Truth - Romig Aleatha - Страница 52
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Finishing off her glass of wine, Claire read the clock, 9:07. Where is Harry? The room wobbled slightly. Her head felt light with wine and lack of food. She left the research on the bed and went toward the kitchen. On the shiny granite countertop, her iPhone sat all alone. Claire reached for the devise and pushed buttons. Immediately the icon for missed calls appeared with the number two. As she changed the screen to see the numbers, she saw a text from Harry:
IM SO SORRY. IM ON HAMILTON AVENUE. ACCIDENT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. IM FINE BUT STAYING WITH VICTIM UNTIL POLICE AND PARAMEDICS ARRIVE.
She immediately called his number; it went to voice mail. Claire hung up and called again. She felt an unwelcome tightening in her chest as she ran for the door. Hamilton was just a block or two away. She could be there in minutes if she walked fast, sooner if she ran. The phone rang as she threw open the door to her condominium. If she hadn’t looked up, she would have run right into him.
*****
Derek quietly entered their dark condominium. Coming home much later than he’d planned, he placed his keys on the small table in the foyer and gazed down the dark hallway. Seeping from around the door to Sophia’s new studio he saw golden beams of light. He slipped off his shoes and walked soundlessly toward the glow. With each step his anticipation mounted, would he finally find his wife drawing or painting? She’d been on the West Coast for almost two weeks and hadn’t so much as touched a sketch pad. With each step he realized, more than anything, Derek wanted to see his wife lost in her world of creativity.
Of course, over the past fourteen days she’d given every excuse for avoiding her new studio; adjusting to the time change, getting to know the neighbors, learning her way around Silicon Valley – all valid, especially his favorite, getting to know people at his work. When Derek worked in Boston and Sophia spent her days and nights on the Cape, she rarely interacted with his fellow workers. He often wondered if it were proximity or personality. It was no secret, they lived in different worlds. Nonetheless, her lack of daily interaction didn’t hinder her presence at social functions, where she mingled beautifully, being her gregarious self.
Derek often felt a twinge of pride when coworkers noticed his lovely wife. Some of the Boston associates even commented about Derek’s perfect life, a gorgeous wife patiently waiting miles away, leaving his days free to explore what Boston had to offer. Derek didn’t agree. He had more woman in Sophia than he’d ever dreamt; exploring wasn’t on his radar.
Truthfully, it wasn’t just Sophia’s looks, although he approved; it was her uncensored zest for life – her ability to see the world in a way he never would. As Derek anticipated her arrival to their new Santa Clara home, he readied himself for a whirlwind of excitement.
It never happened.
From the moment Sophia stepped into his new office, he noticed the difference. Her beauty never wavered, yet her spark and drive did. The spark which drew him to her, like a moth to a flame, was gone. In the past two weeks, she’s unpacked their condo, shopped, made regular appearances at his office, attended a few business dinners, and waited patiently for his return home. Derek wondered if he’d unknowingly married a Stepford wife.
He longed for the woman he’d left on the Cape, the woman who would paint all night, crawl into bed before his alarm, nuzzle close, and pout when he finally pulled away from their early morning encounter. She filled his fantasies. Yet, of all the sudden changes, Sophia’s lack of art bothered Derek most. She’d made no attempt to organize her new home studio. Even after Derek ordered her a new desk and some of the basics, she’d done nothing to make it hers. Now, as Derek slipped down the bleached wooden planks, toward the light and resonating soft jazz music, his anticipation grew.
He read his watch: 11:27. His meeting turned to dinner, into more discussion and into more drinks. It wasn’t the first time since Sophia’s arrival he’d disappointed her by not coming home at a decent hour.
Leaning around the slightly ajar door, Derek peered into the light at the end of the dark tunnel. His chest filled with love, seeing Sophia’s long blonde hair secured by a big clip and the deep swoop of her nightgown. She was turned the other direction, sitting cross legged on the floor, with her sketch pad on top of an unpacked box. Her hand moved urgently as the charcoal brushed the surface of the linen tablet. He saw his wife’s slender neck all the way down to the middle of her back. Though the room was still in disarray, he noticed a few new bags of art supplies.
Derek fought the desire to break his wife’s trance. He realized the woman before him, on the floor with darkened fingertips and bare feet was the love of his life. And watching her in this state, almost drugged by her own creative muse, was Derek’s favorite aphrodisiac. The scent of her perfume mixed with charcoal filled his senses. Gripping the door jamb, Derek stopped his impulse to nuzzle her sexy exposed neck.
They had a beautiful king sized bed, in a large suite with a magnificent view on the other side of the condo. However, as Derek stood watching, he fantasized about taking his wife right there, right now on the wooden floor. Closing his eyes Derek thought about Sophia’s gaze, as they made love. He imagined her stunning gray eyes clouded with a blue haze as their passion ignited. Sadly, Derek realized, he hadn’t seen those blue clouds since New England.
That realization, combined with the woeful reverberation of saxophone music prompted him to turn silently toward the hallway. He couldn’t disturb her, not for his own desires. Seeing her in her state of euphoria was enough. He eased his way to their room and climbed into their large empty bed. Derek’s only solace, as he drifted off to sleep, was that Sophia was once again drawing.
The linen page filled with different shades of black and gray. Sophia bought colored chalk at the supply store, but charcoal seemed more appropriate. She wasn’t sure what propelled her to the art supplies store in Palo Alto. Perhaps it was her desire to see the numerous art studios in that area boasting wonderful exhibits. After all she’d received a postcard inviting her to one of the exhibits. It wasn’t really to her. It was one of those promotional mailings, but it intrigued her. While perusing the displays, she felt the familiar desire to create. It was so overpowering she couldn’t resist any longer.
It wasn’t that she’d been resisting. It was more like she’d put it away – somewhere. Since coming to California there were more important things to do. She needed to be Mrs. Derek Burke. No, she wanted to be. However, with each passing day, Sophia questioned if she wanted to be Mrs. Derek Burke for her or for him. As an executive in a large and upcoming company, didn’t he deserve that? The pretense was draining. Sophia constantly argued with herself... if she wanted to be what Derek wanted, than why did she feel so unhappy?
While in an art studio on Hamilton Avenue in Palo Alto the curator approached, and they began talking. They discussed the displayed pieces and debated the use of mediums and color. With time Sophia revealed she too was an artist and mentioned her studio in Provincetown and exhibitions in Europe.
The gentleman asked to see her portfolio. It was at that moment Sophia realized it was still in Massachusetts. That realization struck her with unseen force. Her portfolio – her life in synopsis – was back on the Cape. She’d left her life to be with Derek.
Some of her better works were accessible through her website. She typed in the address and showed Mr. George her art. He appeared more than impressed.
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