บท 3: The Stranger
There are 3 stages of a woman's life. I always referred to them as the maiden, The Mother and The Crone. Each stage of life we grow, we learn, and we build on what we have accomplished.
The Maiden is the part of our life where we first start our journey as individuals. We learn who we are, what we want and where we want to go from there. It is the time of life where most people open their minds to new beginnings. We travel. We meet people and explore. Who we become as a person is determined by the lessons we learn at this stage.
I bit the tip of my thumb as I often do while contemplating. The painting in front of me was so intricately detailed. The brush strokes were visible with every curve of the women's bodies. The Maiden was to the left her long flowing golden hair surrounded her. She held a lyre in her arms, and she played. There were flowers in her hair, and she wore nothing but thin dress robes that stuck to her body to show off every voluptuous curve.
The Mother stood in the middle her pregnant belly round and full to term. She was naked. Her breasts also round and full of life's nectar ready to burst. Her hair was also golden and flowed all around her body. It wrapped like a snake around her naked thighs. She held one hand out as if to welcome any person into her arms, while holding her belly protectively with the other. Her eyes were wide open and filled with love and compassion.
The Crone stood to the right. Her hair was silver remnants of the golden lock shined while still long and flowing. She held a staff in one hand and a book in the other. She was wrinkled but still standing upright and strong. Her green eyes glowed the same as the other two. She held all the knowledge of her life in one hand. She had a smile on her face as if she had no regrets and welcomed death as an old friend.
I looked over the painting trying to find an artist's name. It was brought to me by a business partner. The family who owned it didn't want it anymore and was looking for someone to sell it for a decent price. The family had medical bills that needed to be paid so they were hoping to get enough to help with those.
Unfortunately, without an artist's name I wasn't sure how much I'd be able to get for it, so I thought the best place for it to hang would be in Aj's gallery. It was possible someone would enjoy it and want to spend the money on it. I had hoped to find an artist's name before it went on display, but I looked the painting up and down and couldn't find a hint of anything. Whoever this artist was didn't want to be known. Even Banksy gave themselves a name of sorts.
Aj came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist as the two men lifted the large painting in position on the wall.
"How does it look?" I asked her while leaning back into her body. She was much taller than me.
"It's beautiful, I'm sure we will find a buyer. I just hope it's enough for the family." she sighed and started to retreat. I spun around and grabbed her, pulled her into me, and kissed her. Her lips had the left-over bitterness of hibiscus tea, and I savored every second of it.
She leaned back slowly and smiled, "What was that for?"
"I wanted to thank you. For putting up with me for all these years. I know my night terrors can be burdensome and. " She stopped me with another kiss.
"Violet. Stop. You have never been a burden to me, and you never will. I love you more than life itself and I plan to take care of you until you are as old as that old woman in the painting. You're stuck with me forever chick I hope YOU can handle ME."
We lingered in each other's arms for a moment until we heard someone's throat clearing. We quickly withdrew and straightened our clothes.
Aj spoke first. "Hello, welcome to my gallery. Is there anything I can get for you, coffee, tea, a shot of jack?" I giggled. This was her rehearsed line she gave every new customer. She wasn't joking either it didn't matter what time it was she always kept a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the back. You never know, someone might take her up on the offer some day.
I wasn't looking at the man while she spoke and only barely got a glimpse of him as she showed him around. I waited a moment and decided to make myself a cup of tea. While she was showing him around my phone chimed and I pulled it out to check the message.
'You have an appointment tomorrow with a dealer from upstate, don't forget!" -Zack
My assistant Zack had been an immense help lately. With Aj's gallery growing and being busier by the month I needed someone to help both of us out for schedules and all the petty things I tended to forget.
I had just finished responding when Aj and the stranger came around the corner and stopped back in front of the painting we were trying to sell.
"I believe this painting is what I've been looking for." His voice sounded familiar. I looked up from my phone when they came closer.
His features started to come into view. He was tall broad shouldered. He was wearing a gray suit, with shiny black shoes. His black hair shined with the amount of product he had in it. He didn't look like he belonged in this time. He had a Clark Gable-like demeanor, even the way he spoke he sounded like he was straight out of a 50's black and white film.
"This is my wife." Aj began the introductions, "Violet Rowley-Davis." I smiled and held out my hand. He took it and the moment I looked into his eyes I froze. Those green eyes.
"Rowley? Why any chance you're related to the famous Rowley's of Old London?" he asked with a grin on his face as if he already knew the answer.
My mouth was dry, and I swallowed hard. His voice, his eyes, that slicked back hair. This man was the man from my dream. As impossible as it was. This was the same man from my recurring nightmare of being burned at the stake.
Still holding his hand, my grip loosened and soon everything went black and the last thing I heard was Aj's voice saying my name in a panic.
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