Countess, Part 2: Blank Wombs and the Second Apprentice

Landon Freeman lives in the home of an artist. The space is vast, comfortable, and littered with the debris of a struggling creative soul. Blank canvases sit on easels surrounded by palettes with many different mixtures of paints, inks, and tools Martin can’t identify off the top of his head. He looks around for any indication that a brawny, capable man like Landon lives here. Maybe one corner of the studio seems to contain a jumble of his belongings. It hurts Martin just to think about it.

“What’s with all the blank canvases?” asks Tommy.

The Countess heaves a tormented sigh. “Would you like the short version or the long version.”

“The short version,” Martin blurts.

She smiles at his tenacity. It occurs to Martin that she might think he’s joking, but before he can cut her off she begins reciting the long version of her story.

“You are a comedian, Tom?” she asks.

“Sort of. I am as of today, just not a very good one.”

“Well then, you understand the need of an artist to feel inspired.”

Tom shifts his weight from one foot to another. “How can you really be an artist before you’re inspired? When everyone starts out, we’re all just plain creatures with no title. Then inspiration hits, and we become artists.”

“Certainly that’s one way of looking at it,” she concedes, “but I dare say that someone without an artistic soul wouldn’t know what to do with the most divine of inspiration even if it were shining golden in front of them with a note from God tacked on. These canvases here are for both inspiration and receptacles. If, one day, I feel the need to fill their voids, I can simply grab a brush or whatever implement most pleases me and go about my business. On the other hand, if some other seed inspires me, they can be my womb.”

Tom nods. Martin scowls. “That’s disgusting. You could have gone this whole visit without mentioning reproductive organs,” he says.

She has the gall to laugh at him, which only serves to further unsettle him. “Have I offended you? Have I made you uncomfortable? I figured no topics were taboo for someone like you.”

“Oh, I have no problem discussing dicks and vaginas all day if that’s what people ask of me, just not...”

“Me?” Martin has the sudden urge to run out of the apartment and leave Tommy behind. He’s already said too much, though. It’s time to face the consequences.

“Yeah. We really don’t know each other well enough to talk about things like that.” He has no idea if that’s a good excuse.

“Hmm. I suppose you’re allowed to be different from your stage persona.” She looks at the floor, then turns and beckons for Martin and Tommy to follow her to a sitting area with a couch and chairs.

Tommy leans over a little to whisper. “You’re being kind of an asshole, dude.” Martin waves him away like he’s swatting at a swarm of insects. Tommy pulls back. “Just saying, man.”

The two men take up a good portion of the couch across from where Tess is sitting, looking awfully pleased with herself. She crosses her legs, intertwines her fingers, and leans in toward her visitors. “So, onward to the matter at hand, yes?” She looks to Tommy. “Your question about the canvases cut quickly to a point I was hoping to make later: I am stuck. As an artist, I am stuck. There’s something I thought I had in me that isn’t flowing, and yet the desire to turn these canvases into something beautiful is there.”

Martin stares blankly at her. He can think of a handful of crazy reasons why this might involve him, but he’d rather ignore them than vocalize them. He has no desire to give her ideas.

“And as you know, Martin, Landon and I are fans of your shows. One thing that really blows my mind is that you have all new material every time. Do you have other comedians you work with?”

“No.”

“Then I am duly impressed,” she admits.

“I don’t really do shows very often,” Martin points out.

“Wait,” says Tommy, “you don’t repeat any jokes?”

Martin shrugs. “Maybe I have. I don’t actually keep track of it. But yeah, to the best of my knowledge, I don’t repeat jokes.”

“Jeez. That sounds rough. I think I’d rather work with a stable of solid jokes and just mix in the new stuff.”

“Yeah, well I’ll tell you why I hate that later.” Tommy lets his curiosity subside.

“I don’t mean to seem so obsequious, but you’ve left me quite interested, Martin.” Martin can picture it now, running some kind of artist day school for wandering souls and writers with blocks.

“Look, I already have one unexpected follower, Tess. I’m not looking to share my methods with anyone else right now.” The thought of having to put up with her ceaseless musings on art and inspiration makes him a tad suicidal.

“And I understand that. No offense, of course, but Tom’s unexpected to me as well. I had really figured things wouldn’t have changed much for you in the last week or so.” Martin is flipping her off in his head with such intensity that her torso combusts in alignment with his will, charring her face and causing her eyeballs to bubble and drip out of their sockets. When reality reasserts itself, he’s crushed to find out that it was all a fiction. “But I think it can still work. All that I ask is the opportunity to observe you from a distance. I won’t interfere with your life in the least bit, but I want to understand you. I want to understand what it is that lets you create like you do.”

