Somewhere Between Black and White

by Shelly Hickman

  Frrrummmph! The fart machine ripped into the conversation.

  Christian paused a moment and then continued as if he hadn’t heard anything. “—er, I sold two pieces.”

  Abby’s friend, Edward, looked at Doris and darted his eyes back to his plate. “That’s excellent news, Christian. Abby, have you thought about purchasing some of his work for the model homes we’re—”

  Preeeeeewwwwwt! This one was a little tootle, sneaking its way out.

  Sam choked on his food and quietly thumped his chest a couple times with his fist.

  Edward busied himself buttering a roll. “Have-you-thought-about-his-work-for-the-models?” he rattled off, trying to finish his question.

  Aaron was giggling when his mother shot him a dirty look.

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Abby jumped in.

  The contraption was mounted underneath the table, right in front of Aunt Doris, but all this silliness failed to deter her from her meal. Sam turned toward Sophie, seemingly confused. Sophie wondered if Doris could even hear it, because she revealed absolutely no reaction. She was half deaf, after all.

  Abby continued. “Christian, would you be interest—”

  Fffrrrrrraaaaapft!

  Doris’s fork was midway to her mouth when she finally stopped for a breath. “Who the hell keeps fartin’?”

  The room erupted with laughter, and Abby got up to remove the machine from underneath the table. “Aunt Doris, it’s just a toy. See?”

  “Ohhh!” She responded with a cackle. She was not one to be prudish, and had always possessed an earthy sense of humor. “I thought it was Christian.”

  After most of the guests had gone, it was time for Sophie to give Aunt Doris a ride home. Sam opened the passenger door for her and hopped into the seat behind her.

  For a while, they spoke of how delicious the food was, which dish they couldn’t get enough of, and how miserably full they were. Then out of nowhere, Doris asked, “So when are you two getting married?” Doris had only met Sam hours before, and she was already asking about upcoming nuptials.

  “We’ve only been dating a few months,” Sophie answered.

  “You know, I was married five times.” Aunt Doris’s many beers had loosened her tongue. She pushed the sleeves up on her sweater, diffusing some cat hair. “My first husband, I had to get rid of him, though.”

  “Why’s that?” Sam asked.

  “All he wanted to do was eat it.”

  Sophie glanced back at Sam. Neither of them had a clue what she was talking about.

  “Eat it?” Sophie asked. “Eat what?”

  “Eat it! Eat it!” she repeated, becoming frustrated that they didn’t understand what she meant. “He was a cunt lapper!”

  Sophie’s mouth dropped. Sam snorted, stifling an outburst in the back seat. “Aunt Doris!” Sophie exclaimed in horror.

  “Well, he was. He hardly ever wanted to screw me. That’s all he wanted to do.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that a problem,” Sam joked.

  “Sam!”

  “I had the worst luck with men,” Doris continued. “You remember your Uncle Rex? I’m sure you’ve heard that he knew how to hypnotize people.”

  Oh no, no, no, Sophie thought. Where is she going with this?

  “When we were dating, he hypnotized me into some down and dirty screwin’. To this day I don’t remember it, but he had pictures. And so I ended up marrying him, just so I could get those damn photos.”

  Sophie grimaced and began to feel a little ill at the images that came to mind. Yes, she realized that Doris was an attractive woman in her younger days, but the woman sitting beside her had thinning white hair, a pot belly, and two teeth. She tried to think of something to change the subject, anything, but she was at a total loss for words. Sam seemed to think it was the best thing he’d ever heard, and only encouraged her by asking about her other husbands.

  “How did you meet your second husband?”

  “Oh, we met at a dance,” Doris answered. “He was a good dancer, too.”

  Finally, on to a different topic, Sophie thought.

  “But we didn’t do it very much,” Doris continued. “He was real big, you know, down there, so it hurt—”

  “Okay! We’re here,” Sophie interrupted when they pulled into Doris’s driveway.

  The two walked Doris to the door, passing her very large, unattended front yard that was sprinkled with weeds, and Sophie gave her a hug. “Merry Christmas, Aunt Doris.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Doris sang back. She turned toward Sam. “I want a hug from you too, handsome.”

  He happily obliged. “Merry Christmas, cutie.”

  “You hear that?” she asked Sophie. “He called me a cutie.” She giggled and went in. Numerous cardboard boxes could be seen stacked inside before she closed the door behind her. Sam raised his eyebrows at Sophie.

  “She’s a total packrat,” Sophie explained. “It’s like an obstacle course in there.” She exhaled, realizing how pent up she had been, anticipating what Aunt Doris might say next. She and Sam remained on the front porch. “I don’t know what was up with her tonight. I mean, she’s always said stuff that’s off color, but I can’t believe she felt the need to share all that. She’s not usually so descriptive.”

  Sam gently tugged on the lapels of her coat to pull her close. “Your relatives are awesome. I hope my kids have a family that’s okay with putting a fart machine under the table at Christmas dinner.” He touched her face and kissed her.

