Andrea Donovan Pt. 02

The old Chevy I was driving now also didn't have a Check Engine light -- it either ran or it didn't. In the event that it wouldn't run, a person could troubleshoot the engine in a matter of minutes, repair it for mere pennies and have it running again in little or no time. ...You weren't going to go anywhere very fast with one of these little six cylinder engines and I really wouldn't want to drive the forty seven year old Chevy all the way to Texas, but then again, when nothing else wanted to start and run or was constantly plagued with Engine codes flashing on the dashboard -- a person could still jump in the old raggedy Chevy and the little six cylinder would always fire-up, and away you'd go.

...I pulled into a Subway now and shut the engine off.

Fifteen minutes later I sat down with a delicious roast beef sandwich and bottled orange juice as I contentedly watched the world passing me by through the large fronted windows before me. Looking at my phone now, as I ate, I saw that the temperature in Casa Grande was currently sixty eight degrees Fahrenheit, scrolling upward, I saw that it was twenty nine in Anchorage "Oh, please" I mumbled sarcastically and shaking my head "I don't think so." ...I loved Alaska's summers but hated the horrible winters there, I always had. I finished my sandwich and contemplated texting Andrea ...no I thought, let her and Duffy have fun, that way Andrea will have a lot to say when she gets home, it'll be show and tell time for her then. I got up from the table then and threw my trash into the waste bin and headed out to the green Chevy.

Arriving home, I quickly dressed into my coveralls and then, stepping out into the front yard from the garage, began surveying my mess. ...I had pieces of rusty three inch pipe scattered everywhere in a hap-hazard trail leading from the stables, through the front yard and up along the driveway, then leading northward and proceeding beyond the house out of sight and ever onward to an endless infinitive, it seemed. The countless pieces of pipe now looked as though a drunken sailor had gleefully cast them about during the previous night's debauchery, undoubtedly while singing an Irish ballad of sailing ships and soiled doves as he had merrily gone about his work, fueled by liberal amounts of alcohol and an energetically induced sudden flash of divine inspiration and logic, known only to him, with no rhyme or reason forthcoming now that the sun had risen once again -- to him or to anyone else.

Wolfie silently came into the yard now and jumped up onto the warm hood of the Chevy, beside me.

"...(sigh)... Looks like one mell of a hess, doesn't it, partner?" I asked looking at the seated cat and shaking my head at all of the work cut-out for me in the yard now.

I really didn't feel like welding pipe for the coral today, I had a pretty good start with about thirty feet of the coral existing so far, this portion was proudly standing on the east side of the stables, which were themselves unfinished. ...I really didn't feel like digging fence post holes again today either, only about a hundred more of those left to do, I now thought with a half frown. I finally managed to get myself motivated and sat on the fold-up chair at my little make-shift work table which I had erected in the front yard and began thinking as I picked up my soapstone.

"Andrea's always wanted a little Gingerbread house, Wolfie, so that's what we're going to create for her, buddy" I said to the cat as I began to start outlining with the soapstone. Now I suddenly became very motivated.

Wolfie seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing and watched me intently, almost as if he were trying to learn a new skill now himself. I actually enjoyed having his company and would quietly explain to him some of the things that "we" were doing now ...exactly the way Grandfather had explained them to me -- ah fuck, I suddenly stopped momentarily, as a wave of emotion quickly washed over me and was gone. Periodically, since losing Mom, I would still get these types of sharp little emotional pangs from time to time, this was a normal part of the grieving process, Andrea and Duffy had explained to me. ...It still sucked.

"Be alright when Ricky and Brenda get here" I mumbled.

...Andrea and I had already agreed that our hobby ranch would officially be known as the "Gingerbread Ranch" and that our "Brand" would be "GR." Andrea had then asked me to create a specific "Brand insignia" for our new home which I began doing now for the large archway which would be placed over the driveway. I began by creating the silhouettes of two large Gingerbread people, hand in hand with one smaller than the other, at the archways very top. Each Gingerbread person also had the side profile of a horse, facing toward them. I made the profiles intentionally large because the archway was intended to be placed high in the air and also because I could incorporate more detail within the metal work with less of the monotonous labor involved. Glancing up at Wolfie, I suddenly decided to incorporate the side profiles of a dog and cat on each lower portion of the archway also. ...Standing back now and looking at the "GR" brand, within the oval and below the horses and Gingerbread couple, I suddenly decided to put the "G" on its back -- this was cowboy script, implying that the "G" was lazy. Since the Gingerbread Ranch was intended to be our snowbird-palace, I felt this was very appropriate. The "R" within the oval would remain vertical.

