“You’ll have to spend at least two hours without any clothing,” said Professor Roberts on Sara’s voicemail, his voice brisk and friendly as if he were inviting her to a real estate seminar. As though spending time naked was so ordinary, it was an afterthought. Sara, on the other hand, had listened to the message seven times, yet so far that was the only sentence that had managed to sink in.
Growing increasingly mortified each time she heard those words, she finally grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote down the remaining details: Fill out paperwork in Personnel, followed by the first Life Drawing class at 10:00 in Dutchman’s Hall. Professor Roberts will be the instructor and there will be one ten-minute break. Bring a bathrobe.
Professor Roberts—Sara imagined an older, stooped man wearing a dusty jacket, pockets crammed with charcoal and pencils, sighing as he waved around a cigarette. Maybe professors had changed in the twenty years since she’d enrolled in art school. Or maybe not.
She’d certainly never imagined, when she herself had sat behind an easel and drawn countless undressed strangers, that she’d ever become one. Yet here she was, taking down notes about spending two hours naked in front of a room filled with college kids.
When Sara’s divorce was finalized, she had felt a sense of such profound relief that she’d overlooked a few key details about her finances…such as the disparity between her income and her bills. Money was tighter this year, and Sara was learning how to be creative with each dollar. She told herself this divorce was a good thing, forcing her to look for a better-paying job and stand on her own feet again. Divorcing Haven had been an excellent idea, but being poor was not. Reconciling those two concepts was never going to be easy, no matter how well she timed it.
While she polished her resume and crafted cover letters, her best friend had offered a suggestion. Ivy was a teacher at a local art school and she’d recently heard several colleagues complain about the lack of models for drawing classes.
“It used to be retired people and other students would jump at the chance to make some extra cash, but nobody wants to do it anymore. They’re all afraid it will end up on YouTube, I guess.” Ivy twirled a strand of curly red hair and pointed at Sara. “But I said I might know someone interested in posing for a few classes.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Sara snorted. “I’m thirty-nine years old, and I just legally dissolved my relationship with the last person to see me naked. I’m pretty sure that means I don’t want to stand in front of some kids half my age in my birthday suit. Plus, I’m a mother. Moms don’t pose nude.”
“Oh, please,” Ivy scoffed. “Nobody will ever find out. You could do day classes during the week and then pick up some weekend nights when Haven has the girls. They’re paying a hundred bucks a class.”
Sara had raised an eyebrow. “Right. They used to pay models twenty dollars back when I was in school.”
“I’m telling you, they literally can’t pay anybody to do it. You’d get hired right away!”
“Ivy, the last time a room full of people saw me naked, I was giving birth.”
“Come on,” Ivy urged. “You’re in fantastic shape; you’ve got the body of a thirty-year-old, and who cares anyway? They’re not having sex with you. It’s life drawing. It’s a bunch of people with charcoal, trying to get the shadow right on your elbow.”
Sara had shaken her head, but then the latest credit card statement had come in at the exact same time the mortgage was due. So she’d called Ivy and made the appointment to come in and interview. A friendly woman about ten years older than Sara had met with her, given her a brief once-over and smiled. “You’ll do fine.” She had winked. “It’s easy. Just take off your clothes and don’t move.”
That had sounded pretty easy. But now, listening to that message, Sara
Growing increasingly mortified each time she heard those words, she finally grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote down the remaining details: Fill out paperwork in Personnel, followed by the first Life Drawing class at 10:00 in Dutchman’s Hall. Professor Roberts will be the instructor and there will be one ten-minute break. Bring a bathrobe.
Professor Roberts—Sara imagined an older, stooped man wearing a dusty jacket, pockets crammed with charcoal and pencils, sighing as he waved around a cigarette. Maybe professors had changed in the twenty years since she’d enrolled in art school. Or maybe not.
She’d certainly never imagined, when she herself had sat behind an easel and drawn countless undressed strangers, that she’d ever become one. Yet here she was, taking down notes about spending two hours naked in front of a room filled with college kids.
When Sara’s divorce was finalized, she had felt a sense of such profound relief that she’d overlooked a few key details about her finances…such as the disparity between her income and her bills. Money was tighter this year, and Sara was learning how to be creative with each dollar. She told herself this divorce was a good thing, forcing her to look for a better-paying job and stand on her own feet again. Divorcing Haven had been an excellent idea, but being poor was not. Reconciling those two concepts was never going to be easy, no matter how well she timed it.
While she polished her resume and crafted cover letters, her best friend had offered a suggestion. Ivy was a teacher at a local art school and she’d recently heard several colleagues complain about the lack of models for drawing classes.
“It used to be retired people and other students would jump at the chance to make some extra cash, but nobody wants to do it anymore. They’re all afraid it will end up on YouTube, I guess.” Ivy twirled a strand of curly red hair and pointed at Sara. “But I said I might know someone interested in posing for a few classes.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Sara snorted. “I’m thirty-nine years old, and I just legally dissolved my relationship with the last person to see me naked. I’m pretty sure that means I don’t want to stand in front of some kids half my age in my birthday suit. Plus, I’m a mother. Moms don’t pose nude.”
“Oh, please,” Ivy scoffed. “Nobody will ever find out. You could do day classes during the week and then pick up some weekend nights when Haven has the girls. They’re paying a hundred bucks a class.”
Sara had raised an eyebrow. “Right. They used to pay models twenty dollars back when I was in school.”
“I’m telling you, they literally can’t pay anybody to do it. You’d get hired right away!”
“Ivy, the last time a room full of people saw me naked, I was giving birth.”
“Come on,” Ivy urged. “You’re in fantastic shape; you’ve got the body of a thirty-year-old, and who cares anyway? They’re not having sex with you. It’s life drawing. It’s a bunch of people with charcoal, trying to get the shadow right on your elbow.”
Sara had shaken her head, but then the latest credit card statement had come in at the exact same time the mortgage was due. So she’d called Ivy and made the appointment to come in and interview. A friendly woman about ten years older than Sara had met with her, given her a brief once-over and smiled. “You’ll do fine.” She had winked. “It’s easy. Just take off your clothes and don’t move.”
That had sounded pretty easy. But now, listening to that message, Sara
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