Watercolors Ch. 01

Thanks to my editors MistressPenelope and sexymommakat. As always any remaining errors are mine.

****

It was the day after they had celebrated their thirty-second wedding anniversary that he first yelled at her. It was the July 1, 1995. The children had left taking the grandkids with them. She had been tired and had asked him to help her clean up.

"I WORKED MY FINGERS TO THE BONE FOR OVER THIRTY YEARS FOR YOU. WHY CAN'T YOU CLEAN UP ONCE YOURSELF?"

Of course he had yelled at her before, just like she had yelled at him. What couple married thirty-two years hadn't had fights at the top of their lungs, maybe even with the neighbors listening?

This was a new yelling, like he was yelling to keep from hitting her. She looked at his face and saw a physical rage trying to escape. She felt a chill go through her body.

****

She had met Joe after a Mass at St. Bernadette's. It was 1961. He was just out of the Army and his frame was lanky from running around the Carolina hills as a member of the 82^nd Airborne carrying a rifle. She was nineteen and a secretary at a local realtor's office.

They dated two or three times in the four months he was looking for work. When he finally got a job at the capital with the State Treasurer's office, he began to ask her out more often. During the first year she knew him, he dated her, Millie O'Toole, and Kathy Granowski. Kathy had dropped him after two or three dates in favor of Jim Steiner, but Millie had hung on for most of a year.

She had realized that things were changing when she woke one Sunday morning after a date the previous night. She felt good. They had necked in the front seat of his 1956 Chevy for over half an hour.

They had shared five or six wet kisses when Joe slid his hand around her side and cupped her breast. In the past she had pushed his hand away after fifteen or twenty seconds. Last night she hadn't. After several more kisses, she felt him pop open the top button on her dress and push his fingers in to feel the smooth skin where the swelling began at the top of her chest.. When his hand moved lower, she thrilled as his fingers rubbed her nipple, the skin of his hand separated from her pink nub by only the thin cotton of her bra.

Suddenly her father had blinked the front porch light as a signal to come in. She buttoned up quickly. When had he undone that second button? Joe walked her to the door and pecked her chastely on the lips before she floated inside.

Now, lying in bed before the clock went off to get ready for Mass, she tingled between her legs remembering. She clasped her hands together and pushed them between her thighs. In high school health class Sister Francis had told them that it was a sin, but she must have meant letting a boy do it before marrying. She looked over at Martha, her sister, to see if she was asleep. Martha had her back turned so she rocked her hips back and forth gently against her hands.

She remembered his hand gently rubbing her breast and then it just popped into her head. He dated me last night!

That was obvious, but Millie had been out of town visiting relatives two weeks ago. Joe hadn't dated her since she came back. Was he getting serious? Had he picked her?

They had married eight months later and Joe, Jr. had come along just before their first anniversary. He had been followed by three others, two more boys and a girl. They had managed to space them out somewhat and after four, she had persuaded Joe that maybe the Church was wrong about contraception.

Overall, they had a good marriage. She had never strayed, although one New Year's Eve at the American Legion, Mike Smith had got his hand in her bra after too many drinks and several kisses in a dark hall. When he started to lift her skirt, she had regained her senses and fled back to Joe.

The fall and winter after Katy, the youngest, left for college were rough on Joe. He was frequently short with her and said even less at home than usual. He worked a lot of overtime at the office, although government employees, even managers like Joe, didn't usually do that. She was afraid he was having an affair, but she never pushed. Just before Katy came home for Spring Break, something changed and Joe was back to his usual self.

The years after that had been steady. Grandchildren came along and things seemed good. She had gone back to work as a secretary so they would have more money for travel while still saving for the golden years. Joe had retired two years ago. She had quit working soon after so they could go places that they had dreamed of.

Then he had yelled at her. Two days later the rage had vanished and Joe's sunny disposition was back.

The trip to Tahiti two months after the yelling was wonderful. Snorkeling over the reefs with the tropical fish was amazing. They cuddled most nights and Joe even gave her orgasms on two nights.