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s so,” he replied softly, his mouth lingering near hers. “Although, I would probably cover their ears when the term ‘cunt lapper’ was being thrown around.”

  Sophie let go an abrupt laugh. “Ohhh my.”

  He smiled, then asked earnestly, “Does that scare you?”

  “The term ‘cunt lapper’? Actually, it does scare me a little.”

  “You’re bad.” He chuckled. “You know what I meant.” He slid his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers cool from the night air. “Does it bother you that I think about you and me . . . and kids?”

  “No,” she answered serenely. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”

  Aunt Doris yanked opened the front door, startling them both. “Get a room, would you?”

  Sixteen

  The phone range as Sophie crawled into bed on Christmas night.

  “Sophie?” It was Evie. “Can you come over?” Her voice quivered as she spoke through her sobs. This must have been the mother of all fights.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Evie opened the front door wearing her bath robe, and her face was red and blotchy, her eyes puffy. “He’s not here.” Her hand pressed against her throat. “He went to a hotel.”

  “What is going on?” Sophie followed her sister to the bedroom. Evie plopped herself down on the disheveled bed and picked up the half-empty glass of wine that was on her night table.

  Sophie snatched it out of her hand and headed for the bathroom to pour it down the sink. “Are you serious? You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow!”

  “I don’t care.” Her hands rested lifelessly in her lap. “I already feel like shit.”

  “Just tell me what happened.”

  Evie looked up, and the anguish in her face hit Sophie’s chest like a sledgehammer. “He slept with someone.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  Evie nodded and wiped her dripping nose with her hand. “He told me.”

  “No, he didn’t!” That liar! And I nearly believed him. “Who? Was it Tara?”

  She shook her head. “That’s what I thought, but it was someone he met at his show the other night.”

  “But I thought you went with him.”

  “I did. But I didn’t stay. You know how late those things can go, and I was so exhausted.”

  Seeing her sister like this gave Sophie a burning hatred for Christian she didn’t think possible. A line from a Madeline Kahn movie b
urst into her thoughts, one that she had joked about in the past. Flames . . . on the side of my face . . . burning . . . heaving. . . . She had often remembered that scene when her students made her mental, making her smile when she was upset. It wasn’t even close to being funny now. Those feelings Christian had shared about Evie were just a load of crap.

  She got up from the edge of the bed and made her way around to the other side. She lay down beside Evie, in Christian’s spot, and took her hand. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Evie whispered.

  You don’t know? Sophie screamed silently. This is it! This has to be the last straw!

  “Sophie, thank you for asking me what I’m going to do. Instead of insisting that I leave.”

  Had Evie read her thoughts? “Sweetie, I don’t know what to say. When did he tell you? Tonight?”

  Evie went to reach for her glass of wine, confused for a moment when she realized it was no longer there. “No. He told me the night it happened.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to know during Christmas dinner. Christian didn’t want to come, but I didn’t want to have to deal with everyone asking me all night long why he wasn’t there. It was just easier.”

  “What did he say?”

  Evie’s face crumpled and the waterworks resumed. She picked up the box of tissues on her table, but had already emptied its contents. Sophie retrieved another from underneath the bathroom sink and brought it to her.

  “He said he’d made a horrible mistake. He had a lot to drink.”

  Sophie tried with all her might not to roll her eyes, closing them for a few seconds instead. Pleased with her ability to remain expressionless, she said nothing as Evie continued.

  “He was pretty loaded by the time I left, he’d been so anxious about the show, and you know he never drinks. Anyway, he told me there was this girl, barely in her twenties, fawning over his work.”

  Those flames were now scalding Sophie’s cheeks. How old was Christian anyway? It’s not like he was some middle-aged turd going through his proverbial crisis, not that that would have made it any better. He was only thirty-five, and this whole scenario so cliché.

  “I fawn over his work, don’t I?” Evie asked.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you fawn over his work! Don’t start trying to take the blame for this. He’s a grown man!”

  “I know, I know.” Evie lay flat on her back. “It’s just, he’s been trying to convince me to leave because he thinks he makes me unhappy. Sophie, I don’t think he gets how much I love him. Even now, after what he’s done, I get sick at the thought of life without him.”

  “Of course you do; you’ve been with him since high school.”

  “No! That’s not the only reason.” Her assessment clearly aggravated Evie. “I’m not like you, Sophie. I’m not practical. Deep down I’m a hopeless romantic, and even though our relationship has been difficult, I feel like I’m meant to be with him.”

  “Okay, I just want you to consider one last thing, and then I’m going to shut up about it.” She gave Evie’s leg an affectionate squeeze. “If he’s been encouraging you to leave, and I know this is hurtful, sweetie, but . . . maybe he’s trying to get you to do the thing that he wants, but doesn’t have the courage to do himself.”

  “Of course I’ve thought of that. Of course I have. Except, he told me he was certain this would be it for us. After what he’d done, it would be over. But now that he can’t take it back, now that it’s too late, he realizes he doesn’t want me to end it.”

  And what if he’s only trying to see how much you’ll put up with?

