A Colorful Life: Drawn in Broken Crayon

by Melissa Storm

  Daly leaned in to kiss Meghann's cheek. "He's beautiful."

  "He's going to be the world's best cricketer," Kashi declared.

  Daly slugged him, but wore a huge smile.

  Meghann held Elijah up so all could see how his flat nose resembled a button, and how his tiny eyes squinted as if the world was too much to take in all at once. He had ten fingers, ten toes, and a tiny wisp of strawberry blond hair that formed a peak at the center of his small head.

  Daly had to resist cooing at the bobbling ball of wrinkled, red flesh.

  Laine caught Daly's eye and gave her a tender smile. Was Laine remembering the day she and Oliver welcomed her into the world? She hoped so. Daly smiled back and whispered again, "I love you, Mom."

  From opposite sides of the bed, Daly met Kashi's gaze. They smiled, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Now wasn't the right time, but one day they would be here again. They would swaddle their own baby in the soft hospital blanket, count its toes, and do everything in their power to give it the best future possible.

  ***

  Ever the doting godmother, Daly spoiled little Eli with a mountain of gifts. While shopping for groceries, she stumbled upon an adorable bottle painted with fluffy duck-shaped clouds. At Kashi's pharmacy, she spotted an I heart Mommy bib. Her most outlandish purchase was a four-foot-high stuffed gorilla with light blue fur and a happy grin.

  Meghann never once pointed out that carrying the toy with them to their new home in Florida would be impossible.

  The newlyweds often went to extremes to concoct excuses to babysit. "Hey, Meghann, wouldn't you like to go to the spa with Laine?"

  "Hey, Meghann, don't you want a quiet night, when you can actually sleep?"

  "Meghann, if you let us watch Eli for the day, I'll bake you the tastiest cake you've ever eaten!"

  The new mommy was always happy to oblige Elijah's godparents.

  Daly hated to think about them leaving.

  ***

  The phone rang while Daly and Kashi were watching Eli; Meghann was at her parents' house, packing for her impending move.

  "Can you get that?" Daly pulled off Elijah's soiled diaper. "It's probably Meghann checking in. Make sure to tell her how much fun he's having with us!"

  Kashi stretched from his seat on the couch and put the phone on speaker so Meghann could hear Eli's coos and giggles. "Hello?"

  "Akash bhaiya?"

  "Mishti, is that you?" It was three in the afternoon in Michigan, which meant it was one o'clock in the morning in Delhi.

  "Of course, it's me."

  "What's going on? Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?"

  "It's more than okay. I've got big news!" Mishti inhaled sharply. "I'm getting married!"

  "Married?" Kashi echoed. "Who's the lucky man?"

  Daly's ears perked up. "What? You're getting married? Congratulations! Tell us everything."

  "Well, I have the both of you to thank, actually. After Mummy-Papa agreed for your match, I decided to be brave myself. I have been in love with this boy, Jimish, for a few years, but I thought Mummy-Papa would never allow for a love marriage, so I kept it a secret. After you both left Delhi, Jimish and I decided to discuss the possibility of our marriage. The astrologer says our stars match very well, and both sides approved."

  "Oh, Mishti, I'm so happy for you," Daly squealed, flashing back to her own wedding.

  "You've had a secret boyfriend all these years?" Kashi demanded.

  "Well, not since after you left for the U.S. We met in college. But you'd like him, bhaiya. He's a very good man."

  Daly shouted, "So when's the big day, or I guess days, since it's an Indian wedding?"

  "It's in one month, end of April. According to our stars, we have to marry before summer begins, or after it ends. We decided to marry as soon as possible. Why wait?"

  Daly gushed. "Congratulations! We can't wait to see you again!"

  "Before I can say congratulations, Mishti, we have to see whether your husband-to-be meets your big brother's approval."

  Daly playfully pushed him with her free hand. "Oh, Kashi, stop."

  "Yes, bhaiya. You should listen to your wife."

  ***

  Only a few days later, Kashi left for India to help tend to the wedding preparations.

