A Painted Summer

"Is everything okay?"

Well. That was weird. She swallowed. "Yes. Thank you."

"Okay. See you later."

Michael grew up in California. He flew home to see his family, and to get inspiration for his artwork. It was his only passion in life. He rented a space in a local art studio and was often sending fresh work to the studio. The break gave him a chance to regroup and decide what direction to go in next with his art.

The two weeks went by fast. He flew home the day before he had to go back to work.

He got in at the usual time and was surprised that he didn't see her silver SUV in the parking lot. She never called out. That was weird.

Suddenly Michael knew something was wrong. That woman never took a day off without telling him first. He went up to the office quickly and went over to her cubicle. With a sinking heart, Michael saw that it was empty. Sara had never decorated her cubicle with personal items. But she used to have sticky notes all over the place. They were all gone.

"Hi, you must be Michael. I'm Janie, your new assistant." Michael turned and saw that a young blonde girl was talking to him. He disliked her immediately.

Instead of addressing her, he turned and went over to Dennis's office. Dennis was going through some paperwork. "Oh, hi Michael. How was vacation?"

"Where is Sara?"

"Ah." Dennis put the papers down. "She retired."

"What? That's impossible. She's like 40 or something." Michael spat out.

Dennis adjusted his glasses. "She put in her 2 weeks notice two Fridays ago. She just said it was time for her to retire."

"And that's it? You didn't even call me about this?"

"There is nothing you could have done. We offered her more money and a better work schedule but she declined."

Michael didn't really know what to say, so he turned and went to his office. He still had her resume on file. It had her address. He took the paper, strode out of his office and got in his car.

"These blackberry pancakes are amazing." Sara said to her daughter, who beamed.

"If you squish the berries up really hard, you can strain out the annoying seeds and it will make the batter purple. Then you will have purple pancakes. It looks kind of cool." The young girl said, pouring some juice in a glass. "The finishing touch, of course, is a little bit of cream cheese frosting, and crème de menthe glacé."

Suddenly they heard the doorbell ring.

"Who could that be?" Sara's daughter put the juice down and went to the door.

Michael was greeted by a blonde haired, blue eyed young woman. It caught him completely off guard. "Oh, sorry, I must have the wrong house." He said. The girl started to close the door, and he looked at the house number. This was 463.

"Wait - is your mom home?" He asked her.

The girl gave him a funny look, then closed the door partially. "Mom, some guy is outside looking for you."

He heard Sara's voice. She pulled open the door and saw Michael standing there.

"Oh, hi..." She said, trailing off. He had his nice work clothes on.

"You have a daughter?" He asked.

"Yes, I do." She motioned for him to come in. The space was not that big, but it had high ceilings, tasteful decorations, neutral colors, and was clean. They went into the kitchen.

"Alice, this is-this was my boss, Michael."

The girl looked him over. "Hello."

Michael felt uncomfortable. The girl was obviously wondering what he was doing there. "Hi."

They went outside and Sara shut the patio door from her daughter's prying ears. She sat down on the loveseat outside while he stood across from her.

"You named your daughter Alice?" He asked. He thought about the painting she bought.

"Yeah."

"She looks nothing like you." He said.

"I know. She fits her name well."

He sat down in a chair across from her. "Why did you leave when I was on vacation?"

So I could avoid this conversation, Sara felt like saying. She sighed. "Look, it's just time for me to move on. I want to be home."

"Dennis said they would have changed your schedule. Are you going to a competitor?"

"No. Look, I wanted to retire. I spent years investing in funds and putting money away in various accounts. I want to enjoy my life."

Michael wasn't buying it. He seemed angry. "I know you loved your job, Sara. And this is bullshit right here."

It was true. She did love her job. Michael could see her resolve waver. She felt her eyes start to fill with tears and tried to keep her voice steady. "Look, I'm not well."

He suddenly got a terrible gut feeling. This would be bad. He got up and sat next to her.

"I......I have breast cancer." Tears spilled out. "I'm supposed to start radiation soon and have lots of appointments that will basically destroy it, and maybe my body, in the process. And.....I just want a summer to myself. Every year I say I'm going to enjoy my summer and I always end up working way more than I really wanted to. So this summer I want to be home. I want to enjoy the sunrises and the sunsets. I want to swim, and travel, and cook, and wear nice summer dresses and just live in the moment." Her voice broke with emotion. "Because I don't know if I will be here for the next one."

