Good Intentions by Joy Fielding

Author:Joy Fielding
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780385672115
Publisher: Onyx
Published: 1989-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Renee sat on the large white sofa in the middle of her large white living room and stared at her husband’s latest acquisition, a bright paint-splattered explosion by a Florida artist named Clarence Maesele. Abstract illusionism, Philip had called it, and Renee thought that as good a description as any. She liked the painting. It was colorful and dynamic and it moved. Unlike much of the artwork that lined the walls of Philip’s apartment (when had she started referring to it, even in her own mind, as Philip’s apartment?), consisting of static, flat lines of color, Maesele’s painting was three-dimensional, its multitude of colors leaping off the canvas in bold, erratic layers. Normally, just looking at the painting made her happy. When Philip had first brought it home a few months before, and announced that he had bought it that afternoon (when had he stopped consulting her about major purchases? had he ever consulted her?), Renee had been excited and glad. (And a touch anxious. Come on, Renee, admit it. He didn’t even stop to ask your opinion, whether you thought he’d paid too much, gotten a steal, where you thought he should hang it, whether or not you even liked it.) She had run to get him a pencil and a ruler so that he could measure and mark the spot where he would hammer in the nail, then she had helped him hang the large painting, mindful not to scratch the wall. Then she had sat back and studied the painting, letting him tell her all about it, formulating a few observations of her own but keeping them to herself, afraid to risk his censure or ridicule. Philip was the authority on art. There was a time when she knew a little something about it, but lately, she had let that knowledge slide. Maybe she had let her practice overtake her life. Maybe she had lost sight of her priorities.

Renee turned away from the painting. While it normally made her happy, tonight it made her nervous, even a touch sad. It jumped out at her, pointing colorfully accusing fingers in her direction, although she had lost sight of what exactly she was being accused of. She turned toward Philip, who stood in the middle of the room, trying to concentrate on his words, not wishing to be accused of not listening.

“I’m sorry, Philip,” she said, trying to remember what she should be sorry for, deciding that it didn’t matter. She didn’t care.

“You’re interrupting.”

“I’m sorry.”

Interrupting again. Sorry again.

What were they arguing about this time? When had all these arguments started?

There had been a time when they didn’t fight, when his words had been soothing and soft and reassuring and loving, not harsh and nasty and mean and relentless, God, so relentless. I’m the one who’s supposed to be so good with words, she thought. I’m the legal eagle, the courtroom wizard. I’m the one with the bagful of lawyer’s tricks. Isn’t that what he tells me? About my ability to twist everything he says? Face it, Renee, you thrive on confrontations.

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