“It’s weirdos like you and Herb Rollins and Gay Martin and Tammy the Genius.” The Countess seems puzzled. “Well, at this point you’ll probably meet them. Don’t worry about it.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Am I going to get any compensation for this invasion of privacy?”

“What would you like?” she asks. Martin has to wonder if financial compensation would come from her bank account or Landon’s.

“I guess it depends on how long you plan on doing this.”

“Until I understand you, Martin.”

“Don’t you have any other people you could monitor? You could follow Tommy around all the time and still get to observe me every once in a while.”

“Hey now, don’t I get a say in this?” The sound of Tommy speaking startles Martin. He had forgotten he was there.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Why don’t you just let Tess hang around you for a week or so for a trial period.”

“That sounds marvelous!” The Countess is thrilled by compromise, apparently.

“And I’ll want fifty dollars per day,” Martin adds. Tommy laughs.

“Done.” She stands up and presents her hand to Martin. Pleased by the prospect of a few hundred dollars, Martin springs to his feet and shakes her hand.

“But you won’t interfere with my life?”

“Not unless you want me to.” Martin snorts derisively, feels bad about it, then finds himself utterly confused by the sensation of guilt.

“Alright, Tom, let’s get out of here.” He starts to walk toward the door, and Tom follows like a trained hound.

“Wait, how will I know where to find you?” Tess calls after them.

Martin laughs maniacally. “That’s part of your job, lady. My job’s just to keep on movin’.”

In the elevator, Tom can’t help himself. “Did you seriously just ask for money so she could hang out with you?”

“Did she seriously just say yes? Good lord. Everyone is a fucking idiot." This new promise of cash makes Martin feel better for the moment. "Sorry you didn’t get to meet Landon, by the way.”

“That’s okay.”

The door opens on the first floor to Landon Freeman and Herb Rollins chatting in the lobby. Martin’s blood begins to boil. “You son of a bitch!”

“Martin Avery!” cheers Herb. Landon looks upset by the implication of Martin’s anger. Tommy is horrified.

“Whoa, Martin. What’s the problem?” Landon, in his glorious glory, seems genuinely concerned by Martin’s anger. It’s soothing, and Martin finds this frustrating.

“I thought you invited me over to just chill out and talk to, you know, you. And not her,” he says, pointing toward the ceiling.

“Ah, it would seem Martin has a problem with your Countess, Earl Freeman.” Herb has a jolly laugh at his own commentary. At this point, Martin’s mind jumps to the hypothetical scenario in which the two pairs of men get into a fight. Tommy would clearly have to tackle Landon. Martin is just too scrawny to take him on. On the other hand, Herb is, as he describes it himself, “delicate”. Maybe Martin and Tommy could even win.

“Martin, I just figured that you could maybe let her get some ideas to get her started with her painting and your ego would be satisfied at the same time.” Landon is handsome. He’s tall and strong, and the finer details of his look have been determined by the conditions of his travels around the world. He is, in a word, rugged. Beyond this, he is also a beloved public speaker. It annoys Martin to no end that despite all this he remains a really likable person.

“Not to mention he gets a decent payday,” Tommy inserts. Martin shrinks back.

“What?” Landon asks. This mention of money exchanging hands has taken this conversation in the wrong direction. Landon’s surprise makes Martin feel guilty again. This is too much for him to handle in one day.

“Well, we’re gonna head out now. Nice seeing you guys.” Martin pushes past Tommy and walks briskly for the door, heading out into the parking lot before anyone can get a chance to stop him.

He waits in the car while Tommy says his pleasantries to Landon and Herb. Martin doesn't know if he's funny yet, but Tommy is at the very least polite.

Tommy slips into the passenger seat. “What the hell was that about?”

“I’m just having an off day. I feel weird right now, and I don’t really want the Countess hanging around me all day. She creeps me out.”

“And I still don’t get that. She was nothing but nice to you.” Martin recalls flames, eyeballs.

“For the most part. I think she was just being reserved with you around, or maybe she was sober. Last time I had to chat with her, she was saying the most boring shit about aesthetics you can possibly imagine, then she started describing her sex life with Landon in horrible, horrible detail. I know things about that man that I didn’t even realize I could know.” Tommy has to ponder this for a moment.

“That sounds kind of awkward.”

“Yeah? Sounds like the next week of our lives, dipshit.” Martin starts the car as grumpily as he can manage.