Our ranch would thus become known as "The Lazy-G Ranch"

Within a few hours I had completed my initial design in soapstone and a rough outline of the archway now lay before me on my work table, the archway having been cut out from quarter inch steel with an acetylene torch. I then began working on some of the scrollwork which I had envisioned for the piece when suddenly Duffy's little yellow beetle drove into the driveway, at a rather fast clip and leaving a trail of dust behind it. I instinctively sensed that something was wrong and immediately shut-off the flow of acetylene and oxygen to my torch. Standing now and removing my leather gloves, I quickly walked over to the car as the two ladies got out. There were no greeting or formalities as Andrea quickly walked toward me at a fast pace, an icepack taped to her arm and Duffy right behind her. Andrea swiftly came into my arms, the icepack cold against my own arm.

"Baby, what's wrong, what happened are you OK?" I asked, looking at Andrea's arm and then peering at Duffy, over Andrea's head.

" -- Vic's OK, he just came out of surgery a few minutes ago, he's in I.C.U. now. Two officers were shot while serving a warrant this morning, one was Vic, the other officer's OK too" Andrea blurted out all at once.

"...Bob, Gail, and Connie are they OK, what about Angela?" I asked quietly as Andrea shook in my arms.

"YEAH RIGHT! Angela's in jail - again. One of Vic's friends picked her up last week, on her fourth one, now. Oh, and she has assaulting a police officer on her résumé now too. Really looks good to your fellow officers when your ol' lady goes in and out of jail through a revolving door, doesn't it? Real supportive to Vic, too ...sorry, -- Bob and Gail are shaken up but their OK, Connie's holding her own. ...Too bad Vic doesn't have a WIFE to support him now" Andrea replied bitterly with a mix of tears and anger.

I knew she was referring to Angela's fourth D.U.I. -- there probably should have been a hundred others.

"OK, I'll get some plane tickets and we-" I started to say

"- Bob and Gail don't WANT ANY visitors right now, Tim!" Andrea snapped at me.

"...Alright ...honey - what happened here?" I asked quietly, indicating Andrea's arm.

"One of the nags that I took her to go see today, nipped her" Duffy suddenly said, ashamed and looking as if she were the one to blame and now on the verge of tears herself.

I motioned Duffy to come close for a three-way hug as Andrea and I both assured her that it wasn't, in anyway, her fault that the horse had nipped Andrea. For a few moments I just held the two ladies as each of them shed a few tears. Mostly, I think, the tears were a mix of fear, relief and also frustration.

"I'll help you get rid of all this pipe and shit I don't want another horse, after all. Cost too damn much money and all the stupid creatures do is eat, crap and piss all over everything anyway" Andrea said with the tears and frustration of a heartbroken little girl as she waved toward my mess of steel and pipe, within the front yard.

"No honey, I'm going to finish the stables and coral because Duffy might want to board Delight here sometime, OK?" I asked gently, as Duffy nodding affirmative.

"FINE, DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT! -- I'm going in the house for some liniment, I'm staying with Duffy tonight" Andrea said as she abruptly broke from me and stalked away.

..." (sigh) ...Thank you for stepping up to the plate, honey. I know she can be a real handful at times. Do you think we should have her arm looked at?" I asked Duffy quietly, once Andrea had walked out of earshot.

"One of the ranch hands looked at it and said that, other than some bruising and soreness, that it should be fine, he seemed like he knew what he was talking about. I'm so sorry, Tim, I..." Duffy replied, sounding as if she was on the verge of tears again.

"Duffy, you didn't do ANYTHING wrong, the horse was probably just moody, that's all. Please don't let her throw away this dream of having another horse just because of one stupid incident this afternoon -- and DON'T YOU BLAME YOURSELF EITHER! OK Amiga?" I asked, taking her in another hug.

