Truth

desk and some of the basics, she’d done nothing to make it hers. Now, as Derek slipped down the bleached wooden planks, toward the light and resonating soft jazz music, his anticipation grew.
    He read his watch: 11:27. His meeting turned to dinner, into more discussion and into more drinks. It wasn’t the first time since Sophia’s arrival he’d disappointed her by not coming home at a decent hour.
    Leaning around the slightly ajar door, Derek peered into the light at the end of the dark tunnel . His chest filled with love, seeing Sophia’s long blonde hair secured by a big clip and the deep swoop of her nightgown. She was turned the other direction, sitting cross legged on the floor, with her sketch pad on top of an unpacked box. Her hand moved urgently as the charcoal brushed the surface of the linen tablet. He saw his wife’s slender neck all the way down to the middle of her back. Though the room was still in disarray, he noticed a few new bags of art supplies.
    Derek fought the desire to break his wife’s trance. He realized the woman before him, on the floor with darkened fingertips and bare feet was the love of his life. And watching her in this state, almost drugged by her own creative muse, was Derek’s favorite aphrodisiac. The scent of her perfume mixed with charcoal filled his senses. Gripping the door jamb, Derek stopped his impulse to nuzzle her sexy exposed neck.
    They had a beautiful king sized bed, in a large suite with a magnificent view on the other side of the condo. However, as Derek stood watching, he fantasized about taking his wife right there, right now on the wooden floor. Closing his eyes Derek thought about Sophia’s gaze, as they made love. He imagined her stunning gray eyes clouded with a blue haze as their passion ignited. Sadly, Derek realized, he hadn’t seen those blue clouds since New England.
    That realization, combined with the woeful reverberation of saxophone music prompted him to turn silently toward the hallway. He couldn’t disturb her, not for his own desires. Seeing her in her state of euphoria was enough. He eased his way to their room and climbed into their large empty bed. Derek’s only solace, as he drifted off to sleep, was that Sophia was once again drawing.
     
    The linen page filled with different shades of black and gray. Sophia bought colored chalk at the supply store, but charcoal seemed more appropriate. She wasn’t sure what propelled her to the art supplies store in Palo Alto. Perhaps it was her desire to see the numerous art studios in that area boasting wonderful exhibits. After all she’d received a postcard inviting her to one of the exhibits. It wasn’t really to her. It was one of those promotional mailings, but it intrigued her. While perusing the displays, she felt the familiar desire to create. It was so overpowering she couldn’t resist any longer.
    It wasn’t that she’d been resisting. It was more like she’d put it away -- somewhere. Since coming to California there were more important things to do. She needed to be Mrs. Derek Burke . No, she wanted to be. However, with each passing day, Sophia questioned if she wanted to be Mrs. Derek Burke for her or for him. As an executive in a large and upcoming company, didn’t he deserve that? The pretense was draining. Sophia constantly argued with herself... if she wanted to be what Derek wanted, than why did she feel so unhappy?
    While in an art studio on Hamilton Avenue in Palo Alto the curator approached, and they began talking. They discussed the displayed pieces and debated the use of mediums and color. With time Sophia revealed she too was an artist and mentioned her studio in Provincetown and exhibitions in Europe.
    The gentleman asked to see her portfolio. It was at that moment Sophia realized it was still in Massachusetts. That realization struck her with unseen force. Her portfolio -- her life in synopsis -- was back on the Cape. She’d left her life to be with Derek.
    Some of her better works were accessible through her website. She typed in the address and showed Mr. George her art. He appeared more than impressed.
    “ Mrs. Burke, I like your work. It has a fresh raw quality.”
    “ Thank you Mr. George. Please call me Sophia.”
    “ I want you to know this is out of character, to offer a position to someone without checking references, but I’ve recently found myself in need of a trusted employee.” Sophia listened, “I have space in the back where you could