Michael swallowed hard. It was tough news. He suddenly felt terrible for barging into her home like this. "Sara, I'm so sorry." He said, with feeling. He reached out and hugged her. She felt so delicate.

"I am, too. You're right, I loved my job. I'm sorry I can't give you more of my time. You are a tough boss, but you inspired me to push myself and be the best that I can be and for that I can thank you."

She had to stop talking soon or he was going to start crying, too. He held her for a minute, then had an idea. "Look, I'm an artist. I can paint you."

She seemed confused. "Like a portrait?"

"Yeah, but we can do different poses and different backgrounds." He started envisioning different scenes.

Sara shrugged. "Michael, I'm not that great looking. I don't think-"

"It's not about how you see yourself physically. It's about how you are feeling. I can bring that to life."

She sighed. "I guess I'll think about it."

"Think about it for a few days and get back to me. We can start this Saturday."

"Um, okay."

He went to get up, then turned to her. "Sara, I am so sorry about the news. I have to get back to the office, but text me when you decide. I'm a good artist. I won't disappoint you. It will be good."

That Saturday she pulled up to Michael's house. It was a fairly large home located about 20 minutes away from her, with stucco walls and terra cotta detail on the outside. She parked, grabbed her stuff and went to the door.

She really didn't know what to expect. Would he bark orders at her? Would they even talk?

A moment later the door opened, and Michael grabbed the cooler and led her inside.

Sara had to take a moment to absorb the surroundings. There was artwork everywhere. Beautiful pictures hung on all of the walls. There was some free-form, impressionist, pop art, landscape - he could do it all.

"It's like a museum in here!" She gasped.

"Yeah, a personal museum. It's nice to be surrounded by the pieces I worked so hard on." He said, showing her to the kitchen in the back.

The back of the house had a set of large glass doors and windows across the back, offering a panoramic, unobstructed view of the sparse vegetation nearby, and the mountains in the distance.

"Your home is magnificent." Sara said. There was no better way to put it.

"Thank you." Michael put the cooler down. "Shall we start?"

They decided to do a trade. She would help teach him how to cook, and he would paint (hopefully) amazing pictures of her. Sara was really nervous, but decided she had nothing to lose. If he yelled at her, she would just leave and that would be the end of that. They decided to have an early dinner, then do the artwork after. Michael wanted to do the picture at sunset when the lighting would be the softest.

"What did you decide to make?"

She pulled some premium steaks out of her cooler. "Filet Mignon with a Hollandaise Sauce and seasoned asparagus with baby potatoes. Something easy."

"Filet Mignon, huh?" He said, sighing and grabbing an apron.

"Um, you said I could pick anything I wanted. Do you have a problem with steak?"

"No......." Michael smiled as he looked down, opening a bottle of merlot. "Except for the time my grill caught on fire."

She burst out laughing. "Are you serious? What happened?"

He poured two glasses. "I was cooking dinner. Then I got interrupted with an agent who needed a quote ASAP. Next thing I know, my patio was smoking."

She laughed. "Okay, well I'm awesome at cooking meats so I'll handle that part."

The wine helped a lot with her nerves. Sara was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. Soon they were sitting down with their meal. Sara was pleased that it came out as well as it did.

They cleaned up, and Sara started getting nervous again. She didn't know what to expect.

"Did you bring something neutral to wear?" Michael asked.

"Oh yeah, I brought a few things actually. I was hoping to get your input."

They went into the living room where she left her purse and a large bag. She pulled out a few articles of clothing.

"I have this silk shirt, or a creme camisole, and-"

Michael held up a cotton sweater wrap. "Wear this."

"Um, just that?"

"Yeah. It's a nice material. It will cling to you nicely."

Sara was secretly wondering if she was being duped. "But it's a sweater."

He looked at it. "No, it's a robe. Look we don't have a lot of time. Just trust me."

She went into the bathroom to change. Then she came out. "Okay, so-"

"Wait, you still have your bra on." Michael noticed.