  Daly stayed back to help Meghann get ready for her move. She would meet him in India a couple days before the wedding.

  "I'll see you soon," she said, as she gave Kashi a farewell peck on the cheek.

  "Is that how you say goodbye to your husband when you won't see him again for almost a full week?" He swept her up in his arms and gave her a deep, passionate kiss. They broke apart, and he headed toward the terminal.

  "Wait," Daly called. He turned to look at her. "It's just that we've never been apart for such a long time. I'm going to miss you."

  "Don't worry, we'll be together again in almost no time at all." He winked and continued into the airport.

  Chapter 18

  Some say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. They obviously don't know what they're talking about.

  Kashi repositioned himself in the tiny airline chair—the seats clearly not made for a man of his stature. Checking the in-flight monitor, he watched the little icon of a plane arc over the Atlantic Ocean. They were passing over Reykjavík now. Soon, the Boeing 777 would land to refuel in the Netherlands.

  He shifted his gaze to the cloudless sky outside his window. How long until he'd be allowed to call Daly? They hadn't even been apart for eight hours, yet he longed for her. The memory of her pale, silky skin and glowing eyes, and the brush of her lips across his, drove him mad. Her absence was almost too much to bear.

  The plane jerked, interrupting his thoughts. The seatbelt light flashed on, and the pilot's voice came over the loud speaker. "Ahh, we're experiencing a slight bout of turbulence. Ahh, should be all clear in a moment."

  Ding.

  Kashi settled back into his seat, shifting from side to side, trying to find as much comfort as the cramped space would allow. He stretched his legs as far as possible.

  The person beside him groaned and rolled his eyes.

  Kashi frowned and drummed his fingers on the maneuverable tabletop, then moved it into the upright locked position, drawing an exasperated grunt from the passenger in front of him. He filched the Sky Mall magazine from the seatback pocket and browsed through the colorful pages, trying to decide what oddity would most amuse Daly. The golden locket on page sixty-four looked perfect. He envisioned the bright, delicate chain caressing his wife's collarbone, the pendant plunging deep between her breasts.

  The jewelry maker offered custom engraving. She would like that, and he knew exactly what it should say: Trust in Fate, Daly. How far they had come since he'd ordered those same words for the placard in the zoo garden.

  The kiss they'd shared before saying goodbye at the terminal danced through his mind. What kind of kiss will an engraved locket earn me?

  Yes, he decided, earmarking the page; his Daly would love it.

  Chirag gripped the arms of his seat until his brown knuckles turned white. Turbulence rocked the plane, sending his heart into overdrive and causing him to flash back to another time.

  He sat in his car, climbing to the top of a too-tall rollercoaster, until it peeked out over the edge and hurdled down, down, down. Oh, God!

  Now he pictured the descent. He tried focusing on his breathing, but his mind kept flashing back to the vision of the airplane plummeting from the sky.

  No matter how many times he made this same flight, flying never got any easier.

  How could the airline authorities expect a chain smoker like him to go hours and hours without a bit of sweet relief? That was unrealistic, really. If he didn't have that delicious, soothing Newport between his lips soon, he'd probably have a panic attack. A medical emergency would be much worse than breaking a simple rule, right? Why did they have that silly rule, anyway?

  If
he was careful, no one would ever even know. He could sneak a quick one in the loo. Just crouch on the floor, exhale into the toilet bowl while flapping his hand, directing the smoke toward the flushable chamber, take a quick piss, and dump the whole thing into the sky.

  Easy. No one would ever know. Not as if he hadn’t done this before.

  Yes. Chirag pushed down the crowded aisle to the lavatory. He shut the door firmly and clicked the lock, which lighted the occupied sign. Oh yes.

  As he removed the single cigarette hidden within his wallet, he almost fumbled it into the toilet. The secret wallet compartment held a match, too.

  Just in case. For emergencies. This was an emergency.

  He struck the match and lit the cigarette. Ah, sweet relief! His plan had worked so far. No flight attendant rapped on the door. No air marshal dragged him down the aisle. Everything was fine.

