The Artist's Paradise

by Pamela S Wetterman

  “What good’s a future if we never see each other?”

  “Fine. I’m a jerk. How can I make this up to you?”

  Silence.

  “It was work. I had to finish preparing for a meeting with Carl. I fell asleep at my desk. But look.” He held up the small wrapped gift, “I have a special anniversary present for you. See?” He swallowed hard.

  She turned away as if he didn’t exist. Then turning back to him, with a flip of her shoulder-length hair, she asked, “Where were you? I called several times.”

  “At work. Where else would I be? ”

  “I tried to reach you. You weren’t in your office. You had your cell phone turned off, too. It went straight to voicemail. I’m no fool, Jonathan.”

  He stomped over, stood in front of her, and glared. “Carl and I went to dinner to discuss my closing arguments. I turned off the cell in the restaurant. I was back in the office by ten o’clock. I must have forgotten to turn it back on.”

  “Whatever happened to calling your wife?”

  “Give me a break.” What the hell. She was impossible.

  Angie backed up, jaw set as if chiseled in stone. “Well, you seem to forget lots of important things.”

  This was going badly. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

  “Your promises are worthless. I’m tired of you putting your work and everyone else ahead of me. If you don’t love me enough to come home on our anniversary, maybe we need to reconsider being together.”

  Jonathan’s throat tightened. “You can’t mean that. I love you. We can make this work. I’ll change. Give me another chance.”

  “I refuse to talk to you tonight. You can stay in the guest room, or you can leave. I really don’t care which.” She swiveled around, still carrying Mister Tubbs and stomped out of the living room and up the stairs.

  Leave? Jonathan stared at the gift in his hand and slumped onto the sofa. Yep, this was really serious.

  Chapter 5

  Angie stirred in the bed as a gentle kiss touched her cheek. She blinked, and her emerald-green eyes opened. Next to her sat Mister Tubbs, stubby tail wagging.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  He moved closer to her ear and emitted a sweet cooing sound. She smiled, rolled over onto her side, and glanced at the alarm clock. “Wow, it’s almost 8. I’ve overslept. Hungry?”

  Angie crawled out from under the bedcovers and stretched. As her feet touched the floor, she surveyed the other side of the king-sized bed—much too large for only one person. Had Jonathan stayed in the guest room last night?

  A silver tray on her dressing table caught her attention. A coffee urn and floral-china cup adorned the tray. A neatly folded card leaned against the coffee urn. Next to the cup, placed like a truce offering, were gifts—roses in a bronze vase and a velvet box tied with a gold-silk ribbon. Angie poured a cup of hot coffee, inhaled the Hazelnut sent, and laced it with cream. She hesitated a moment and then read the folded note.

  Angie,

  I know there is no way to make up for what happened last night. But if you forgive me, I will be the happiest man in Chicago. I had to go to work today. Carl would not take no for an answer, but I will be home for dinner and we can celebrate our eight years together. I’ll call you.

  Love,

  Jonathan.

  Why did he think expensive gifts could make up for his continual neglect? She slowly lowered herself onto the chair in front of the dressing table as if she weighed five hundred pounds. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and stared at herself in the mirror. She had dared to make a change. She’d attempted to glow with red-carpet glamour. What a waste. It had been all for nothing. What had happened to them? He could be so charming, loving, generous, and at the same time, cold and distant. Was this all love was?

  The ringtone on her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. “Hi Vicki, I’m so glad you called.”

  “Do I need to hire a lawyer for you? Is it murder or divorce?”

  “Not yet, maybe soon. I’m favoring murder. He slept in the guest room last night, and of course, he’s already gone. Work calls. You know. And as usual, Carl’s the villain, not Jonathan.”

  “Any peace offerings?”

  “He left me hot coffee, roses in a beautiful bronze vase, and a small box from Tiffany’s.”

  “Good job, Girl. What did he get you from Tiffany’s?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t opened the box. I’m too upset to care. Looks expensive, probably jewelry by the size and shape.”

