ArtWrite: 9/17: GLORI J. TUITT
Updated: Dec 4, 2020
Kayla’s soft oversized sweater was pink like a grapefruit, and the innocent color reminded Joley of the Kayla she’d known as a child. At 10, Kayla’s ribbon-entwined braids and immaculately pressed dresses were at odds with her adult-like fierceness. Now, here she was in Joely’s office, 15 years later, a woman with long hair, now free of braids, streaked with shades of honey and straw. The front pieces were clipped behind her head, revealing the same eyes, brown and focused like an archer’s. “No more glasses?” “Contacts.” Kayla said. “It’s amazing.” Joley said.“I still see the you in you.” As soon as she said it, Joely regretted it. The admission was too intimate. Knowing that Joely had ever looked at her that closely could make Kayla uncomfortable. “You always did,” Kayla’s two large front teeth still dominated her smile. And with that, the nature of their bond, teacher/student, woman/mentor, whatever its label, was open and on the table, ready to be mined.