Chapter 3
Silas and Chance discussed the key details of their Humanities assignment, decided what time to meet at the National Gallery of Art to select their painting, and began to plan out portions of the project strictly via e-mail. Though this wasn’t Silas’ ideal medium for communication, Chance insisted on it. All things considered, it turned out to be a very efficient approach and helped them to keep a solid record of their discussions with each other.
In order to strategically and logically allocate project responsibilities between the teammates, they each sent messages outlining their majors and personal interests. As a result of that endeavor, Silas learned that Chance was an English major, in her junior year, who thoroughly loved language and the arts. In turn, Silas indicated to Chance that he was a senior Computer Science major mostly interested in theorems, algorithms, and quantitative data. Taking their strengths and capabilities into careful consideration, the teammates agreed that Silas would be the best one on their two-person team to conduct research about the history of the piece they would ultimately select and gather other key facts. Chance, on the other hand, would be the ideal teammate to discuss the painting’s imagery and describe their collective impression of the work. While it wasn’t quite the purely-collaborative approach Dr. Byrne suggested, they decided that it might be the most cogent, most effective approach for them. Silas and Chance agreed to complete the assignment by meeting at the gallery on Thursday, drafting their respective parts out by Saturday morning, and then revising, consolidating, and submitting the final report well in advance of the Tuesday due date.
The more Silas worked with Chance, the more he realized that his initial trepidation about teamwork on this project was a little ill-founded. Although their exchanges weren’t as warm or chummy as he would’ve liked them to be, he could definitely tell that she was a woman about her business, that she had very high expectations, and that she had the smarts and the work ethic to exceed them. In fact, the more he thought about it, if he had to choose between a partner with a sunny disposition or one who was reliable, the latter would win out every time.
About an hour and fifteen minutes before they were to meet and choose a painting for their project, Silas began to make his way over to the museum, in the nation’s capital, on the Metro rail. As he rode the train, he strategically reviewed Dr. Byrne’s assignment specs and previewed some of the museum’s paintings online so that he would be ready to select a good muse for their project. By the time he reached the station closest to the gallery, he had buttressed his understanding of the assignment’s requirements and established a good working knowledge of the artwork that would be on display.
Silas arrived in the main vicinity of the museum about ten minutes early. Though he had expected to wait for her, he immediately saw Chance sitting on a bench nearby when he walked through the entrance. As always, she looked amazing. This time, her golden hair was in fluffy curls, framing her face, and bringing out the loveliness of her eyes.
“Hey, Chance!” he called out, eager to get her attention and trying – somewhat successfully – not to let on that he was attracted to her. She responded by looking up and quickly gathering the bag and notebook she had just sat down sat beside her mere moments prior.
“Hey, you’re here early,” she said, walking over to meet him and playfully looking at her watch. “I like that!” she mused, thinking out loud, registering her approval almost in a whisper.
“Should we go ahead and get started now?” Silas asked, hoping to jump right in to the task at hand.
“Sure! Let’s do it,” Chance chimed, already in motion, walking toward the main exhibit.
Opting for something akin to an ad-hoc divide and conquer approach, Silas and Chance split up momentarily, charged to look for pieces that spoke to them individually. As Silas explored the gallery, scanning the well-appointed works of art, he was struck by the expanse of color, imagery, and meaning that surrounded him. While he found the realism of a few pieces quite stunning, he wasn’t really moved one way or the other by any one of them. From his perspective, he was swimming in a sea of plausible choices – all with their own merit, all worthy of review.
While their paths around the gallery meandered and only intersected now and again, Silas had been trailing her momentarily when he suddenly heard Chance gasp. He looked over to see that her eyes were squarely affixed on The Tragedy by Pablo Picasso. The painting featured a woman, man, and small boy, all with somber facial expressions, standing by the sea, awash in various shades of blue. This was one of very few times, in their limited interactions, that Silas saw Chance express an emotion that wasn’t rooted in disdain or contempt. That fact alone – that this particular painting could bring that kind of reaction out of her – drew him in and made him take note. He stood beside her and crossed his arms, trying to get a concrete read on his own initial reaction to the piece.
“Look at this!” Chance insisted, motioning her hand toward the painting and allowing her eyes to eagerly soak up every inch of it. “The blues, the pain in each of their faces, the realness,” Chance murmured, clasping her hands in front her and looking, momentarily, over at Silas. “I think we should go with this one! What do you think?” she asked, surprising Silas by leveraging a questions as if she was open to suggestion. He had expected a solid declaration more than anything else but played along nonetheless.
“Uh, I agree,” Silas said, nodding, his hand attached to his chin, his pointer finger now covering his lips.
