Commodore And Jeanette
by Robert Grenier
Commodore turned the ignition, and was pleased at the smooth vibration of the engine. He was afraid that he was to need the nickel plating for the pistons, but his worries ceased at the soft purr coming from under the hood. He pulled out of his garage and into his driveway, the insistent crunch of gravel beneath his wheels.
"I do believe I shall cross the river and visit my neighbors this day" he said aloud, and off he went.
After a short drive through rolling green hills, he pulled into a dirt driveway through a cast-iron fence. There was a house of cozy architecture, round and abstract with bright contrasting colors. A young woman of about twenty-six years sat at a white table near the porch drinking tea.
"Jeannette," Commodore yelled from his open passenger-side window, "I had to stop by and show you my new car."
She smiled and waved, gesturing for him to join her at the table.
"It is so nice to see you." said Jeannette "Would you like a cup of tea? It is an Andalusian blend."
"I would love some." replied Commodore, eyeing the porcelain teapot's design of angelic hosts.
"I am glad you have come today of all days, for I have just finished my latest painting this very morning. Would you like to come inside and see it?"
They entered the house through a quaint non-rectangular door with a large diamond-shaped peering hole. A small table with vibrant orchids sat meditatively on the left, and a spiral staircase rose beckoningly to the right. Jeannette's paintings hung with a certain omnipresence on all walls.
She guided him into an adjacent room. Her newest painting was showcased on an easal, illuminated by shafts of natural light through a high window.
"I have attempted to paint in the style of the Neo-Donatellons." she said softly, "The glazing process is time-consuming, but gives the finished work a certain bejeweled quality."
Commodore looked approvingly at the work. It was a technicolor cascade of emerald and sapphire, that upon close inspection revealed itself as a bird of paradise emerging from an arboretum. Like all of Jeannette's works, it was of exceptional quality.
Robert Grenier is a writer of philosophical fiction who resides in Rochester NY. Contact Robert.
