Picture of Love in Bloom

I splurged and made the trip from Baltimore to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. to immerse myself in an exhibition of Impressionist paintings, Monet being my favorite of the Impressionists'. I had arrived early and there were just a handful of people standing in the area where I was.

I slowly made my way through the museum admiring the many outstanding paintings awash in color and light, the likes of which I had only seen in pictures on a much smaller scale. I was enthralled by the most magnificent paintings, artifacts, and sculptures. The Faberge egg collection; a rare treat, and Renoir's Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette. I continued on until I found myself in a room of the most breathtaking Impressionist paintings by Renoir, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh, and, of course, Monet. I was there for the Water Lilies and literally was stopped dead in my tracks at the shimmering beauty of the paintings. I stood there in awe gazing at these wonderful works of art. They were splendid. Mere words could not do justice to them. 

"Beautiful aren't they," said a deep, masculine voice, not far from me. So startled was I that I jerked around, wide-eyed and saw a very handsome man dressed in black jeans and a black tee shirt standing there. His face was not that of the Grim Reaper, tho. After I regained my composure, I replied, "Yes," so unnerved and taken by surprise that this gorgeous stranger was speaking to me. Not because I was unattractive, but because the last thing I expected was for drop dead gorgeous to insert himself in my line of vision on this day. 

"I'm partial to Van Gogh's Starry Night Over Rhone...Blue is my favorite color." he said, pointing to it.

I turned to see yet another glorious painting in all its splendor. My mind was racing. I hadn't expected for him to approach me. If it had been any other guy, my first thought would've been, 'he's hitting on me...' and I would've avoided him like the plague. But he was in a different class. What next, I wondered?

 I reminded myself of the reason I was here: To take in as much mesmerizing art as I possibly could, to set my senses adrift. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Monet's, Woman with a Parasol, another favorite of mine. I pointed to it and said, "I love this painting. I had a print of this but it was damaged in a move..." 

He stood there looking at it and said, "Stunning."

"Yes," I agreed. 

I was still a bit discombobulated by his presence as he was so handsome, while at the same time...approachable and seemingly unaware of his effect on me. His shoulders were broad, his hips slim, his body lean. So masculine and appealing in every sense of the word. I knew what I liked and he fit the bill and then some. I didn't feel the need to fill the air with small talk and, apparently, neither did he. 

Surrounded by so much beauty, all these wonderful paintings by these Masters, I was perfectly comfortable taking it in with this handsome stranger sans conversation while feeling the filament of more than a small spark between us. Amongst the many extraordinary paintings that spoke to my senses in the most delightful way and his charismatic presence, I was feeling a bit like an angel who had been set alight by a flickering flame that burned a white light, incandescent. Between Irises in Monet's Garden, Nympheas at Giverny, and Impression, Sunrise and this nameless stranger, who was something of a work of art himself, I was beside myself. 

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked, then quickly added, "There's a cafe downstairs."

You sure can, I said to myself. "Sounds like a good idea." I said smiling. 

"My name is Jason," he said, extending his hand to shake mine.

"Erica," I said, shaking his hand.

After that, we made our way to the cafe, got some coffee and sat down at a small table by the window. I took a sip of my coffee and asked, "Do you live in D.C.?"

"No, I'm down from Baltimore."

Music to my ears. I felt jubilant. "Me too" I said. "In what neck of the woods are you in up there?  

"Lutherville."

"You're kidding! I grew up in Lutherville. It's one of my favorite neighborhoods in Baltimore County." I told him that my family had moved there in 1967 and that I had lived in Old Lutherville, an older area of the community set amongst many old trees, Victorian houses, and some landmarks that had been there for years. 

"Small world," he said, looking pleased. 

"So what do you like to do for fun besides visit museums?" I asked leaning forward, looking at him intently, enjoying his company. 

He sat there for a moment then said, "I play the guitar. I have a band."

"Really?" she said enthusiastically. "Do you play anywhere locally?" she inquired.

"Not anything regular." He named a couple of clubs and restaurants in Baltimore County where they played.

"Awesome," she said. "I'm familiar with those places. I love the guitar." He told me that he'd started playing when he was just 10 years old. 

''So what do you like to do for fun?" he asked.

"I enjoy going camping. I love the mountains and the ocean and places off the beaten path." 

"I like camping too," he said. "My friend has a camper. There's nothing like it...nature, peace and quiet, the fresh air."

"I so agree," I said enthusiastically, smiling broadly, taking a sip of my coffee and feeling happy for the first time in a long time. 

