{"id":1793,"date":"2025-05-08T12:10:03","date_gmt":"2025-05-08T17:10:03","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/?p=1793"},"modified":"2025-05-08T12:10:03","modified_gmt":"2025-05-08T17:10:03","slug":"every-whistle-paints-a-picture","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/2025\/05\/every-whistle-paints-a-picture\/","title":{"rendered":"Every Whistle Paints a Picture"},"content":{"rendered":"

A trio of clouds, bruised and smoldering from the summer night\u2019s rain, lingered over the lake as Ava and Gino ate breakfast. They sat on the resort\u2019s west patio, dishes scattered about, their attention diverted by a heavyset man as he crossed the parking lot and crowded himself into the passenger seat of a late-model sedan. The car sagged to one side, failing to budge from its low position as the man\u2019s wife, beanpole-thin, slid behind the wheel.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYo\u2014Marco Polo,\u201d Ava said, aiming her fork at the melon slices on Gino\u2019s plate. \u201cI said, can I have those?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Gino\u2019s lips parted, but he didn\u2019t answer, mindful of the lopsided vehicle exiting the lot. \u201cIt\u2019s always that way, isn\u2019t it?\u201d he said, still tethered to the jejune stupefaction. \u201cTall and short. Skinny and fat. Introvert, extrovert. It\u2019s a fundamental law of magnetism\u2014how people attract.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRight\u2014\u201d Ava said, \u201c\u2014the lionhearted and the chicken-livered. The cruel with the kind. Predator and prey.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Gino\u2019s jaw grew slack. \u201cPredator and prey? You don\u2019t get it at all.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

His glower, impossible to ignore, pressed in on Ava, permanent, implacable. Not even the broad, silvery lake lapping the shore a hundred yards away could dilute the hostility. Two tables over, a couple nuzzled close and held hands, trading intimacies.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava leaned forward. \u201cOkay, Sigmund Freud. What\u2019s your point?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEven businesswise\u2014opposites attract. I\u2019m spitballing here, so stay with me. My revised goal is to foster an alliance of commerce and art\u2014a subgenre niche between contemporary and crossover jazz, to be exact. To achieve this, I merely need to reroute the sequence of the original formula\u2014\u201d Gino gasped as though frightened by the brilliance. \u201cWhy, this is the\u2014key\u2014to\u2014my\u2014comeback,\u201d he said, his meaty finger thumping the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, but your latest brainchild has a slight defect in logic\u2014in order to come back, you have to have been somewhere,\u201d Ava said between bites of fruit. She resisted throwing too many stones at him, for what she knew about the subject of art, you could store in a teacup. His knowledge wouldn\u2019t fill a thimble.<\/span><\/p>\n

A knot formed over Gino\u2019s nose, and he pitched back in his chair. \u201cIn case you\u2019ve forgotten, I spent eight years at the top of the heap.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava pretended to choke. \u201cWhat\u2014top? What heap?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMidwest Jazzco regional music coordinator. That heap.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava\u2019s fork clanged against her plate. \u201cEugene, you wrote algorithms based upon lists of popular songs you took from industry trade mags. You\u2019re no influencer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re painting me with the wrong brush,\u201d he bristled. \u201cI\u2019m a pioneer, a modern prophet\u2014a disc jockey for the new age. Avant-garde. Au courant.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFrench phrases for the unemployed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt means\u2014plugged in, baby.\u201d Gino slanted his head, and the wheat field of hair he\u2019d sowed into middle age fanned across his forehead.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Although thoroughly familiar with Gino\u2019s rugged appeal, Ava detected a stir. \u201cYou\u2019re a computer programmer\u2014for chrissakes,\u201d she said, feeling betrayed by the emotions.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI had listeners in the tens of thousands.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2014the satellite radio and television stations who adopted your playlist formula\u2014they had listeners.\u201d Ava reached for his hand. \u201cGino. Everybody knows you\u2019re good at what you do. So good, you put yourself out of a job. Know what I mean? Now, do you want those capers?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGo ahead. I thought they were burnt peas, anyway,\u201d Gino said, gazing skyward.<\/span><\/p>\n