“I guess that settles it, then,” Chance attested, her eyes still in motion across the canvas. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” she added shortly after, as if a light bulb had just illuminated over her head. “I’m actually quite interested to know the historical context of this piece. Do you think you can start that part of the write-up and have a draft ready by tomorrow evening?”
“Yeah, I can do that!” Silas said, thinking that he would get to it right after their Humanities class later that evening.
“Great, I’ll work on my draft and have it ready by then too. Can you meet Saturday afternoon? To go over the drafts and make revisions? I’d like to get this one in the can as soon as possible.”
“Ooo, Saturday I’ve got – I’ve got a prior obligation,” Silas stuttered, knowing that he would have his hands full with Ava.
“Ah, I see,” Chance replied, looking as if she wasn’t expecting Silas to answer that way.
“How about this?” he conceded, preparing to offer – what he hoped would be – a welcomed alternative. “We can still make good progress. Let’s keep try to create and revise the draft online. I’ll be able to add my parts, review yours, and suggest modifications – I just won’t be able to physically meet.”
“I guess that’s fair,” Chance shrugged, “as long as we have a solid draft by Sunday. Can you meet late Sunday afternoon? Say around 3:00 PM?”
“Uh, I should be able to do that,” Silas said, looking up momentarily as he processed the thought and remembered that Kalyn would be by to get Ava the day before.
“Cool, I’ll create a GoogleDoc that we can both edit. I’ll send you the link,” Chance announced. “Let’s just keep modifying it so that it’ll be in good shape by the time we meet.”
“That works for me,” Silas said, taking out his phone, and typing a memo to himself. Once he had successfully recorded his note, an idea jumped into his mind. “Hey, I’m going back to campus now,” he mentioned, looking at his watch and realizing that their class would start in a little over an hour, “are you riding the train back to campus? I’m going that way.”
“No,” Chance uttered, tucking her notebook back into her bag. “I’m going to hang back for a little while! I’ll see you there, though. OK?”
“OK, sure,” he affirmed, unsure if he was being rejected or – simply – deemed less of a priority than some other task on her agenda.
As he prepared to leave, Silas stole a moment to get one last look at Chance. He had been careful not to stare at her since they had been paired together – but at this point, he couldn’t help himself. As his eyes brushed over her fact, she looked a little different to him. Silas couldn’t quite place why, but wondered if the difference he had detected wasn’t physical at all – and if the change he had noticed actually had more to do with him than her.
Since the moment he saw her on the trail, Silas’ view of Chance had evolved quite a bit. Yet, after interacting with her over the last few days, he had established a more in-depth view of who she was and how she operated. From what he could tell, Chance was the type of person with a hard outer shell and a sweet, marshmallow-y center. He deduced that she purposely came off as sharp or reserved just to protect herself. But, as he looked at her now, something about her came off a little softer. It was clear that he had been reading Chance wrong the whole time. This gave him a new angle to explore and subsequently a new hope: instead of attempting to crack Chance’s shell, and ultimately earn her friendship, he might actually get farther by eroding it layer by layer.
After exchanging goodbyes with his partner, Silas made his way back to the Metro station and, in the meantime, had a hard time getting Chance off of his mind. Her beauty, her cool, her total self-confidence, the whole package – including her aloof demeanor – was all just so attractive to him. He didn’t think that he would have much of an opportunity – anytime soon – to erode the proverbial shell she had built. But, he reasoned, that he could lay the groundwork for something more substantial in the future. For now, his plan was to make a good impression on their assignment by contributing solid work, on time, and to specifications. It wasn’t a fool-proof plan but, for now, it was the best way he could think to start.
No sooner than he got back to campus, Silas looked down at his phone and realized that Chance had already sent the link to a shared GoogleDoc. As they had discussed at the museum, this is how they would generate and edit their initial drafts. “She is on it,” he whispered, impressed by her punctuality and – once again – her focus.
After arriving to class, settling into his seat, and waiting for Dr. Byrne to arrive, Silas started diving into the history of The Tragedy. Ready to get the ball rolling on his contribution to the project, he launched the web browser on his phone, did a preliminary search, and started writing his draft using pen and paper. As somewhat of a techno-agnostic, it was normal for Silas to maneuver between traditional and contemporary methods for doing just about everything – taking and storing notes was no different.
Realizing that class would start soon, Silas actively searched the room for a glimpse of Chance. Coming up empty, he went back to working on his section, gathering key information, and sorting through the many returns that resulted from his query. When Chance finally emerged in the classroom, beating Dr. Byrne by a matter of seconds, he persistently looked in her direction. When her eyes finally met his, she waved, acknowledging his gaze. It wasn’t an earth-shattering exchange but, to Silas, it was progress. If nothing else, he was definitely was making progress in the right direction.