better artist.”
    â€œIt sounds sort of like school,” I said.
    â€œNot like any school I ever went to, but we will help you to learn new things. Anyway, you’re free to just come and use our studios and materials to create and explore your artistic vision, if that’s what you want,” she said.
    â€œAnd what do you want from me?” I asked.
    â€œNothing. Although we do have expectations of our participants.”
    â€œWhat sort of expectations?” I asked suspiciously.
    â€œNothing too unusual. We ask that people who attend our program respect the place and the people who use it. We all know that lots of bad things happen on the street,” she continued. “We just want them to stay out there and not be brought in through our front door. While you’re in here, we insist that people treat you with respect and caring, and we expect you to act the same way. The street may be just outside our door, but it stays out there. There are absolutely no weapons or violence or drugs bought or sold or used while you’re here. Can you live up to that?”
    â€œSure.” That wouldn’t be hard.
    â€œGood. We like to think of this as a sanctuary. People can’t be safe to pursue their art if they’re not feeling safe to begin with.”
    That did sound good . . . maybe too good to be true.
    â€œWould you like to start today?” Nicki asked.
    I shook my head. “I’d like to . . . but . . . but I have to get going. I’m meeting some people, some friends.Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow or the next day.” That morning I hadn’t even been sure I was going to walk in the door. I figured I’d had enough for one day. Besides, I really was supposed to meet up with Brent and Ashley at another subway station to hustle more change.
    â€œAny day is fine, but if you can’t come for a while we understand. Sometimes it takes a lot of time and effort to get the things you need to survive on the street. Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
    â€œI have a place,” I said. I knew Ashley and Brent would take care of that.
    â€œBecause if you do need a place I can arrange something.”
    â€œI’ve got a place,” I repeated.
    â€œA shelter or a squat?” she asked.
    I didn’t answer. I didn’t know where we were staying, but even if I had known I didn’t think I’d tell her. It wasn’t any of her business, really.
    â€œThat’s okay,” Nicki said. “You don’t have to answer any questions if you don’t want to. We’re not cops or caseworkers. We’re just here to help you explore your art and help you—if you want our help. Does that sound fair?”
    I nodded.
    â€œGood.”
    Nicki got up and walked over to the counter. The bagels had popped up. She took them from the toaster,put the four halves on a paper plate, and began buttering them.
    â€œI’m actually not that hungry,” she said. “It’s a shame to let good food go to waste. How about if you eat them both?”
    She offered me the plate. I hesitated.
    â€œCome on, don’t be stubborn. If you’re not that hungry yourself you can take them with you—and a few more juices—for you or your friends. And there are some muffins. They’re a day old, but they’re still good . . . take some of those, as well.”
    My instant reaction was to say no, to not take them, but I was hungry. And even if I wasn’t, maybe Ashley or Brent would want them.
    â€œThanks,” I said. I took the plate.
    â€œI’ve got to get back out to the studio,” Nicki said. “I’ll see you tomorrow . . . or whenever you want to come back. Take care, and it was nice to meet you.”
    Part of me wanted to follow her out to the studio. Instead I took a big bite