Discordant Melody (Kerry)

As she enters the room again, Brandi is transfixed by the cold stillness of the opened bottle on the side table. Their copy of Der Blaue Reiter lies innocently on the dark armchair. The chair is set beside the bed and its crumpled dishevelment of bedclothes. She is aware of the easel standing astride in the corner and of the unfinished nude resting mutely against the wall nearby. Only when she comes forward to inspect the bottle does she see his naked body slumped on the rug, and his empty glass.

Despite the chill of the autumn evening, she breaks out in a cold sweat as she hurries around the bed to Greg’s side. She scrambles to feel for his pulse. He is still alive. She pulls the blanket off the bed and covers him. The discordant sounds of the Schoenberg music on the gramophone player are grating on her already tense nerves. She reaches over, turns off the cacophony and sinks anxiously onto the rug beside Greg. Her fingers fumble restlessly with the tassels on the blanket.

She recalls the frenzy of the last few days in his studio.

She had responded to his ad for an artist’s model in the Cologne art almanac. He required a model to pose for him as the subject of a small painting, which was to be a gift for his fiancée. They were to be married the following weekend in Bonn where his fiancée lived. She had warmed immediately to his American affability and generosity and was delighted to take the job. He had asked her to start immediately. She realised now on reflection that she had offered only token resistance to his suggestion that she move in with him.

She was enveloped by his enthusiasm for the German Bauhaus movement, its search for the essence of a subject, for the harmony between form and function. Greg had spoken passionately about the connection between painting and the art of the distillery. Their visits to the pub in the evenings had been an opportunity for him to experiment with some of the products of Germany’s traditional distilleries.

Her mind returns to the present as he stirs beside her. She touches his thick hair. He sighs almost imperceptibly and rolls his head toward her, still unconscious.

She begins to wonder about their future and is alarmed by the tight constriction developing in her chest. The jealousy and hatred she feels for the unknown fiancée frightens her. Her hand clamps tightly on his hair.

With her other hand, Brandi reaches over for his empty glass and smells the bitter sweetness of the remains of the liqueur. The cause of his sudden collapse is clear. He had tasted her gift. She is certain now of his almond allergy. She stretches across the bed for the bottle on the side table and refills the glass. Raising his head from the floor, she slowly dribbles the Amaretto liqueur into his slack mouth until the glass is empty.

Alternative titles:
Brandi snifter
Bauhaus distilled