"Uh, yeah..."

"You have to take it off."

She started getting really nervous. "I don't know about this."

"Sara, I know what the female anatomy looks like." He said, slightly exasperated. "I can't work with you if you can't work with me."

She sighed. "Okay, give me a minute."

When she came out of the bathroom again, he was nowhere to be found. She cautiously went out towards the kitchen. She saw him setting up on the patio outside. There was a large easel, canvas, and a table with various oils and brushes.

"Come here." He said, still setting up.

She walked over and he looked her over. "Very nice." He said casually, looking her over quickly. Then he pulled her ponytail elastic out.

She didn't know what to think. She had never been so close to him - or anyone - in years and his closeness was almost overwhelming. Her thick dark hair instantly surrounded her face.

"That's better." He said, brushing her hair aside. She closed her eyes for a second, then realized he was staring at her intently.

"Um." She tried to get his focus off of reading her emotions by distracting him with her voice. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Hold on."

In quick motions, he pulled the side of the sweater (robe) back, showing a little more of her chest, and grabbed a brush and painted a small stroke on her skin.

The paint felt cool on her skin and his fingertips felt hot. Sara gasped. "What are you doing?"

He grabbed another color and did another stroke right next to the first. "I need to find your color." He studied the strokes. "I think I have it." Then he grabbed a small sponge, dipped it in a solution sitting in a bowl, and carefully wiped the paints off of her skin. The whole experience was new and felt almost erotic to Sara. She was suddenly aware of exactly how close he was to her. He wore jeans and a black t-shirt that showed off his biceps. Sara realized he must work out to have such defined muscles. His dark brown eyes were studying her skin intently, making sure the paint was gone. She couldn't help staring at his thick lips and wondered what it would be like to press her lips against his. They looked soft. She had never been intimate with a black man. She had to resist the urge to touch his face. It hot outside but she felt a shiver throughout her body. She felt her nipples harden slightly and prayed that he wouldn't notice them through the thin fabric.

"Okay. So I think for the first one you should just sit here on the patio steps and look out at the plains ahead. I'll do a profile of you looking out. It will be easy. All you have to do is look straight ahead. I'm not going to catch much emotion on this one but that's how I want this to start."

She sat down on the warm brick steps and looked out. He walked over and tousled her hair so that it cascaded down her back. Then he got to work.

The sun was just starting to go down. Sara thought it might be boring to just sit there, but it was nice to just watch the hues slowly change, undisturbed.

At one point she looked over when she saw him move suddenly.

"Are you taking pictures of me?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Sara how long is a sunset?"

She wasn't sure. "I guess it depends."

"Yeah. Well I'm good, but I can't paint that fast. I'm going to do the primary outlines and sketching now and fill in the rest later." He paused with the camera. "You really need to let me be in charge of this. I know you like to be in control of everything."

Despite the seriousness of their project, she laughed. "What? No I don't."

"Perfect example - when you took over my agency visit last December." He went back to the canvas and picked up a paintbrush.

Maybe she did like to be in charge sometimes. "I helped you save that account." She muttered. She turned her attention back to the mountains ahead, which were starting to lose their radiant color to the approaching night.

Before long, she could see small stars start to twinkle in the fading sunset. Crickets started chirping nearby.

"It's getting dark. Did you get what you needed?" She asked.

"I think so." He said. "You can get up."

She walked over to the canvas and was disappointed to see mostly outlines, and only a few colors so far.

"Go in and get changed." He said. "I'll help you bring your stuff to your car."

A small part of Sara felt sad. She was kind of having fun with Michael. She didn't want to do anything to bother him though.

He put her bags in the backseat, then held open the door as she got in. "I'll send you a picture of the finished piece. Maybe we can do another one next weekend."

"Okay. Thanks. Have a good night."

He smiled and shut the door. Sara felt a little disappointed that she didn't get a hug. She tried to shake it off, and went home.

The next morning she woke up. She still felt a little tired, so she laid in bed and thought about the night before. Then she picked up her phone and saw that she had gotten a text from Michael around 2am.