  “He must be feeling extremely guilty. It’s time to set out new ground rules.”

  “Yes, but guilty of what?” Angie stared into the mirror and sighed. “I don’t want him to pay. I want him to love me enough to keep his promises. I have to be able to trust him.”

  “You have his attention. When he comes home, share your feelings with him. Have you thought about counseling? It didn’t help us, but Patrick was a lost cause. Counseling might be just what you two need.”

  Angie grimaced. Oh sure, send them to counseling and all will be well. “Do you know how often my parents went to see a marriage counselor? Dad actually had the nerve to date one of the counselors after their sessions ended in failure. Yuck!”

  Angie leaned forward as Mister Tubbs jumped into her arms. His body-warmth comforted her. “You’re right about one thing. I’ll have to talk to him tonight. I can’t go on like this. I’m miserable.” She tiptoed over to the coffee urn and refilled her cup.

  “Remember when we talked about you having fun? Next weekend, I’m going to visit Susie at UT for Mother/Daughter weekend. Why not come with me.”

  The call waiting sound beeped in Angie’s ear. She looked at the display— Jonathan. She closed her eyes. Not yet.

  “I can’t just take off for the weekend.”

  “Why not?” Vicki asked. “Knoxville’s a fun town and you’ll have space away from that man.”

  “It’s your time with Susie. I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

  “Susie won’t mind. She loves you. Actually, she would prefer to have you as her mother over me, but you can’t change biology.”

  Angie snickered.

  “Besides, I need your input. Susie has a crush on her art prof. He’s probably harmless, but I’d appreciate your impression of him. She’s determined to introduce him to me.”

  “Yeah, like I’m a good judge.” Mister Tubbs’ small black eyes peered at her. Angie patted his backside and asked, “What about Mister Tubbs?”

  “Bring him. Since I usually travel with my cat, Charles, I only stay at pet-friendly hotels. I want you to see the University of Tennessee campus.”

  “Thanks for the invite,” Angie said. “Let me think about going. A short vacation could be just what I need. I haven’t been on a campus in over ten years. I’ll bet a lot has changed, and you’ve peeked my interest in that infamous professor. Artists are different.”

  Mister Tubbs scurried to his toy basket and grabbed his squeaky mouse. He tossed it into the air, pounced on it, and tossed it again.

  “Right now I’ve got to feed Mister Tubbs. He’s running in circles around the room with panic in his eyes. Catch you later.”

  “Yeah, I need to go too. Seriously, think about my offer, it would be good for you to get away. Call me.”

  An hour later, dressed in her favorite skinny jeans and a crisp boyfriend- white shirt, Angie dabbed on her Burt Bee lip-gloss. No need to do a full make up today.

  Morning faded into early afternoon. She spent the day organizing her office desk and reading. There had been no second call from Jonathan. What had she expected? Once he got to work, time lost all value.

  #

  Jonathan’s day in court ended. He gathered up his manila folders, stacked them in numerical order, and placed them into his black-leather briefcase. He knew the contents by heart. This trial had dragged on for ten months. The case should go to the jury next week. He had to prepare for his closing remarks. His firm depended o
n a favorable verdict. The client, a pharmaceutical company, was being sued for a diabetic drug found to be harmful to heart patients. Class Action suits could be devastating. With a positive verdict, his client would remain solvent.

  Jonathan dialed home. He’d tried to reach her before court but she never picked up. Checking the time on his cell phone, he knew he should’ve called at the lunch break, but the client required briefing prior to his testimony. There wasn’t even time for lunch.

  Angie answered on the sixth ring. “Hello.”

  He shivered as the cool word reached his ear. He took a deep breath and paced his response. Why wouldn’t she give him a break? “Hi honey. We just finished up in court.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m packing up and heading to the train. I’ll be home for dinner by 7 at the latest.”

  “Dinner? I’m not cooking tonight. After last night, it seems pointless.”

