Art Museum

Retired military man volunteers as an art museum guide and keeps order in his section of the museum.

Jonesie, a retired battalion sergeant enjoyed his quiet afternoons as a volunteer guide at the Royal Museum of Art. After recovering from shell shock, from his last tour in the Sudan, he found his role in the museum peaceful and thankfully uneventful. He couldn’t wish for anything more than being surrounded by beautiful art in a nice, quiet setting. 

One lazy August afternoon, Jonesie watched a young school girl, about ten years old wander into his section of the museum. The young girl, dressed in a bright summer jumper seemed to be unescorted. He subtly twitched his white mustache and kept an eye out for her parent. She ambled around the marble floor for a while, viewing various paintings, then stopped in front of a sprawling canvas of water lilies. Jonesie made a quiet sniff and lifted his chin before he approached the girl, but stood off to one side to observe her reaction to the painting. 

“Why did the artist paint so many flowers floating on water?” she asked in a soft voice while continuing to stare at the painting. Jonesie appreciated her subdued tone and answered:

“Most likely because that’s what he saw, my dear” he replied and positioned his arms and legs in a military posture of “parade rest.”

The young girl peered closer at the oil painting and her eyes widened at the expressive splashes of shape and color. She put a finger to her chin and squinted her eyes. 

“Did he really see all that?” she asked. 

“Artists see more than the common person I imagine” offered the retired soldier keeping a stiff chin while adjusting his shoulders under his museum blazer. 

“Oh” she said and took a tentative step back. Seeing she was still fascinated by the art, Jonesie moved a bit closer and asked calmly: 

“And what do you see in the painting young miss?” he adjusted the cuffs of his red blazer while she mused. 

The girl drew her face so close to the canvas her nose almost touched as she blinked rapidly and cocked her head. 

“Well…I see a funny frog swimming under the big floating leaf in the middle of the picture.”

“WHAT!?” exclaimed the retired battalion sergeant, who bent at the waist to get a closer look himself. 

“Uh-huh, I see a fog and- OH, I see a mean ol’ alligator swimming to eat that silly frog.” 

The art museum volunteer straightened up, “Reeeeally” he said considering the young visitor from the corner of his eye.

The Guide twitched his mustache and looked at the ceiling, considering whether the young child was putting him on when a woman carrying a baby entered his quadrant of the gallery. The young infant released a blood curdling scream. 

“Jessica, Jessica, come here quickly and help mommy.” 

Jonesie watched as the young girl in the bright summer jumper flitted to her mother’s side. Her mother laid the wailing baby on a bench in the center of the esteemed gallery. 

“Little Toby has soiled his diaper and I need help changing him right away, sweetie” said Jessica’s mother while unslinging a shoulder satchel. Little Jessica’s eyes widened and she back-stepped and slipped behind Jonesie to peek at the scene from around his pant leg. Her mother looked and saw her daughter hiding so she addressed the museum guide. 

“Please sir, I’m in need of some help changing my baby son’s diaper” she stared unblinking into Jonesie’s sober face. 

“Madam, I am a museum guide, here to help patrons fully appreciate the master artworks displayed here. Further more, I’m a veteran, a battalion sergeant of the great war and not versed nor accustomed to nurse maid-ing” he punctuated his statement by assuming a posture of attention while staring over the woman’s head. Jessica peeked at her mother and clutched a handful of Jonesie’s striped trouser leg. 

The once serene atmosphere of his art gallery was now torn with torturous screams and the atrocity of a horrifically soiled diaper.  The mother busied herself with unpacking her satchel, laying out baby wipes, diapers, creams and powders around the flailing infant. The stench from the diaper reminded Jonesie of heaping piles of camel piles dung in Khartoum. A young college couple started to enter the gallery, but abruptly about-faced. This was intolerable. 

“Jessica, darling, mommy would like you to help her with your baby brother Toby, please.”

“But I’m looking at the pretty artwork mommy and this nice man is asking me questions about the paintings.” 