The gentle, flowing river of ease Ava drifted in on two days ago had evaporated. She remembered a time\u2014at the onset of their marriage\u2014when Gino\u2019s aloofness carried a scholarly type of appeal. More recently, the dignified way he presided over the death of his profession\u2014playlist selection programming for music channels\u2014and the subsequent loss of his job, she considered impressive. But the weekend getaway in this romantic location had played out like a bitter parody. Gino was at his best daydreaming about terahertz waves, not freely roaming the beach.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava pulled her hand away, and Gino reached under the table to fumble with his luggage locks. The sunny-faced waitress, pony-tailed and all of twenty-two, arrived with their bill. While Ava dug around in her purse, Gino assumed a distant, thoughtful pose.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014the wildness of white caps over Lake Michigan\u2014and\u2014like diamonds they danced in the moonlight,\u201d he said, quoting a passage of poetry.<\/span><\/p>\n

Familiar with the passages of poetry Gino often laid bare with an air of smugness, Ava handed her credit card to the server. \u201cMeghan,\u201d she said, reading the girl\u2019s nametag, \u201cbe a dear and take our photo?\u201d Ava surrendered her phone, tousled her hair, and shifted closer to Gino.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d A dimple creased Meghan\u2019s cheek. \u201cHave you stayed at Willowwinds before?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOnce, on our honeymoon,\u201d Ava replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAww. So\u2014this is an anniversary?\u201d Meghan exclaimed. The open-air veranda, solemn as a Quaker wedding, reverberated with congratulations.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose you could call this an anniversary.\u201d Ava edged forward and whispered, \u201cWe\u2019re celebrating our divorce. The final papers went through.\u201d She and Gino angled their heads together in a playful look. \u201cBe sure to get the lake in the background,\u201d Ava said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Unable to regain her composure, Meghan aimed the phone and snapped several pictures in rapid succession. \u201cIt\u2019s touchy,\u201d she said, handing the phone to Ava.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot so much\u2014of late,\u201d Gino replied with a wink.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava squinted into the sun at the girl\u2019s bewildered face. \u201cForgive us. We\u2019re not ourselves,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

A customer on the far side of the deck signaled for assistance, and Meghan hurried to their aid. Ava imagined herself connected to one of those manually operated butt-kicking boots and yanked the cord multiple times. How ill-prepared she was, revisiting a romance gone sour\u2014this Greek tragedy of theirs. Let someone else pander to Gino\u2019s narcissistic preening\u2014entice his roving eye, which now fell on Meghan at the hostess stand.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

His sunglasses leveled over the bridge of his nose, his penetrating stare\u2014the one he compared to Picasso\u2019s\u2014directed toward the mark. Far from putoff, Ava was strangely grateful for the affirmation, to have witnessed his parade of imperfections at street level one final time. Little had changed since their first years together, and what a carnival ride it had been. But he was one of those frightening, fascinating, charismatic clowns throwing candy at the curb, this last piece, more bittersweet than the rest.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Only once in the fifteen months since their separation had Ava allowed Gino to move back in, and she regretted every moment of the misspent compassion. Aside from the occasional contract work, he\u2019d been unemployed for over two years, and his funds were more or less depleted. She couldn\u2019t help but sympathize with his troubles, but loneliness played into it, too. An eighteen-year marriage is an unassailable island, a safe harbor surrounded by uncertain tides, where familiarity, however wretched, is preferable to sailing into the unknown. So, instead of your typical, unfulfilling post-divorce rebound, the one after Gino\u2014was Gino.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

A taxi drove up the quiet road, wending its way between the dune grass, and parked in the guest lot. Gino edged closer. \u201cThis could have been so awkward\u2014for you,\u201d he said. \u201cSo I\u2019m super glad you booked separate rooms\u2014best idea you ever had.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI agree,\u201d Ava said, twisting her napkin in her lap. \u201cIt would be less awkward if you left.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She refused to watch him tug his suitcase toward the vehicle. The taxi door slammed, and she swiveled around in her chair. If this was their ultimate farewell, she wanted an image\u2014a dark blue mini-van dispatching him to the airport.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava flagged the waitress down, ordered a mimosa, and sauntered down the terrace to a sun-faded, scarlet-colored wicker sofa. Meghan returned minutes later with the drink. Ava pressed a twenty into her hand. \u201cKeep it,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2014what a\u2014pleasant surprise. Thank you,\u201d Meghan said in her camp-counselor voice. \u201cI hope you enjoyed your stay, regardless.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOnly Gino left. I\u2019m here another night,\u201d Ava said into her drink.<\/span><\/p>\n

