“I can’t wait to hear details on that. Oh no, Maddy is running for the bathroom….” The phone went dead. Elly hung up feeling a little deflated. Now she had no friend and no lunch, a bad combination on any day.
She picked up the phone and dialed Aaron. The house phone rang and rang. He was probably in the studio – he never heard the phone while he was in there. Once he started painting, the rest of the world was tuned out, and it was him, his canvas and his music, which blared loudly from speakers set around the room. She could either run down to the iffy Indian restaurant down the street, eat the stale Heath bar in her desk, or she could run home and eat with Aaron. Elly made a snap decision. She needed to stop by the library anyway for research purposes, and their house was barely three minutes from there. He seemed off this morning, she thought, like the painting was weighing heavily on his mind. She would grab lunch on the way home and they could talk about it over some salads from Charlie’s.
Elly grabbed her purse and poked her head into Jeff’s office.
“I’m heading to the library to look at some micro-films about nurse stations during the Vietnam War.”
Jeff nodded and waved his hand at her, absorbed in the Falcons game. “Okay, thanks!”
Elly shut the door quietly behind him. She bounced out to her Tercel, thinking of seeing Aaron’s bright smiling face when she surprised him. Things had been a little off since her mother’s death, with bouts of Elly being depressed, combined with the mediocre success of Aaron’s last gallery showing. It seemed, however, that the veil of sadness was lifting, and there had been new life injected into their relationship in the past couple months. Elly couldn’t put her hand on it, but it seemed that one day their quiet arguments had turned into kisses, and that Aaron had a new and passionate outlook on things. When she watched him whistling around the house, cleaning brushes and categorizing his art books, Elly was filled with such a rush of love that it sometimes overwhelmed her in its sheer volume. It crashed over her, leaving her breathless and captive to Aaron’s every look. Aaron was her everything and she was his. Together their love was… Okay, no need to get carried away, Elly thought to herself, as she popped in an Elton John CD.
Driving through Peachtree, Elly relished the air conditioning that blasted her hair back from her shoulders. She loved Georgia fiercely, but it got so hot that it sometimes made her nauseous, and this July was the hottest on record. Humming along with the music, she wound through the streets and pulled up outside her house after a quick stop at the library and Charlie’s. It was her dream house. Beige and grey brick cemented the walkway up to the white columns and washboard roof. Balsam apple vines wove around fire red celosia that Elly had planted on the side of the walkway. She loved the way the porch creaked when she placed her foot on the thin wood, and the way the door swung open so grandly to announce that she was home.
Walking in the door, she could hear Aaron’s music blaring wildly from his studio upstairs. She smiled and placed the salads onto the counter, and pulled out two crystal wine goblets. Above the fridge were a couple of wine bottles, remnants of house warming and dinner parties. She grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured it into two glasses, making sure that Aaron’s brimmed to the edge. Moving her hips to the pulsating music coming down from upstairs, Elly swung open the fridge and grabbed a brick of cheese. She sliced it into small squares and placed it on a large serving plate with the two salads and the wine. She glanced in the mirror over the stove. She was a little disheveled from the heat, but at least her hair was tame. Her wide blue eyes blinked back at her. This should be fun, she told herself. She picked up the tray, balancing it delicately against her heavy breasts and headed up the stairs.
Aaron’s studio was on the top level of the house. Tiptoeing was unnecessary – Aaron’s music was so loud that Elly could barely hear herself think. Rounding the small corner of stairs, she pushed open the black door to the studio. It was empty. The lights were off and the Evening Ghost canvas stood silently under the skylight. Huh, she thought, where is he? She heard some rumbling from the middle level of the house. Oh, he was in the bedroom – hopefully showering since he didn’t yesterday. She smiled in spite of herself.
Having an artist for a husband made certain things, like not showering on a normal basis, not only tolerable, but sometimes adorable. She turned around on the stairs and made her way to the master bedroom, singing along softly with the music. She kicked open the master bedroom door, her hands holding the tray.
“Guess who brought…”