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Robert and I wrote to each other for a long tis I&039;ve ever experienced It&039;s funny; in this era of e-roith, a plain old paper letter takes on a intimacy I would come home at the end of the day to find one -- or none, many days--or a sketch, or both, crammed into an envelope and scraith e of the drawings on the bulletin board above my desk At home, my office is also rowing exhibition, as I lay in bed with

Oddly, once I&039;d pinned up two or three of those sketches, I stopped having that sense one gets of being single and alatching out for so to Robert--I who had never wanted to belong to anything I guess in the end we belong to e love It wasn&039;t that I thought Robert was available or that I had soation to be faithful to hi that I wouldn&039;t have wanted any other pair of eyes to see those drawings from my bed He drew trees, people, houses, me, from memory; he drew himself in a "funk" over his latest project I still don&039;t knohat it es, whether he would have done them anyway and stuffed them into a file drawer or dropped them on his office floor, or whether he did more of them or drew them with fresh inspiration because they were for me

Once, he sentthat it was one of his favorites I didn&039;t knohether or not to take it as a declaration from Robert himself, but I kept it in my pocket for several days before I tacked it on oing

The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles

I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder

I didn&039;t put his letters up on my bulletin board, however Those sometimes arrived with the sketches, soht, a reflection, an ie I think Robert was--is--a writer at heart, too; if someone had collected in order all those bits and pieces of his writing to me, they would have ood novel about his daily life and the nature he was constantly trying to paint I wrote him back every time; I had a rule for s balanced, so that if he sent only a sketch, I sent only a sketch in return, and if he sent only a note, I sent only a note in response If he sent both, er letter and illustrate it right on the page

I don&039;t know if he ever noticed this pattern, and it was one of the things I didn&039;t ask hied letters or sketches several times a week once our correspondence ell under way After our last fight, I made up a whole new rule: I would burn only the letters and keep the sketches, although I removed all but his very first sketch frolued to cardboard, a feeeks after he left, and tinted atercolor, and then I did a series of three sht as well have blended the colors with actual tears, they were so painful to work on

I often iined the post office box into which he put his hand every few days I wondered what size the box was, and whether his hand fit or just the fingers; I irown too large in Wonderland, groping up the chimney to catch whatever little character it was, a lizard or a mouse He knew my address, of course, which e once, as well; about halfway through our correspondence, Robert surprisedof a shoas having there, his second since he&039;d started teaching He said he was inviting me because of ive me a place to stay; I understood from this that he wanted to invite me but wasn&039;t sure he wanted me to come

I didn&039;t wish to displease him, but I didn&039;t like to displease myself either, so I drove down fro day&039;s trip -- and stayed at a Motel 6 outside the town There was a wine-and-cheese reception at the new art gallery on the Greenhill campus I didn&039;t dare to call Robert, so I sent a note to the PO box several days before I arrived for the opening, which he didn&039;t get until too late

My hands were tre when I walked into the reception I hadn&039;t seen Robert since Maine--and since we&039;d begun writing each other--and I already regretted having coht think I&039;d come to disrupt his life in some hich I honestly hadn&039;t I just wanted to see his whose conception and execution I&039;d heard about week after week I had dressed in a very ordinary way, in a black turtleneck and ood half hour after the party started I saw Robert at once, towering over the crowd in one corner; several guests ineglasses in their hands sees The place was mobbed, not only with students and faculty but also with a lot of elegant people who didn&039;t look as if they belonged to a se There were probably buyers there, too

The paintings, whenever you could get a glier than any work by him I&039;d seen before, nearly life-sized scenes and portraits, often full-length depictions of the lady I ree, except that now she was not only bigger but also thrust into a terrible scene, holding what looked like the dead body of another, older wo over her I wondered if this was supposed to be her ruesome wound in the round, I remember, some of them facedown on cobblestones, or with blood on their backs, but they were the bodies of ures: a street of soes were straight out of the ht i of the execution of Eh Robert&039;s ies were more detailed and realistic

It was hard to tell what all this was about; I just know that the power of his fantasy swept over you as soon as you saw those scenes: the woman was as beautiful as ever, even with her face white and the front of her dress stained, but Robert had depicted so horrible It was all the more horrible because she was lovely, as if he&039;d felt coown, her face stark I&039;d gathered froe, but seeing the; I had a htened, as if I&039;d been corresponding with a ; it disorientedlove for Robert Then I saw the treures, the sense of coore, and I kneas looking at paintings that would last in ione

I al Robert at all, partly out of this shock, partly to keep the sense of privacy between us--and partly out of riveting shyness as well, I&039;ll admit But I&039;d driven so far that I finally made myself walk over to hi through the crowd, and he froze for a moment Then a startled, joyful expression flashed over his face--how I treasured the remembrance of that look afterward--and he collected hi it all very proper,to murmur to me first that he was very touched that I had coe he was in person, how strangely handsoan at once to introducebut my name and, in a couple of cases, that I was a painter as well

A these momentary introductions, was his wife, who shookkind about myself, to make me welcome, whoever I was Mercifully, someone else waylaid her a second later I was stricken byI would have called jealousy if I hadn&039;t kno absurd that would be I liked her instantly and, in spite of myself and forever after, at a distance She was ined a sort of huntress for hier-than-life Diana)--in fact, she just caolden floith a green-stemmed dress If she&039;d been my friend, I would have asked her to letthe colors

I felt the war, after I&039;d tactfully left early without speaking to Robert again so that he would not have to cope at all with the question of where I was staying and for how long, and also after I had driven a few hours back toward DC, when I lay curled,seen hi seen thenot

Rue de Boulogne, Passy, Paris

Mon cher mari:

I hope this finds you and Papa as well as can be expected Have you had a great deal of work? Will you be returning to Nice or can you stay at hoetting on perfectly here and have spent the first day painting on the proht for May, if cool, and a before dinner Uncle accoe canvas of the water and cliffs I confess I have done only one thing I like, and it is rather sketchy, at that--a couple of local wo alongside, but no doubt I will have to try sorander in order to keep up The landscape is as lovely as I reed by the season&039;s difference--the hills are just greening now, and the horizon looks gray-blue, without those fluffy midsummer clouds Our hotel is quite comfortable, so you should have no worries--it is spotless and well appointed, and I like the relative si--you would approve The trip did not tire me at all, and I fell pleasantly asleep the ht with hi on e are not painting, so I shall be able to rest during those ti Thackeray for entertainment There&039;s no need for you to send anyone toperfectly and am pleased that Ess Please keep yourself very well--don&039;t go out without your coat unless the weather becolike there Know me to be your devoted

Beatrice