A prostate cancer operation three years earlier had left him impotent. She didn't mind so much. After thirty years of good sex, they had been slowing down even before the operation. He still liked to play with her nipples and once a month or so they would neck and he would put some KY between her legs and rub her to orgasm. She could tell he was frustrated by his condition, still having the desire but no ability. She really appreciated his efforts for her.

They were back from Tahiti a month when he yelled at her again. She had been at the monthly meeting of her circle at the church. She came in the door and hung up her sweater.

"Hi, honey. I'm back. Did you bring in the mail?"

"OF COURSE I BROUGHT IN THE MAIL. WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A JERK, A DODDERING OLD FOOL WHO CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN THE MAIL COMES?"

He took a step towards her. Again she saw the rage in his eyes. She darted through the kitchen to her studio and locked the door.

She looked at her paintings. In high school she had been voted Most Artistic, but marriage and life had pushed that interest to the back burner. After she began working again, she decided to take some classes at the local museum. After several years she started displaying some of her watercolors at local art fairs. When people started buying them, she began to do more.

After she quit her secretarial job, painting became a full time job. She discovered a distributor in San Jose who sold to interior decorators for office buildings and homes of the newly rich. She could sell three or four a month there. From Spring through Fall there were local art shows most weekends.

A friend of Joe's who was an accountant helped her set her sales up as a business with a separate checking account and a whole list of deductions. Altogether she made about $2000 per month from her paintings. A good month might net $3000; January and February might scrape up only $1200.

That evening she avoided Joe and worked on a painting. The Fall Fest in Monterey was coming up and she wanted to have a dozen paintings to display. Monterey at three hours driving would be an overnight trip. Usually Joe went with her when she stayed away. This time she didn't invite him and he didn't ask to come.

****

She was sitting in a folding chair in front of her display. The late October day was bright and sunny, but the breeze off the ocean made it chilly just to sit.

"Watercolors! I love a landscape in watercolors."

She looked up at a gentleman who was about her a few years older. "That's about all I do. Do you have many watercolors?" She rose to talk to a potential buyer.

"My wife started our collection about twenty years ago. I've probably got twelve or fifteen currently."

She looked around. "Is your wife with you today?"

"No. She died two years ago. This is the first show I've been to since then. I don't recognize these seascapes. Are they from up in Oregon or Washington?"

"I don't paint actual scenes. I sketch scenes and then in the studio I'll mix and match features from several views."

"Interesting. I like the way you've used the sunlight here to play off the rocks, but shadow the sand. One thing I like about watercolors is that they don't have sharp contrast between the areas of the painting. You've shown that here as gray, indistinct shadows, no bright lines."

They discussed almost every one of her paintings. He had a good critical eye and she felt good that he appreciated her work. After almost an hour he bought one of her smaller paintings. "I've really enjoyed looking at your work, Mrs. – "

"Jan Williams, Mrs. Jan Williams." She fumbled for a business card and handed it to him.

"Jan, I'm Ralph Petersen. Maybe I'll see you and your husband around." He pocketed the card and put the painting under his arm.

"Maybe me, but my husband didn't come this trip," she replied.

"Well, maybe you then," he rejoined as he walked off. But she didn't see him again. By the time she drove home Sunday, he was but a nice addition to her checking account.

****

She liked Thanksgiving. Her children came home. She got to see all her grandchildren. They got to see and know each other – a happy time.

She was in the kitchen on Wednesday night. Katy was helping her cook.

"That banana nut bread smells good. Can I have a piece?" Joe had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, you know we always keep that for breakfast tomorrow." She smiled at him.

"I don't know why I can't have a piece now. I've PAID for all this food. I OUGHT to be able to eat it when I WANT."

She saw that Katy was wide-eyed. She'd never heard her father talk like this. "The grandchildren will want it in the morning. There'll be plenty for everyone."

"I'm GOING to have some now!" He cut a piece that would normally be three or four slices and stomped out of the kitchen.

She looked at Katy. "He's been tired this week, maybe getting a cold. We'll just have to see that he gets more rest."

Thanksgiving Day was frosty, but by Christmas things had returned to normal.

