Rhode To Rouen

James Spurlock and Mia Camello shared a lot of their lives with each other. They shared a hot cup of coffee every Sunday morning, they even shared breakfast. They shared Saturday nights, and that became more religious than habitual. As far as Monday through Friday was concerned; they spent it apart from each other. No one knew about their secret relationship. Not even Mia’s husband. During the week Mia Camello was a 36 year old housewife with two step-kids. An 8 year old boy and a girl, aged 10. She always dressed nicely and spoke wisely. You could tell that you were in the presence of an aristocrat the second she walked into a room. She stayed home while her stock-market-tycoon-husband, Bob, went out into the real world to put food on the table. She was the perfect wife. She worked hard. She cleaned up after herself and the rest of her family and she looked stunning with long brown hair, beautiful hazel eyes and the body of a beauty-pageant winner. The Camello Family lived in Newport, Rhode Island. They had a beautiful white mansion that they called home. Mia loved her family-life. She had beautiful children that were great with academics, a husband that was outrageously rich and a kicking sex-life. Sadly the sex-life didn’t have much to do with her husband. Mia had the ruffled, brown haired, brown-eyed James Spurlock to thank for that. James was the same person during the course of the week as he was when Mia was with him during the weekend. He hadn’t a care in the world. Neither did he have a job nor did he have a career. James had done it all in his time. Started off as an artist, then he later went on to become an author. He never had been published, but when asked he’d say that he was working on it. He lived his life by his own rules and he had none. James was everything that Mia wanted to be, but couldn’t. James wanted to change nothing about his life. He didn’t have anything that he sought to achieve. No deadlines. All he needed was to open the creative mind that god had gifted him with, and all he needed for that was marijuana. Luckily, he always had some in his possession along with a platoon of other illegal substances. Whenever Mia was around him, even she couldn’t help but indulge. A little cocaine here, maybe a little hashish there. Anything in the name of love or, in their case, lust. The week went by slow for Mia. She had laundry and other such housework to finish. That, and taking care of two growing children and pretending to be happily married. Her husband was expected to come home every weekday at 7:30 PM. His children always flocked to him when his car came to a halt outside. The kids loved their dad. Mia did too, to some point. She just couldn’t wait for the monotony of the week to end. And for Saturday to arrive so that she could be with James. The man she was fucking behind her husband’s back. Saturday was poker night on Bob’s yacht. He had a policy which he followed strictly: Guys only. Poker night lasted all of Saturday night and some of Sunday morning. Mia would arrange for the kids to sleepover either at their friends houses or with a member of their family for the weekend, claiming that she deserved a girl’s night out too. James and Mia had a bond. They were great together. They never bothered about what was or wasn’t happening in the world they lived in. They had no responsibilities and they had no worries. It was the best relationship either of them had ever been in. The two of them met at an art gallery three years prior to this day. It was raining outside, which was the only reason Mia was even in an art gallery. James was selling a few of his paintings there. Mia was amazed by the colors she saw around her. She stopped at James’ painting. It was one of a disfigured old woman, curled up into the fetal position. He painted it all with just one shade of Brown. Mia stood there and stared for hours on end. “This lady is a good friend of mine.” said James to a confused Mia; as he pointed at the woman in the picture. She was taken by surprise, she put her left hand on her chest to show how taken aback she was by the stalker-like stunt this strange man had pulled on her. She turned around only to find the man that had made her heart skip a beat had thick brown hair and mystical brown eyes. She was staring at a man in an art gallery who was wearing what seemed like his grandfather’s jacket over his unwashed jeans. She liked what she saw, and that surprised her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is James. James Spurlock.” He went on to say while holding his hand out to greet her. She in turn held out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Mia. What do you know about the woman in the painting?” “Judging by the looks of things, she’s going through a lot of shit right now.” He said with a wry smile. “Is that why the artist has used just Brown?” she asked, cheekily. He cracked his knuckles and went on to say, “Well, either that or the artist must’ve been smoking too much pot to know the difference between that and any other color.” She nodded her head and said, “That’s a good read. I’d love to smoke some pot with this artist. Maybe then I’ll know what he was thinking when he painted this.” “Sure we could hang out together.” he said to her curtly as they exchanged phone numbers.