...Now Duffy did cry.

Once the ladies had left in the little yellow beetle, I shut the valves on the tanks for the torch and just left all of my tools laying in the yard; I then walked into the garage and slid out of my coveralls. Grabbing my jug, I took a long pull of water before mounting the recumbent bicycle. ...After touching the remote on the Nissan's sunvisor, I locked the car as I watched the garage door begin sliding down and then sped off for my ride and workout. The bicycle was the only thing that would clear my head sometimes and I knew that today, albeit unfortunate, had in fact been a good day. Vic was a tough kid and I knew he'd be alright. Apparently the wound had been to his lower right arm and not life threatening, Vic was a gym rat and health nut to begin with. ...Vic's wife Angela, I knew, was a mess right now. She was a gorgeous girl and had the disposition of an angel, as her name stated. However when she drank she became obnoxious and mean and it seemed like she was sober less and less these days and more and more completely out of control.

...I made the first turn of my ride and began building a good head of steam now. Several minutes later as I approached the little Texaco station I suddenly slowed down and steered into the parking lot of the antiquated station. I stopped in front of the realtors sign with a sinking heart as I observed the crisp new SOLD!!! sticker placed over the board. I sat there for a few minutes and then started off again -- wasn't meant to be and, really, I already had everything in life that I needed. Maybe I would learn to be a little more decisive in the future now -- "Fortune Favors the Bold", as they say, ...I completed my twenty miles within an hour and forty minutes and then parked the recumbent back in the garage. I still needed to replace the free wheel hub in the rear wheel of the bike but right now it just didn't seem important. I was extremely thankful that Vic and Andrea were going to be OK and knew that all of us would soon smile again. Days like today could certainly put what's important in life into perspective.

Picking up my phone now, I decided to send Connie, Andrea's daughter and Vic's cousin, a quick text. "We're here if you need us. We love you! He's a tough guy, Connie" I pushed 'send' and set the phone down. Walking into the kitchen, I quickly ate a can of raviolis and then made my way to the bathroom and took a shower, scrubbing myself clean of the grime and dirt of coral work and a vigorous bicycle ride. After drying myself and slipping into my robe I sat down and began watching a movie but after about fifteen minutes I shut off the DVD and continued to sit in silence, I just couldn't get interested in watching a movie right now.

I suddenly began singing softly ..."Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, It's not warm when she's away, Ain't no sunshine when she's gone, And she's always gone too long ...Anytime she goes away"

"...What have you done to me, Andrea Millhouse?" I asked the living room and closing my eyes.

I sent Andrea a brief text, telling her that I loved her and then walked into our bedroom; it was nine twenty three PM now. I'd had all I needed of this day and decided to crawl into bad. Slipping out of my robe, I said a few words of thanks and then slid under the covers with Andrea's jasmine scent engulfing me. As I lay there in bed, I looked up once more at the girl in the painting which was now bathed within the dim light of the moon through the window. ...The girl in the painting had been immensely strong and taught to survive, the girl in the painting would always survive and Andrea was part of the girl's lineage, as was Vic. My own mother's words from long ago now echoed in me as well "I know that you have strength and courage within you, son, because I put it there!" I closed my eyes and laid my head on Andrea's pillow but I just tossed and turned for several minutes in frustration with the phrase "Happy wife -- Happy life" running through my mind. Andrea was not happy at this moment and it affected me.

...I suddenly sat up and turned on the lamp above the nightstand again and pulled a thick manila folder out of the drawer. Opening the manila folder now, I began to slowly sift through its contents. "Always a great night's sleep with complimentary coffee and breakfast every morning!" the caption read below the happy young couple as they smiled brightly into the camera. This particular advertisement was on the back of a magazine page which had been carefully removed from a travel publication. This ad and photo had also been all over America, posted in airports and on billboards for six months in nineteen ninety. The young man posing as Andrea's husband, in the photo, had been blessed with a "million dollar face" and been sought after by many advertising agencies during that time, as had Andrea. The two of them really did look like a happily married couple.

