With her clean-out package on the way to Connecticut and the start of another uneventful week underway, Angela set her focus on painting. She'd done a bit here and there her first week or two before her inspiration shifted to the knitting. Feeling confident in her stitches, she could manage both now. The warmer weather helped her muse, too. It wasn't quite Spring, however, the thaw was setting in and shaking away the winter blues. The campus property allowed for spacious views, though most of the open land surrounding led to nearby cornfields. It was something to work with and kept her away from the standard blue-period she might have fallen into back on the coast. The scenes were easy enough, too. She wasn't going to reply on paint-by-numbers this time.
One thing painting had that knitting and crocheting didn't was something to keep her mind focused. Before she knew it the afternoons turned to evenings, nearly causing her to miss her bowling meets both times that week. She didn't think about Connecticut nor New York. Her mind was wholly on brush techniques and color pallets when at her easel. She was surprised at the results. Not Monet, but better than she had anticipated from herself. Perhaps lack of distractions was the key. The last time she really tried to paint was when she was pregnant with Jonathan. Of course then all she could think about was the baby and decorating the nursery.
The memory was bittersweet. Though she didn't miss the days of diapers and sleepless nights, she missed her little boy. She realized how much she missed Billy, too. He had visited off and on since moving back with his grandmother but it was never the same. Though Tony's responsibility in name, there was an unspoken agreement that he belonged to the two of them along with Sam, Jonathan, and even Mona. Living an idle life, she thought of having another baby more often than she anticipated at her age. It wasn't impossible even if it was impractical. It didn't matter anyway. Tony's mind seemed far away from their impending marriage lately. Asking him about the possibility of children was too risky. Any comments made in the past had made him tense. She couldn't see how now would be any different. He was still hurt about losing Billy then — a wound he never wanted to admit cut him so deeply.
If only she had the skill to put these emotions on canvas, she thought. Looking at the finished product before her, it wasn't anything with depth. It was pretty, simple, and not lacking potential, but that was all. Regardless, Tony fawned over it when he got home, inspiring her to do another tomorrow. Perhaps setting her easel up outside, remembering the weatherman said it was supposed to be warmer.
She sighed, now washing the dinner dishes and glad Tony was in the other room watching television. Only a week in and she was already faced with melancholy again. Thankfully, tomorrow was the start of a distraction-free weekend with Tony.
It hadn't been a bad week, so she couldn't make sense of these Friday night blues. Being back in her social groups had made it easier to set her plan in motion. She fed off of the others and didn't have to guess so much as to the proper ways to act. Some of the ladies were beginning to feel like friends, too, for which she was beyond grateful. Different from the country club ladies but almost a welcome change. If there was one good thing she could say about living in Iowa was that the pretenses so many people in Fairfield carried out were absent. Until she'd been away from it for some time, she hadn't realized how exhausting keeping up appearances had been. These women weren't afraid to talk about her to her face, and really all that was said was remarks and bafflement on how inept she was in a traditional female role. They didn't knock her overall character or look for new sources of gossip. No, she didn't fit in, but she was welcome whether it was all for Tony's sake or not. She felt like they cared about her, too. Only a handful of friends in Connecticut and New York fit that description.
"Something the matter, Ang?"
Angela jumped when Tony nudged her arm. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I was callin' to see if you could bring me a beer when you were done."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Drying her hands, she started for the fridge before he stopped her.
"I got it," he said. "But really, you okay?"
"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "Lost in thought. I'm… I've been thinking about the bowling match coming up Tuesday."
Tony leaned against the counter. "Oh?"
Not quite sure where she was going with this, she carried on blindly. "I really want to improve my game. I think I overheard a couple of the ladies talking last night about some kind of tournament. I'm not sure when it will be or what it will entail but I'd love to be of some use."
"I thought you said your game was improving?"
"It is," she corrected, "but Tony… a step up from my usual score is still nothing to brag about."
"Hey, keep practicing and you'll be a pro in no time."
Angela scoffed, tired of hearing this canned response. "Coming from the man who has deemed my tennis game hopeless."
"That's tennis and I stand by my statement," he teased. "Think of bowling more like volleyball, just rolling the ball on the ground rather than in the air."
"Never saw it like that."
"Maybe tomorrow you and I can play a couple of games — make it a date."
Being mindful to keep her expression unchanging, Angela nodded. "Sounds like fun."
As much as she would likely benefit from Tony's pointers, the last thing she wanted to do was use her quality time with him in the same bowling alley she spent a couple of nights a week. Nevertheless, this was what she signed up for. Besides, it seemed to mean something to him even if she couldn't figure out why. She wasn't going to tell him otherwise.
Wanting to get away from the subject, she ushered him back into the living room. "I'll stop daydreaming and finish cleaning up here. Might make myself a cup of tea as well. Oh! And please be careful of my knitting. It still takes me forever to figure out to fix a dropped stitch."
"I thought you moved on to painting?" Tony questioned.
She shrugged and replied before disappearing back into the kitchen, "Variety."