Meghan scuffed her sandals against the deck. \u201cWhat you did\u2014it\u2019s courageous,\u201d she said, her brief pixie smile abandoning her face, and she walked away.<\/span><\/p>\n

Despite the compliment, sainthood wasn\u2019t in the works for Ava after her short-lived affair with the butcher\u2014the end-of-marriage payback for Gino\u2019s numerous infidelities. But was Meghan privy to their separate rooms? It had been done at Gino\u2019s request\u2014the sleeping arrangements. Ava knew what it meant. Only a fool\u2019s fool is surprised by the audacity of a cad. On their second morning at the retreat, Gino had arrived by cab just in time for breakfast.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava tried not to brood, but how to spend the rest of the afternoon? A forty-dollar bottle of sparkling wine they had intended to share at sunset was in the mini-fridge. She might pop the cork, sit at the sidewalk table between Gino\u2019s empty room and hers, and distribute hand-written bulletins\u2014Wanted\u2014Dead or Alive: Soul Thief. A robin\u2019s cuck-tuck came from the sycamore tree overhead. Even Mother Nature approved of the scheme.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

On the other side of the property, past the gardens, an alabaster sign shouted GUEST SERVICES, and so, drink in hand, Ava started down the flower-lined sidewalk toward the shamrock-colored lodge. A young man looked up from his computer as Ava entered the spa.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMay I help you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDepends,\u201d Ava said with a mischievous grin.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The kid handed her a menu that listed an array of holistic therapies available to guests. Ava lipped her mimosa while she perused the laminated card. \u201cThis one sounds delicious,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019d like the full-body treatment.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOne of our most popular packages,\u201d said the attendant.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can only imagine.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get you signed up. Do you prefer a man or a woman?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFor the therapy session,\u201d he said. \u201cThe next available slot is at 8 pm. Do you want to book it with a man or a woman?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIn my current state, any humanoid will do as long as it has hands, ears, and a heart.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Ava waited on a chair outside her room, ruminating over the day\u2019s events and then back to her honeymoon with Gino almost two decades ago. Their two-bedroom suite was directly across the compound. The one with a maroon clownfish on the door, a secluded porch out back, a garden, and private access to the beach. On their second night, they shared a champagne magnum on the patio, arms coiled around one another on the sectional, and took turns picking out constellations. A warm breeze blew in from the lake, and at some point, Gino drew her close and said. \u2018This weather is tremendous. How about we lay down in the grass and do it?\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Okay,\u2019 Ava said, removing a strand of windblown hair from her face. \u2018We\u2019ll have to find the right position.\u2019\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019re right,\u2019 Gino said, \u2018Facing the wrong direction, certain parts might start to whistle.\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

She would miss Gino\u2019s irreverent humor\u2014but little else. Perhaps she should cancel the masseuse and turn inward for a while\u2014reenergize. Bits and pieces tend to disappear when you love someone like Gino: bones, skin, internal organs, reason, psyche, fortitude\u2014gray matter. It\u2019ll take time to reclaim those parts and fit them back in. To become yourself again.<\/span><\/p>\n

A dense cloud settled over the last hump of the sun, low on the water, and light beams spilled through the gauzy veneer. Ava capped the wine bottle and put her empty glass on the table. As the breeze rattled the branches above her head, she tilted back in the chair and began to whistle an airy tune. And she could almost see the quavering, melancholy notes as they drifted upward into the cold, cobalt sky.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A trio of clouds, bruised and smoldering from the summer night\u2019s rain, lingered over the lake as Ava and Gino ate breakfast. They sat on<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[23,27],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1793"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1795,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1793\/revisions\/1795"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1793"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1793"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1793"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}