  Jonathan inhaled deeply and choked back a retort. “No problem. I’ll take you out. Name the place. I’ll have Gina call for reservations.”

  “I’m not hungry. Get takeout for yourself. Do whatever you like. Bye.”

  He closed his cell phone and slammed back the chair from the courtroom table. What’s her problem? He had no intention of paying for missing one dinner for the rest of his life.

  He grabbed the handle of his briefcase and stomped out of the courtroom. It was time for a truce or full-fledged war—her choice.

  Chapter 6

  Mister Tubbs launched into full bark mode. How did he know when someone was on the porch? The closer the intruder came, the more fierce the bark. He ruled the neighborhood.

  Angie peeked out the glass pane. Her mother stood on the front porch, arms full of grocery bags. Now what?

  She opened the door its full width. “Mom, what brings you here? Are you delivering groceries these days?”

  “Hi, Honey. No. I’m not into delivery, just good eating. Tonight, I’m cooking for you and Jonathan in celebration of your anniversary. I knew you two would have plans yesterday, but tonight’s mine.”

  Angie glanced at her mother, and then quickly turned away. Cooking for them? She must really be lonely. “Come in. There’s no guarantee Jonathan will be home for dinner, but I’m suddenly hungry. What are we making?”

  “Not coming home? Does that happen often?”

  “You know how lawyers are.” Angie waved her arm. “They bill by the hour and make lots of money.”

  Her mother pushed past Angie, stepped into the house, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Can we talk about Dad before we start cooking?” Angie asked.

  Her mother’s smile faded. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but if now’s better for you, it’s fine with me. I’ll put the groceries in the fridge until later. Got any coffee?”

  “Sure, coffee’s almost ready. I put on a fresh pot for myself a few minutes ago.”

  The steam carried the French vanilla aroma of fresh brewed coffee as Angie filled the two large mugs and added cream for both. She sat down at the kitchen table across from her mother.

  “What’s going on with you and Dad?”

  “Your dad and I spent the day talking.” Her mother leaned forward and took a sip of the hot coffee. “He doesn’t want to be married, and I can’t live with a man who acts like he’s single. My lawyer’s filing divorce papers next week”

  Angie crossed her arms as a deep breath escaped her lips. “You’re filing so fast?” She guessed she should not be surprised. Her mother wanted out, and she needed a large bank balance to maintain her lifestyle.

  “The lawyer thinks it’s’ best. Right now, your dad will be generous with the terms of the divorce, and I won’t be a bitch about his secret life. The longer the negotiations, the nastier things can become.”

  Angie’s shoulders tensed. Divorce was so final. She had feared they would divorce for years. She guessed it was inevitable. “Isn’t there another way? I’m not judging, just asking.”

  “God knows I’ve tried. I’ve looked the other way for years, but I can’t do it any longer. I deserve to be happy. I won’t grow old with a man who’s unfaithful. He suffocates me.”

  Angie stared at her mother. She pushed past the emotional pain and willed herself not to cry. “I understand. I can’t remember the last time either of you seemed happy. It’s difficult seeing your lives pulled apart. You know I love both of you.”

  “Thanks, somehow I knew you’d understand. It’s painful to talk about, but for those who love us, it’s really not hidden. Is it?”

  Angie’s cheeks burned. Her head throbbed. What did her mother know?

  #

  “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.” Her mother said, busying herself in the kitchen. “Do you think Jonathan will be home soon?”

  “I heard once that you’re only as sick as your secrets.” Angie reached for her mother’s hand. “I’m pretty sick.” She stared at the kitchen table.

  “I’m not sure I understand. What’s wrong?”

  “You asked about Jonathan earlier. We’re struggling. Most days he gets home after dinner or stays in the Carlton Hotel downtown. He forgets to call. He didn’t even come home for our anniversary.” Tears rolled down Angie’s cheeks.

  Her mother gently placed her hand on Angie’s arm. “I didn’t know, but I wondered. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not sure if he’s consumed with his career, or if there’s another woman. Maybe I don’t really want to know. I love him. How do I live without him?”