“That’s all fine and well dear, but Toby needs attending to first.” Jessica’s mother Looked at Jonesie, who hadn’t moved and then at her daughter, who also hadn’t moved. “Come here and keep Toby still while I clean and diaper him, honey.” 

Jonesie recognized the shell shocked look on Jessica’s face. Toby continued to wail and thrash his chubby legs and arms. The war-torn veteran closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. This was his section of the museum, and he was there to keep serenity for gallery visitors. He looked over the mother’s head at a mirage of sand dunes and felt 120 degree heat on his cheeks. Jonesie inhaled a huge breath then pushed up his blazer sleeves and quickly bent down to secure the baby’s arms and legs so the mother could finish diapering him. 

The task was soon completed and little Toby, now muffled, simpered contentedly at his mother’s breast. The gallery was once again under the retired sergeant’s calm and peaceful command. 

Jonesie turned and noticed the young girl back in front of the water lilies. He approached and stood silent behind her. 

“Do you think the artist saw all the things I did?” she asked. 

Jonesie raised his chin and replied: 

“I imagine he must have my dear, after all, he was French you know.” 

Author's Note

Been on a hiatus, working on my art, but this is one of my latest ideas. Critiques and comments welcome.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is one of your best stories. As I recall you can sometimes ramble but this is as focused as a laser & it's a perfect length for the short attention span of many online readers -- packs a wallop in such a short vignette! The best thing you do very well in this story is to SHOW us as much with body language as you do with dialogue. The dialogue feels very compelling becuz we can see & feel these back-and-forths & the tension packs a ton of anticipation for where your storyline is going (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[roarke]

Thank you very much M, you are too too kind. I thought about writing this same story with a couple different treatments, more detailed and more, say "realistic/drama-ish" but for entertainment sake, this "cartoon" sketch is probably just about right. Glad you are still on WC.

[Andrew Nelson Stewart]

A perfect connection how Jonesie (Torn-war veteran) Now working at an atmosphere described so peacefully laying down the character's pathos. The veteran deep appreciation of art as he offers answers to the little curious girl. The speaks of art was a nice conversational piece in the middle of the story. The chaos that comes with enjoying occupational atmosphere. In the end you get a sense of who the veteran really is like for example: At first he's reluctant to assist the mother with the infant and after the long screams that was obnoxious to the veteran. He finally gives in to end it sooner. Someone who takes the initiative to get back to his peaceful paradise and to resume the conversation who made a new friend based on mutual respect and understanding of one other. In the line " “Artists see more than the common person I imagine” offered the retired soldier keeping a stiff chin while adjusting his shoulders under his museum blazer." The relation between War nostalgia and Art was beautifully put how a war-torn veteran can tell you the same. Like going to the beach is like going to war, cause you bring the sand home with you. Keep writing enjoyable read during this rainy storm I have up here. Sincerely your friend in writing and life :)

[roarke]

Thank you very much for the read and comments Andrew. I think I need to work on this piece a bit more because you got so much out of it, I could maybe tweak it in that direction, which as you were able to read from it is more the direction I was going. My over all hop is that anyone reading my stories receive entertainment. So thank you again for your review.

[dukovan]

I loved it. This feels like a meeting place of how a mind and reality actually work. The rhythms in the chaos. I could see Jonesie having his own private flashbacks that juxtaposed the attending of the soiled diaper to attending to an injured solider on the battlefield. But thats all under the surface. Seriously, I love this

[roarke]

Thanks D, sometimes the simple ones are the most enjoyable, and you got all the between the lines stuff I hoped for.

[Cherrie Palmer]

adorable, and it played out in my mind with color and ease, I loved it. you ended it so simply and clever, just like a man might say to a child.

[roarke]

Thanks Cherrie, exactly my intent. I toyed with expanding this story, but then it lost its playful nature. These are "small scene" stories, not really a short story, but I like writing them and if readers like them, all the better.

[Cherrie Palmer]

Yes, I've done that before. And making a short story into something large losses the intimate feel of the short story.