THE CRYSTAL CLAIRE AFFAIR.

Chapter 2: HAPPILY MARRIED LIFE

Happily Married Life:

 She gracefully stepped out of the car with the help of her chauffer, Martin, and made  her way into the lobby of the Manor Dreams building. “Have a goodnights rest Mrs. Lewis.” Martin called after her, as he admired the view from behind. “You too, Martin, Don’t be late tomorrow.” She called back, not turning to look at him.  One step after the other, Claire quickly headed for the elevator. She could feel the stares of almost everyone in the room weighed on her body. Even in a room full of well dressed, classy women, she stood out. A tigress clothed in gold. The way she walked, the hint of a smile on her perfectly made up face. The sway of her hips as she blessed the thirsty stares of those who glanced appraisingly at her, and mocked the hateful eyes of the neglected, forgotten, untouched housewives of ministers, and socialites who could get anything they wanted, but the love and attention of their fully loaded husbands. How pathetic they were. How desperate they were. The elevator worked its way up thirtieth floor she and Joe lived. Four years ago, they had decided to build the Manor Dreams building. The other apartments where rented out, but the penthouse was custom made for them. Opening the door, she waltzed into the black leather studded, white-walled, polished brown wooded, main living room. “Honey, baby, are you home?” no response. She headed for the kitchen; usually he’s in there, stuffing his face with something sugary. On display in their parlor was a portrait of her. During the first weeks as a couple—not a married one, mind you—Joe had taken a picture of Claire, and sent to a French painter by the name of Jean-Mac Allen, which he’d made a seven feet tall, 70-inches, portrait of Claire made up of beautiful bright colors. When he was asked why he’d chosen to make the painting so… bright, he’d said “the happiness in Claire’s eyes were not to be compared to anything other than the beauty of Paris in spring.” Though it might just have been an “artistic” response to a stupid question, even Clairecouldn’t deny the beauty of a vibrant, honest smile.  When was the last time she’d had one of those? Everything now seemed to be all about Prague. She and Joe had been so busy with their individual projects that they barely had any time to cuddle up with each other, and enjoy a cup of chocolate milk… not to mention the other things married people did together. The girl in the portrait was long gone, and in her place was this tired, worn out, business woman who had lost a lot of herself along the way. “Joe, baby…” She was now in their newly remodeled, brown, and crimson themed kitchen. The sweet aroma of vanilla and cinnamon graced the room, making her stomach churn with hunger.                                                                                                                                  She and Joe used to travel to exotic vacations, and stay in exotic hotels, and dine in exotic restaurants, and eat exotic food most of which she couldn’t even pronounce the names of, and they used to get drunk, and get wild. They used to be happy. Back then they had something… Not love… never love… but something. They used to complement each other so well, but now, they couldn’t seem any further apart. As soon as her dreams became a reality, they came crumbling down. There wasn’t a “they”.  There was a Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, but there wasn’t a husband and wife. They lived together as partners… Business partners…. Nothing more, nothing less …