  Another bout of turbulence shook the plane. Shit! Reflexively, he stamped out the cigarette, wrapped it in a wad of tissue, and pushed it deep within the bin.

  He rushed back to his assigned seat, tripping over a backpack on his way. Once in place, he fastened his seatbelt and held onto the sides of the metal arms to stabilize his position... and his nerves.

  No one had caught him.

  Kashi shifted again during the second round of turbulence. He forced himself to stare at the glossy image of the locket. Turbulence still unnerved him and sent his stomach into a lurch.

  A man rushed past him toward the back of the plane, tripping over Kashi's carry-on bag. "Wa-watch it," he growled. "Someone could get hurt!"

  Kashi shrugged and checked his watch. Wouldn't be too much longer now. He pictured the excited faces of his family at the New Delhi airport. He'd finally meet his future brother-in-law. Mishti would be a beautiful bride. The man had nothing to worry about. No matter his caste, age, or complexion, Kashi had already accepted him like a brother. If Mishti loved him, that was enough.

  His thoughts zoomed back to his own wedding a few months prior. Daly had looked breathtaking, that gorgeous maroon saree—his desire to unwind the yards of fabric until she stood naked in his arms—his fondest memory. Daly, his sweet wife—he longed to meet her at the airport when she flew in.

  He hoped she wore her saree to meet him. A smile curled across his lips.

  Daly held a green, pinstriped jumper out in front of her, imagining how cute little Eli would look in the onesie. Farther down the aisle, she spotted a matching cap. Too cute for words! She made her way toward the front of the store, ready to pay.

  Her cell rang. Normally she didn't answer calls from unknown numbers, but maybe this had something to do with her internship orientation.

  "Is this Daly Malhotra, wife of Akash Malhotra?" a businesslike female asked, horribly mispronouncing both their names.

  "This is she." Daly shifted the cell to her shoulder, holding it in place with her cheek. She dug through her purse for something to write with, ready to jot down any important information. She needed to believe that everything was all right. Perhaps if she acted normally, then…

  The woman on the other end of the phone took a deep breath. "I don't know if you've seen the news, but…"

  Daly froze.

  What? This isn't happening.

  "Listen, there's no easy way to say this…"

  Her chest tightened, and she dropped the onesie to the ground.

  Why is this person drawing the moment out? Can't we just rewind back to before this call? Before, before…?

  The airline official continued, finishing the horrible thought for her. "Flight 6045 crashed earlier today. All passengers are presumed dead, including your husband. I'm so sorry."

  Maybe if she wished hard enough she could make this go away. Maybe if she held her breath and never let it out again.

  "Mrs. Malhotra? I really am so sorry for your loss. There was a fire onboard, and an explosion. We think everyone died instantly and without pain."

  Everything was so great. Everything. Kashi. Everything.

  "Mrs. Malhotra, are you still with me?"

  "Yes." Using every ounce of her strength to speak, she stared straight ahead at the automatic sliding doors, opening and closing to let customers pass. "Thank you for the message."

  Daly couldn't turn away. Her wide eyes did not register the doors' gentle rhythm. Instead, they saw her husband, laughing and happy, bidding her farewell at the airport, vowing to see her again soon. They saw the plane falling from the sky like a meteor rushing to the earth, Kashi screaming, his strong body burned beyond recognition, the life force gone from within him.

  She shrieked.

  The cell phone slipped from her shoulder, breaking in half when it crashed on the tile below. The battery skidded across the floor. She curled into a ball and clutched her head between her knees, covering her eyes, attempting to escape from the horrible images. She rocked frantically, willing the motion to bring calm.

  Nothing helped.

  Her head rushed.

  He was gone.

  She shouted, yelled, and groaned. If she made enough noise, perhaps she could drown out her thoughts.

  The store clerk ran over to her. "Are you okay?" The teenage girl patted Daly on the back. "Do you need me to call someone?"

  Daly continued to moan and shake and cry. Her insides had been shredded, removed, and dumped into a boiling vat of oil. Her throat tightened, practically blocking her airflow. Tears and snot ran down her face in rivulets.