On Valentine's Day, she cooked a special dinner. He had been out with retired friends from work all afternoon. When he got in she shooed him off to shower and change. When he came back she presented him with a glass of wine and invited him to the living room where she asked about his afternoon.

When they finished the wine, she led him into the dining room. "I fixed your favorite tonight, Beef Wellington."

He quietly cut into the meat and took a small bite. "This tastes like CRAP! It's undercooked and I bet you got old meat. It smells like it's spoiled." He ranted and raved for another five minutes before she fled the room in tears.

After that it was like walking on eggshells. She didn't know when he would get angry. Maybe twice in one week and then not for two or three weeks. She couldn't tell what would set off the tirades or yelling.

In late March he approached her. "I thought maybe we'd go to Japan this year. I see there's a nice package available in late June."

"I'm not so sure I feel like a long vacation this year. Maybe we could just plan some short trips." With his unpredictability, she wasn't sure she wanted to be trapped in small hotel rooms with him for two or three weeks straight.

"Do you have someplace else you want to go?"

"No, let's just stay close to home this year."

****

The Carmel Art Festival in late May was the first weekend of the year when she would be staying overnight. She didn't invite Joe to come along.

"Hey, you're here."

She looked up from her chair in front of her paintings. Unfortunately, the person speaking was silhouetted by the late afternoon sun. She stood up. "I've been here every year for the last four," she replied.

She took three steps to one side and turned. It was the guy from last fall. What was his name? "Is it Ray, no Ralph isn't it? I'm sorry; I don't remember your last name."

"Ralph Petersen." He stuck out his hand. She shook it. "Show me your new paintings."

They discussed her paintings for the next half hour. "Oh, look at the time. It's almost seven. I'm hungry, and I want to continue this conversation. Would you and your husband join me for dinner?"

"He's not here. Maybe I shouldn't."

"Oh, nonsense. At our age, this is perfectly innocent. I probably have forgotten how to do anything that's not innocent. Even if I haven't forgotten, I'm not sure I could do it anymore anyway."

"Well – "

"Come on. I like your paintings. Maybe you can sell me another one."

So thirty minutes later he was pouring more wine into her glass while she finished off the last stuffed mushroom. They had talked about her paintings, but that had died off. She was trying to think of some new topic when he spoke. "How far away are you from here that you stay overnight?"

"We live in Sacramento. It takes me about three hours to drive here, plus I have to set up and break down. This is one of the shows where I stay overnight."

"Do you do a lot of shows?"

"From April through October I could probably do one every weekend. I fit my attendance to the more popular ones and then factor in our vacations and other trips. I probably end up doing eighteen or twenty each year."

"But you like to do the ones around Monterey?"

"Being on the coast I can get out in the morning and evening to sketch a little. Sacramento isn't the most stimulating place for the type of painting I do. For the same reason, I do the show at Placerville each year for the mountain views. I stay overnight just for the sketching opportunity there although I could easily commute. Do you go to a lot of shows?"

"When Kay was still alive, we tried to go to one a month during the season. We probably averaged four or five a year. We tried to spread them around the state and maybe throw in one up in Oregon or Washington each year. We both grew up in small towns, so we liked to get out and see different towns and areas. And the tourist attractions in each town, like the Aquarium here. If we were near something like that in Oregon, we'd go see it. Have you ever visited the Aquarium?

"A long time ago with the kids, but I haven't seen it recently."

"Your husband doesn't like to travel with you?"

Even though it had been more than thirty-five years, she immediately recognized that she was going to be hit on. "He used to, but he hasn't been feeling well since last summer, more irritable than he used to be."

Surprisingly, the topic of conversation changed and they swapped personal history stories during dinner and dessert. She saw the waitress put down the check and she saw him reach for it.

"How much do I owe you?" She reached for her pocketbook to pull her Visa.

"No, I'll take care of it. I asked you and you given me delightful company for more than two hours."

Had it been that long? She glanced at her watch. The time had gone faster than any evening in recent memory. "No, let me pay for mine."

"No, I insist. It's been awhile since I've had the pleasure of the company of a beautiful woman."