He was an electrician and had his own business. I taught 5th grade and loved it. Talking to Jason was like talking to a good friend; easy and comfortable. The more I heard, the more I liked him. "More coffee?" he asked.

"Yeah, I could go for another cup."

"Can I buy you lunch? Something to eat?"

"No, I'm good." I said cheerfully. 

For the next few hours, we sat there talking about all kinds of things: Music, his dog, Trixie, my cat Cody and how pets made the most loyal companions. He even told me about a relationship he'd recently ended with a woman who'd been obsessed with him and who called him over a hundred times after he ended it with her.

Eventhough that was something I would never do, I could see how a woman who'd been in a relationship with him might feel like she'd had the rug pulled out from under her, and how out of sheer desperation, might resort to that. 

As if reading my thoughts, he explained: "She smothered me. It was like I was the reason for her existence...like she had nothing else in her life to feed her."

"I know what you mean. I can't stand it when someone is too clingy or too needy." I said.

 He had been to Spain, Italy, the Pacific Northwest, The Grand Canyon and had even driven cross country. He talked quite a bit about his journeys to these places. "Been to St. Thomas, Virgin Islands too." he said.

"Really? I went there on my honeymoon."

Something changed in the expression on his face. He sat there for a moment then said, "So you're married?"

"No, of course I'm not married. I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you if I was married. That was my ex-husband." I said feeling slightly pissed off.

I felt a little irritated that he would think that I was married, sitting there talking to him all this time.

"Oh I misunderstood," he said, quickly. Then, "So why'd you get divorced?"  

I sat there thinking about which version of the truth I wanted to give him. I decided on the abbreviated version. "We became like brother and sister living under the same roof. It was as if we ran out of gas. I wasn't in love with him anymore and I couldn't kid myself about that. We had no children. We tried, but it didn't happen. Marriage counseling would've been an effort in futility. I was living down in Florida at the time. My parents were getting older and I wanted to spend some time with them. The divorce was amicable. I went my way and he went his. That's when I moved back to Maryland." 

He sat there and nodded as if to say, "I understand." 

"Have you ever been married?" I asked.

"No...came close once...but it didn't happen. Wasn't meant to be."

"I see." I said, sipping my coffee. Never married. I guessed him to be about 50. "I would really like to have a child," he said. "I like kids a lot."

"Kids are my thing," I said smiling, then added, "They keep it real."

"That they do," he agreed. He told me that he and his mother were very close and that she was his best friend. He had a small boat that he kept at a marina in another county. I absolutely loved being out on the water. 

I felt so alive sitting there across from him. It had been years since I'd met a man who lit me up like this. Strong chemistry. I sat there wondering what it would be like to kiss him wrapped in his arms in a passionate embrace. He was the stuff that my dreams were made of. I started thinking about the possibilities with him: A weekend getaway to the Eastern Shore. Out on the water in his boat. Or to the mountains and Deep Creek Lake. A cozy fire, a bottle of wine. Me and him alone together. He had beautiful eyes that made me feel as though he was undressing me, but in the loveliest way. We were already off to a good start having met amidst so many rare gifts here in the museum. 

"What now?" he asked looking at me intently. "More water lilies?" I had seen the splendid paintings I'd come too see and then some. I was content.

"No, I don't think so. What about you...do you want to walk around some more?"

"No." he said looking at his watch. "It's already after 3...I'd like to get ahead of the traffic on the beltway... I'm going to head back. Did you drive?" he asked curiously.

"No, I took the train."

"I could give you a lift back to Baltimore," he said earnestly, smiling, looking hopeful.

I was in no hurry to end what was a very enjoyable conversation with such appealing company. I trusted him and knew I would be perfectly fine accepting a ride back home.

"Really...I wouldn't want to put you out." I said politely. 

"Not at all."

"That would be great." I said, happily. He got up from his chair and together we walked out of the cafe up the stairs. "I have to hit the head." he said. 

"Me too." While in the ladies' room I reapplied my lipstick. Cherry red. I was so happy. What a great Saturday this had been.

We stepped outside into the bright sunlight. It was a spectacular day. Glorious sun. Warm breeze. The cherry blossoms in full bloom. Romance was definitely in the air. 

On the way back home, he glanced over at me and asked: "Can I buy you dinner?"

Then I woke up. "What a great dream," I said outloud, not wanting it to end. "That was the best dream I've had in a long time." The man in my dream was a friend of mine from years ago who I'd had a wicked crush on. How I wished that he and I were just as we had been in the dream. What can I say? A girl can always dream. And on that note, I drifted back to precious sleep hoping to pick up where we'd left off.