  The girl fitted Daly's phone back together and powered it on. "I'm going to call the last number in here, okay? You can talk to them."

  Meghann.

  When Laine picked up the phone, she hardly recognized Meghann's voice. The girl was disjointed and frantic, but she clearly made out three words—Daly, accident, baby store. Laine dropped her book and rushed out.

  She stopped only for a moment to pick up Meghann. They spotted Daly right away. She lay in a fetal position, writhing near the sliding glass doors. A small crowd of shoppers had gathered to gawk and speculate about her breakdown.

  "I think she's crazy," said a pregnant woman with curly brown hair.

  A young man shook his head. "She must be on drugs."

  "Maybe she had a miscarriage," a mother whispered, as she kissed the forehead of the curly-haired toddler straddling her hip.

  "Go away!" Laine shouted, rushing into the crowd and waving her arms. "This is none of your business. Get out!"

  Meghann ran to Daly and wrapped her arms around her. "Look at me," she said. "Daly, look at me."

  Daly raised her patchy face and squinted from slitted, puffy eyes.

  "Daly, we're going to get you out of here. You've got to stand up and walk with me, okay?"

  Daly nodded and stood, leaning into Meghann for support.

  Laine braced her daughter's other side. Together, she and Meghann escorted her to the waiting vehicle. Laine looked into her daughter's eyes and, without a single word, knew exactly what was wrong.

  She'd had the same look of death in her eyes more than thirteen years ago, when Oliver had stopped responding to the chemotherapy.

  ***

  Back home, Laine gave Daly an oversized tee shirt and silk bathrobe to change into. She ran a hot bath, mixed lavender-scented oils into the water, and positioned Daly on the edge of the tub, setting her feet gently into the soothing warmth.

  Meghann stayed with Daly while Laine slipped quietly into the other room to place a call. She couldn't ask Daly to do this. She needed to be strong and face the difficult emotions for her daughter. After all, someone had to inform Kashi's parents of the tragic accident.

  "What will we do now?" Meenu wailed. "He was our only son!"

  It was impossible to tell who was more upset, Daly or Kashi's parents—but then again, grief made a lousy competitive sport. She imagined how distraught she'd be had Daly been aboard that plane—never having the time to be the sort of mother her daughter needed, forever haunted by regrets, utterly alone in the world.
/>   "Please, Mrs. English, I must speak with my husband and our children. I'm sorry. Please...." Meenu choked off.

  "I understand," said Laine. The line clicked.

  Collapsing into a chair in the kitchen, Laine closed her eyes. The images she'd been trying so hard to repress came racing across her eyelids—Oliver happy, Oliver sick, Oliver's lifeless body being lowered into the damp earth.

  As if the loss of her son-in-law wasn't hard enough, now she had to relive the loss of her husband, too.

  He'd fallen sick when Daly turned twelve—eight years ago. Their nightmare had started so simply: Oliver nicked his skin shaving. Twenty minutes later the blood continued to pour from the tiny cut.

  ***

  Why won't it stop?

  At the hospital, the doctor ran some tests and then said the single ugliest word in the English language: "Leukemia."

  At forty-nine, Oliver had been handed a death sentence. A good man, he'd always taken care of himself and of others.

  What did he do to deserve this? Why?

  "We'll take it easy, enjoy the time we have left together," he said.

  "Hush now."

  Clearly, he was delirious. He couldn't bow to some silly invisible disease. He would fight.

  Laine would make sure of it. So she organized a complicated treatment schedule—oncologists, naturopaths, dieticians, physical therapists, acupuncturists, anyone who might be able to delay the inevitable, or by some miracle, prevent it entirely.

  She was so stupid to try.

  Oliver continued to slip away, and she never allowed herself to enjoy their time together. Everything became about measuring results and finding new options.

  For a while, he let her try. He'd always understood her needs far more than she understood his.

  One morning, she awoke from the uncomfortable hospital chair that had become her full-time bed to find him standing before her. He smiled, but he looked so, so tired.