"Donny had been such a sweet, sweet young man but he'd been so troubled, Tim. He'd been a great guy to work with and very professional in his craft, it was always a pleasure for me to sign onto a project with him. So many of the other models, male and female, that I'd worked with over the years had been such complete and absolute drama queens but Donny wasn't, I really did like him, we all did" Andrea had said of the young man in the photo with her.

Apparently Donny had eventually ended up the victim of his own inner ghosts and died in a flop house somewhere, unable to come to terms with whatever it was that had troubled him, his million dollar face more of a curse to him then a blessing in the end. Looking at him now, I was sure that he probably had been a great guy, as Andrea had said of him. ...Andrea had also informed me that, like her, most models had certain photographers which they preferred to work with - something just seemed to "click" between certain models and photographers which the advertising agencies were quick to recognize. For Andrea it had been three men by the names of Stevens, Baker and Jackson.

"There needs to be a certain level of professionalism and respect between the photographer and model, Tim. It applies to the lighting and prop crews as well but more so between the photographer and model. That association could almost be described as a formal dance partner or even an intimate relationship. Both the model and the photographer can be under a certain level of stress and each are faced with their own insecurities related to their work. Weather doesn't always cooperate when shooting outdoors and the photographer and equipment also both have their own limitations, as do the models themselves. It can be very stressful at times when the unexpected does happen and certain levels of expectations by the advertiser aren't met. In that case you want be working with someone that's going have your back, the same as in any industry." Andrea had explained to me.

The next scrap of magazine page that I looked at now depicted a, stone cold fox, on back of what appeared to be a Harley, Andrea leaning against the chrome backrest. The photo was essentially a facial close-up of Andrea dressed in a worn black leather vest complete with a large scarf around her neck and the motorcycle appearing to be stationary, as if stopped at a point of interest along a desolate roadway. In this advertisement Andrea wore designer wrap-around sunglasses as she appeared to be looking off into the Desert with the phrase "Destiny ...See it clearly for yourself" inset onto the magazine page slightly below and to the left of Andrea's portrait. The evening colors of dusk within the photo had been left intentionally faded slightly, to create the ambiance of remote solitude found when travelling at one's own leisure. This particular ad had been created for the upper echelon of fashionable women's eyewear. Apparently this photograph had been posted in any optometrist's offices selling this brand of eyewear, for years. This ad showed a LOT of talent on the part of the photographer as well as the model posing for the advertisement, my wife.

The eyewear advertisement gave the distinct impression of a successful businesswoman letting her independent and rebellions side show, once away from the office, with an - I don't give a damn attitude.

"A professionally captured photograph doesn't need any words to convey feelings, Tim, -- the photo speaks to you for itself at first glance, and that's what we're looking for in an advertisement. We want someone that's just halfheartedly leafing through a magazine to suddenly stop and take notice of something which they previously would have shown no interest in. Any phrase or words are just icing on the cake but when the phrases and words FOLLOW the photograph, then it's a professional job! You've heard the expression -- 'A picture is worth a thousand words' - in modeling it can sometimes be worth thirty million words, if you're posing for a major publication. The product advertisers know this, that's why they're willing to pay top dollar for first rate models that are associated with their product -- the model is presenting and REPRESENTING their product! ...Every time I look at Rick Sheffield's amateur photography I get the feeling that the man could have easily worked with models professionally, as a photographer, with very little formal training, he would have been a natural for that kind of work" Andrea had said to me.

Andrea had later said that literally thousands of photographs had been shot over an eight hour period that day to capture this one specific eyewear photograph which I was now looking at. Almost all the other thousands of photos had ended up shredded within the trash bin. This one photo was the one the advertising agency had selected above all the others. ...Andrea had told me that some top models were insured by their agencies for hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of dollars and classified as actual "assets" -- probably millions today, I reckoned. Andrea had also stated that modeling was very hard work at times and could be extremely monotonous, redundant and even dangerous at times, I believed her.

...When Andrea had been active in the modeling field she had been known professionally then as "A. J. West" -- West being her married name. Connie had gone by her maiden name of West until her own marriage when she had then become Mrs. Bill Carson. Gail's name had gone from Millhouse to Longwell, upon marrying Bob. Personally I liked the name Kitfox the best of all.