It was the painting. He must have worked on it all night. She was sitting off to the left, looking out at the nearly barren plains. The mountains in the background rose up majestically and kissed the hazy golden clouds overhead. Her dark hair contrasted nicely against the white outfit she had on. He put subtle red highlights in her hair that seemed to match the reds that streaked across the sky.

"Wow." She said aloud. She was going to text him, then realized he must be sleeping. She decided to wait til lunchtime before texting back. She got up, showered off and went downstairs.

The day before, her daughter had gone to the local home improvement store and bought supplies for growing herbs in a small garden.

"I have no luck with plants, just so you know." Sara told Alice as she added fresh soil to a planter.

"I just need you to help me set it up." The young girl said. "I'll handle the rest. So how did it go last night?"

"Oh, yeah it was fun." Sara said. She had mentioned that Michael wanted to use her in some of his art.

"Did he complete the painting?" Alice asked.

Sara grabbed her phone and showed her. "Wow, that's you!"

"Yeah, it was-" Sara realized Michael had just texted her.

"What do you think?" The text read.

She texted back. "Amazing."

"Good. Same time next Saturday. I have another idea."

He didn't ask her to bring any specific clothing items which she wondered about, then shrugged it off. She pulled up to his home and grabbed her cooler. He opened the door, wearing a white t-shirt that contrasted beautifully against his rich chocolate skin. Sara realized she was really looking forward to this evening.

She started unpacking the contents of the cooler. "I thought we could do an Asian-chicken salad with sesame seeds, soba noodles and a tangy orange dressing."

"That sounds great. But I think we should have a snack first, then paint, and then do dinner after." He said, getting out a plate from the fridge. She was pleased to see an array of different crackers and cheeses lined up.

"Oh, wow, that looks good." She said.

"Yeah, let's sit down for a bit."

She put her food away as he added a few extra touches to the charcuterie board, including some dried fruits, black olives, and sun dried tomatoes. He also put out a creamy veggie dip. They sat down in the living room, full glasses of wine, and enjoyed the snack he put together for them.

"This is amazing. Did you come up with this yourself?" She asked, eating an olive.

"I may have turned to the internet for help." He said, grabbing a cracker and cheese.

Sara asked how his new assistant was working out. "She's not as good as you, that's for sure. I keep hoping she quits."

She laughed. "Is she that bad?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"I'm sorry." She said.

"Why did you quit when I was on vacation?" He wanted to know.

She took a big sip of wine and thought about how to answer, biting her lip for a second. His gaze was intense. "I was nervous about approaching you. I didn't want to have to explain myself......and, I don't think you would have accepted that." She thought about how he drove to her house that morning. "Actually you didn't accept that. But I didn't think you would come to my house."

"Well, I am sorry, again. I was mad at you for what you pulled. You're a really good worker. The best. I have a lot of respect for you. I just wanted to know why you left."

His words touched her. He was quiet for a minute, chewing on a dried apricot and looking out at the glorious mountains outside.

Finally she said tentatively, "Thanks for doing this. I was nervous about how this was going to go. But being a model is actually a lot of fun. And your work is unparalleled."

"Yes, so about tonight. I was thinking of doing a semi-nude scene, if you are okay with that."

She was not really okay with that. "Um, what?"

"I think we should do this upstairs. I have a walk in shower upstairs. I want to do a portrait of you in the shower, looking up with your arms raised. Sort of like being washed, or purified."

"I don't know...." She trailed off.

"Look, I won't take any photos this time since the overall background will be static. You can leave your underwear on if you like."

She thought of something. "But how will they dry?"

He hadn't thought that through. "I'll throw them in the dryer after. You can wear a towel for 15 minutes while it dries."

She started to object but he cut her off. "This isn't pornography for me, Sara. I didn't want to come out and say this, but I want to help you celebrate your body. I want you to see the beauty in it."

She could see his point. She was going to start radiation in three months. Then her beautiful hair would be taken from her. She was going to be tired, and drained, and if the treatment didn't work, she was going to have to have a mastectomy. They would have to remove part of her body from her. She hated thinking about it.

Michael was right. She wanted to celebrate her life this summer. She wanted to live her life to the fullest capacity she could experience. True she was middle aged. But her body was still beautiful. She knew he could bring that out in his portraits.