When painting a masterpiece you didn't always have to hide the brushstrokes.

The brush stroke could tell their own story. A good one, a bad one, a boring one, an eventful one. Each brush stroke either added life or took it out of the painting. There was a power to it, making things, creating a world. A world confused to the edge of a sheet of paper. One stroke, then another, and then another. All on a sheet of paper.

Or a face.

"For the love of…come on…" muttered Abigail as she, once again, went outside of the lines. Purple shimmer on her lids and black in the back, a line of it, to make her eyes look bigger. She had to get it shaped right…she had to get all of this right.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't paint one goddamned line. That was all she needed. One line for the border and then the rest on her lids. That was all. Nothing fancy, it wasn't like she was planning on putting on falsies or anything like that. No way, she didn't have nearly enough time for that. The baby would be up any minute. When the baby got up then her day started, whether she liked it or not.

Whether she was ready or not.

"You know how to paint a line, Abigail, you're not an amateur." Said Abigail. She wasn't. She had been sneaking makeup since junior high. She just wasn't used to adding depth like this. An optical trick, something she'd picked up from a magazine…something that she should have practiced before this. She didn't even know why she bothered. Yoshio wasn't going to notice. He never noticed. It was his day off, some kind of national holiday. A day to spend with his family.

A day to spend near his family.

The hair on the back of her arms stood up. The baby was waking up…it had nothing to do with the baby waking up. It was just the central air. It was a lot harder to control than a window box. It was just too cold in here. She would turn the heater up when she was done…if she even got done…

She gave up.

Just purple, that was all. Just purple shimmer on her eyelids. She didn't see the point in getting all dolled up anyway if she was just going to sit in the house all day with her family. Who was going to say something? Yoshio? The baby? Touichirou was a lot more likely to say something. He was trying to talk now, it seemed. She was hearing the beginnings of Mama, maybe, or baba, or maybe he was just making noises.

Anything was better than crying.

She heard a door opening and closing. Either Yoshio had gotten up or Touichirou had climbed out of his crib. She had read that babies could support their entire body weight on one hand. She hadn't tried that yet, taking that baby to the doctor was a pain and a half, and she may not have needed to. After all he could climb out of his crib on his own and crawl all through the house. Yoshio could deal with it…no he couldn't. Leaving Touichirou with his father was just like leaving him with no one at all.

She heard him crying.

"I'm coming, Touichirou!" said Abigail as she put her eyeshadow back into her makeup case. She had to put this up, Touichirou had been getting into everything lately. She turned her back for five minutes and then he was gone, turning some room of the house into a disaster area. They said, all the books and magazines, that it got easier as they got older. They got smarter, they got less curious, and they could be left to their own devices. She couldn't wait until Touichirou got on his bike and just left her alone for a few hours.

Peacefully alone, not whatever this version of alone was.

This version of aloneness where her husband could wrap an arm around her, pull her close, and kiss the side of her face and she could feel completely alone. She turned her head away from him. She could see him in the bathroom mirror. Herself, too…she could see all the brush strokes. Literally. She needed a new brush. She needed a new everything…but it was so hard to get out of the house with Touichirou…and it wasn't like she could leave him with anyone.

Especially not his father.

"Are you almost done in here? Touichirou's crying in his room." said Yoshio. Abigail looked in the mirror pushed her hair up in an attempt to give it some more volume. Her curls were coming loose again. She hadn't set them properly. She hadn't had the time. Touichirou was getting up in the middle of the night again. There had been a lull but now it was back…it got older when they got easier.

"Abi?" asked Yoshio

"Did he climb out of his crib again?" asked Abigail, watching Yoshio in the mirror. His hair was sticking up again, honestly he looked like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket or something. His brush was laying right there on the bathroom counter next to hers. She hadn't cleaned it for him and put it away the last time he used it…and he was going to need it cleaned out….

She picked it up and handed it to her as it was.

"No, he was in there when I checked on him." Said Yoshio handing her the brush back.

"What?" asked Abigail

"Can you clean that out for me?" asked Yoshio. Abigail sighed and got to it. Her hands were smaller and she was closer to the garbage basket and…and whatever other reasons he was going to come up with as to why she was the best person for this job.

"Did you let Touichirou out of his crib or did you just leave him in there?" asked Abigail as she started pulling hair out of the brush. Stiff and kind of sharp. A bit like Touichirou's hair…she so hoped that he didn't wind up getting his father's hair. The eyebrows were unfortunate enough. She was so glad that she hadn't had a girl. She couldn't even imagine what it would have been like for a little girl to go through life with eyebrows like Touichirou's. Nobody cared how a little boy looked. A little girl, however, would have been ruined and then she'd never have any hope of a better life.

That was what they were all looking for, wasn't it? A better life?

"I wasn't sure if you wanted him out or not so I just put the TV on for him." Said Yoshio

"Which channel's coming in clear this morning?" asked Abigail

"NHK general, as usual." Said Yoshio

"Usual? You never watch with us in the mornings. Never on a Monday." Said Abigail as she turned around and handed him his brush. She stepped to the side. The crying was done now. That commercial Touichirou liked had probably come on, the one with the kaiju and the annoying jingle. She'd check on him in a moment. She had to fix her hair first. The crying was done, the urgency was gone, and there was no point spending the day looking frumpy.

She was a mother now but that didn't mean that she was getting old.

"I have a television in my office, Abi, remember? We make them?" said Yoshio as he began to brush his hair. She had to reach around him to plug her curling iron back in. It was faster than the electric rollers.