She let it drop as he passed a credit card to the waitress. They talked about the delicious food again until the waitress returned and everything was settled.

"Can I drop you somewhere?"

"No, I've got my car at the lot down the street and I'm staying outside of town."

"What about you," she asked. "Are you staying overnight?"

"No, I live right up the road in Santa Cruz, maybe an hour's drive, so I'll be home tonight."

He insisted on walking her back to her car. When they got there, she opened her door and turned to him. "Thanks again for the dinner."

"The pleasure of your company was all mine."

On an impulse she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. "Good night." She climbed into the driver's seat of her minivan. He stood watching until she drove away.

She half-expected him to show up on Sunday, and when he didn't she was disappointed. "What was I expecting anyway?" She was conducting one of those out-loud conversations with herself. "He is just a nice gentleman who knows about watercolors."

****

On Wednesday morning she went to the grocery store for her weekly shopping. There were a lot of specials that she had the coupons for, so she spent a longer time than usual. She didn't get back home until after one o'clock.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I HAVEN'T HAD MY LUNCH YET."

"You could have fixed a sandwich. You didn't have to wait for me," she replied as she put down the first bag of groceries. "Can you help me bring in the rest of the groceries?"

"YOU GOT THEM TO THE CAR YOURSELF; WHY CAN'T YOU GET THEM IN THE HOUSE YOURSELF? I should have picked Millie. She could do more for herself and she was hotter in the sack, too."

She was hurt and decided to strike back. "Well, you weren't so hot yourself back in the Sixties. I think we've both learned a lot since then."

"I'm not talking about the Sixties. Back in '86 she looked me up when she was getting a divorce. She knew a lot of things that you never learned."

"Like what?" She knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as it left her lips.

"Like blowjobs. You've never done that. Let me tell you, Mille was a master and she never acted like it was dirty either. Too bad for me that she moved to Phoenix as soon as she dumped that jerk."

She ran past him to her studio. The groceries sat for several hours.

On Friday Joe had gone to the monthly luncheon of State retirees. The phone rang and she answered it. "Hello."

"Jan, this is Ralph, from your show at Carmel. Have you got a few minutes?"

"Hi, Ralph. Sure, I'm not doing anything right now. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you would like to go to the Monterey Aquarium. You remember you said you hadn't been there in a long time. It's been fixed up and expanded since then. If you could drive over one morning, we could go there for the afternoon and maybe have an early dinner before you head back."

"Well, I don't know, Ralph." She was surprised to hear from Ralph. She had thought he might make a pass at her after dinner. When that didn't happen, she had completely forgotten any response she might have made.

"It can just be for the day. I would love to show you the Aquarium and I'd get to talk to you some more."

"Look, I may need to arrange things here. When were you thinking about doing this?"

"I thought some day next week, if you're free."

How free do I want to be? "Wednesday would probably be a good day, but I'll need to call you back, say Monday, to confirm."

"I understand. Have you got a pencil? I'll give you my number."

So I'm thinking about going on a date with another man. She was trying to decide what to do after Ralph had hung up. It's just during the day. For God's sake it's just walking around an aquarium for a few hours. Not like he's taking me to Las Vegas for a week.

At dinner she broached the subject. "Honey, one of the artists I met in Carmel has invited me back to see the town, maybe do some shopping. It might be an overnight trip. I'd probably stay with her. Would you mind?"

"Just be sure my meals are taken care of."

"I'll see that you're taken care of."

****

Wednesday morning found her on the road to Monterey. She had packed an overnight bag, but she wanted to get there in time to check into a motel before her meeting. She wouldn't tell Ralph, but she hated driving alone at night. She'd leave as if she were driving back and just wait until in the morning.

They met about noon. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, you?"

"No," he replied. He took her to a little sandwich shop.

They had a delightful afternoon. Seeing the manta rays gliding through the water always thrilled her. The sharks didn't do anything for her, but the brightly colored tropical reef fish were just what she remembered from Tahiti.

They paused mid-afternoon and had soft drinks. Her lemonade set off a wave of reminiscences from their childhoods.