  Angie wiped the tears from her cheeks as her mother wrapped her arms around her and whispered, “Tears are a good beginning.”

  #

  Jonathan struggled to fill his lungs with air as he ran up the stairs to his front door. Why him? The train was never late. He told her 7 and it was after 8. He should have called. He unlocked the front door without a sound and peered inside. Mister Tubbs graced him with jumps and spins. Good smells greeted him from the kitchen. “Honey, I’m home. I smell something wonderful and I can’t wait to eat. What did you make?”

  Silence.

  Jonathan dropped his briefcase and gave Mister Tubbs a quick pat on the backside. He walked into the kitchen. Pots were nestled on low flames warming. No sign of Angie. The table was set for three. What the . . .?

  He took the stairs two at a time to their third-floor bedroom. Slowly opening the door, he saw Angie lying across the bed, eyes red and hair tossed like a mop. “I know I’m late, but the train was delayed. I’m sorry.”

  Angie’s eyes appeared puffy, as if her best friend had just died.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Mom came by today. She had planned on cooking our anniversary dinner.”

  “What’s she making? I smelled it coming in. Where is she?”

  “We tired of waiting and she left. The real reason for her visit was to discuss her divorce from Dad.”

  “Divorce? Oh, Babe.” He strode closer to the bed, reached out his hand, and dabbed the tear on her cheek.

  She rolled away from him and glared. “You rarely come home at night anymore. Are you leaving me too? I have to know.” She choked back tears.

  Why was he usually late? Work called. He loved her, but he often had to put her needs second to his career. The fear and pain in her fragile voice heaped more guilt on him. Damn! He had to find some way to stop hurting her. “Leaving you? Never. I love you. I’m sorry about last night. I have no excuse. I promise to do better.” Jonathon approached to comfort her and then hesitated. “Let me hold you.”

  Her body trembled as she sobbed.

  He crawled onto the bed and tried to pull her close to him. She resisted his touch. “Baby, please let me help you. I know you’re hurting.”

  She rolled over on the bed, trembling. He reached out for her and as their bodies met, she relaxed into his protective grasp. She wept for several minutes as he stroked her long hair.

  “I need you,” Angie finally whispered. “Tell me you wo
n’t leave me.”

  “I promise. How could I leave someone as sweet as you?” Jonathan whisked her hair away from her face. She relaxed her head against the pillows. He lay down next to her and placed a soft, wet kiss on her lips. “I will always love you. We’re not like your parents. One day we’ll celebrate our fiftieth anniversary, and we’ll be even more in love than we are now.”

  “How can I be sure you love me? You don’t ever seem to follow through on your promises. I don’t trust you.”

  His reply caught in his throat. She didn’t trust him? He had to correct that. No marriage survives mistrust. “It takes time to build trust. I’m guessing it takes even longer to rebuild trust once it’s lost. Can you give me some time? Let me show you I am trustworthy.”

  “I don’t know. Your choices exclude me. Is that love?”

  “My choices do include you. But perhaps you don’t understand what I am working toward.”

  “I grew up watching my parents grow farther and farther apart. My dad said and did cruel things to Mom. She found subtle ways to get back at him. They destroyed their marriage. I won’t live like that.”

  Jonathan peered into her childlike face. Why had she never told him about her home life before? What other secrets had she kept from him? What kind of childhood had she experienced? “Our marriage won’t ever be like your parents. I love you. You’ve got to believe me.” His chest tightened. “Please give me one more chance.”

  He pulled her close and kissed the tears from her cheeks. He wrapped his warmth around her like a blanket.

  Angie returned his kiss. “I want to trust you.”

  Tightness left Jonathan’s chest as he experienced her forgiveness. He would find a way to get back the girl he’d married. For the past few years, she’d often seemed sad, but he’d never asked her why. He didn’t know how to talk to her when she got in a funk. She’d blame him and then refuse to talk. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just trying to make a life for them, a life he thought they both wanted.