"I remember. You make parts for televisions and sell them." said Abigail, with an emphasis on the word 'parts'. She may not have known the day to day of her husband's job but she had, eventually, taken the time to figure out what he did. He made the insides of televisions and computers and other things like that. It wasn't complicated.

He didn't have to talk to her like she was a child.

"We might as well make the whole thing, and we will, if everything goes right. I just have to get the big boss to let go of this 'tube' thing. Transistors. They're for more than just radios, you know." said Yoshio

"I had a transistor radio when I was child." Said Abigail, ducking down and trying to walk under him. That man just could not take a hint…what? Did he want to end up burnt?

"All to yourself?" asked Yoshio as she twisted her hair around the hot iron.

"Of course. You didn't have a radio when you were a kid?" asked Abigail. She had no idea how he could have gone through life without his own radio, not even a turntable, just a radio. She'd had both, of course, and with them came complete freedom. No more Benny Goodman, no more Perry Komo, no more…well Buddy Holly had been ok…but still, there were very few things worse than sharing a radio with your parents. The only thing that could have compared was sharing a television, if such a thing had been possible, but televisions had been very expensive back then….poor Yoshio…

But on the bright side Touichirou was doing better than both of his parents had at his age so…victory?

"No…do you think Touichirou would want one?" asked Yoshio

"Probably, he likes music…or maybe he just likes noise. A record player would be good, too, while we're spoiling the baby." Said Abigail

"I don't see how I'm spoiling him. A man provides for his family and I provide very well. Who do you think keeps you in such fine clothes?" asked Yoshio. Abigail looked down and tugged at her dress. It was true. She never would have been allowed to wear something like this back home…and it was nicer than those J.C. Penney dresses mom used to always pick out for her.

"Alright, I'll give you that. You provide well for us…but I still can't believe you didn't at least have your own radio. You're only three years older than I am." Said Abigail

"Three years, three months, and three days." Said Yoshio. She smiled and shook her head.

"Yes, yes, yes, you can do math. Wonderful. I guess that's what you did with your time while the rest of us were staying up late with our radios pressed to our ears trying to see if we could pick up the frequency from the drive in." said Abigail

"In a way, you're right. Father did always like me to improve myself. One of the few things he ever approved of….my father didn't approve of the idea of me having anything of my own, but you know him, he never approved of much of anything." Said Yoshio. He put his brush back down on the counter…without cleaning it out. She wondered if his father had approved of that when he had been growing up. She wouldn't have put something so backward past Suzuki Sadao. She wouldn't have put anything past that man.

"He made that fact quite clear when he met me…and at our wedding…and when you called to tell him Touichirou was born." Said Abigail

"Yes, I remember." Said Yoshio

"I'm amazed that the operator didn't disconnect up with how loudly he was yelling." Said Abigail

"I know." said Yoshio

"And the words he used. I'd never even heard some of those before, not conjugated together like that." Said Abigail with a laugh. It had been funny, really, looking back on it. A man his age, nearly seventy three at the time, curing down the telephone like some kind of drunk dialer. He may have been drunk, even. The man did love a fine sake, it might have been what was keeping him alive. Just preserved hate and bile, like a grocery store fruitcake.

"I was there, I am aware of…my father is…can you check my hair? Can you make sure it's laying flat in the back?" asked Yoshio. Abigail rolled her eyes and turned him around.

"Looks fine to me, though I'm not sure why you even bothered. It's not like we're going to be going anywhere today." Said Abigail

"It's freezing outside, where would we even go?" asked Yoshio

"I don't know, anywhere, anywhere outside of this house." Said Abigail. She unplugged her curling iron and practically threw it into the sink…not smart…and now the sink was scorched. Right there, cutting right through the daffodil yellow.

"I'm tired, Abigail, I so rarely get a day off and anyway there's some work that I've been meaning to catch up on." Said Yoshio

"Then how is it a day off if you-" said Abigail as the bathroom door swung opened. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. It was just Touichirou…no, it was just the breeze, that was all.

"Hey, look at this!" said Yoshio as he picked Touichirou up. Touichirou didn't smile, or frown, he just let himself be picked up. Abigail could see him in the mirror. He was just looking around…she rubbed the backs of her arms. She had to

"He does that sometimes. He just can't wait to start the day….God only knows why." Said Abigail

"Because he misses his mother and he wants to spend time with her." said Yoshio. Touichirou was starting to squirm. She reached out and took him in her arms before Yoshio set him off.

"He probably misses you more." Said Abigail as she bounced Touichirou…he took the time to pull her hair…lovely.

"I see him all the time. I check the pictures." Said Yoshio

"But he doesn't get pictures of you…it's fine. We're seeing you now. Four or five times a months…how's he supposed to miss you if he only sees you four or five times a month. He doesn't even know…it's alright. Just…go downstairs. I'll get breakfast going in a minute." Said Abigail. Touichirou was squirming now. She put him down. Yoshio looked at her, the baby, and then at her again.

He actually picked Touichirou up of his own accord.

"You're right, Abi, you're right. I should spend more time with him. I'll take him downstairs for you, that way you can finish putting on your makeup." Said Yoshio before he turned and left. He closed the door on his way out, too….maybe just to deprive Abigail the satisfaction of slamming it.

She wished she could have.

But she didn't. She may have kicked the toilet room door, she may have slapped the wall, and she may have thrown her curling iron back down onto the sink but she hadn't…she hadn't slammed the door. She was…she wasn't fine…but she had to be fine. She had to go downstairs and she had to cook breakfast and try to get Touichirou to eat and then she had to do the laundry and wax the kitchen floor, and then…and then she had a literal laundry list of other things to do…which she would do, because she had to.

But she wouldn't be painting this masterpiece anymore. No point in hiding the brushstrokes.