  “I don’t know what to do,” Evie agonized, throwing her forearm over her eyes.

  A small photo on Christian’s bedside table drew Sophie’s attention and she picked it up. “What’s this?” Not that she didn’t know what it was. It was a picture of Evie from high school, but she wondered what it was doing there.

  Evie avoided her gaze and sighed. “Nothing. You’ll just think it’s ridiculous.”

  Evie’s bright young face stared back from the photo, flashing her generous smile. Sophie turned it over to read the back. To the next Michelangelo, you’ll take this world by storm. Your friend, Evelyn.

  Sophie felt a twinge of sadness when she read the message.

  “Christian said he’s kept that in his wallet all these years. To remind him how much I believe in him.”

  The portrait Christian had drawn of Evelyn loomed behind Sophie’s eyes, that beautiful rendering he created from memory. He had to love her. Had to. But good God. He was a train wreck!

  “I’m sorry,” Sophie said. “I’m sorry I can’t seem to listen without telling you what to do, the way you need me to. I’m trying.”

  “It’s okay.” Evie sniffled. “I get it. If the tables were turned, I’m sure I would do the same.” She pressed her fingertips to her lids and then swept her palms across her face. Her skin looked a bit like a gala apple, with streaks of red overrunning the golden tones underneath, disguising her usual vibrant complexion. “Will you stay here tonight?”

  “Of course I will. I even came over wearing my pajamas. Can I get you anything?” She drew up the red and white plaid quilt and spread it over Evie, then sat cross-legged beside her.

  “No,” Evie answered dully. She paused for a moment, thinking. “Actually, yes. Think you could get Dad for me? I miss him.”

  “Me, too.” Sophie ran her palm along the surface of the blanket. “Christian’s really lucky Dad isn’t around right now.”

  Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Sophie, please don’t tell Mom about any of this. If Christian and I try and work things out, I don’t want her to think less of him.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Dad never understood Christian.” Evie closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. “Neither do you, for that matter. But he was always kind to him. Made him feel part of the family.”

  “Dad was kind to everyone. That’s what made him—Dad.”

  “Sophie, plenty of marriages survive infidelity, don’t they?” Her gaze briefly landed on the wedding picture on the dresser.

  “I don’t know. I suppose so. Look, we’ll talk this through, until you figure out what feels right. Maybe you should make one of those pros and cons lists.”

  Evie moaned. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else for the past three days, and I can’t think about it anymore. At least not now. I just had to talk.”

  “Okay. You wanna watch a movie or something? Something funny?”

  “I want you to tell me about Sam.” They both lay on their sides, facing each other like they did when they were little and couldn’t sleep.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you love him?”

  “Yes,” Sophie answered with a little grin.

  “Does he love you?”

  “He says he does.”

  Evie sighed. “That’s wonderful, Sophie.”

  “He also loves our bizarre family. You won’t believe what Aunt Doris said tonight when we drove her home.” Sophie retold the story verbatim, prompting Evie to unleash a belly laugh she had never heard come from her sister, except for maybe that day at laughter yoga.

  “She said that?” Evie asked in awe. “That is priceless! What did Sam do?”

  “Oh, he thought it was fantastic.”

  Evie continued to giggle uncontrollably, holding her stomach. “I can just picture the look on your face!”

  “Yeah, it was a little something like this.” Sophie attempted her most deeply afflicted expression, her lips drawn tightly and her eyes squinty. It was the same one as when she used to watch a particularly disturbing scene in The X-Files, but couldn’t turn herself away.

  “Ahhh!” Evie exhaled, finally subduing her outburst. “I really needed that.”

  A few minutes of silence passed between them. “Have you ever wondered about past lives?” Sophie suddenly blurted. She hadn’t planned
to bring this up, but somehow it popped out.

  Evie propped herself up on one elbow. “Past lives? You mean, like, those people who think they were once Cleopatra or Napoleon?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what, exactly?”

  “Uh. . . .” Sophie made a wry face. “You’re going to think I overdid it on the libations tonight.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that I also had a few too many, and you’re losing me,” Evie said, shaking her head with confusion.

  “Well, here goes.” Sophie paused to brace herself for Evie’s reaction. “I think Sam and I knew each other in another life . . . in the 1940s.”

  Evie stared blankly at her for a few moments, processing what she heard, before blowing out her amusement between pursed lips. “I am so glad you came over!” she gushed. “Where are you going with this, anyway?”

  Sophie would not join in the laughter, and Evie realized she wasn’t kidding. She put her hand to Sophie’s forehead, checking for a fever.

  Sophie jumped from the bed. “See? I knew you would think it was crazy!”

  “Well, I’m sorry, honey, but of course I think it’s crazy. You knew Sam? In the 1940s?”

  “I know! Right?” Sophie paced the floor. “It’s . . . it’s ludicrous!”

  Evie sat up on her knees. “All right, just back up here. First, let me be totally clear. You are not screwing with me?”

  “No.” Sophie folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not.”

  “Okaaay . . . okaaay.” Evie nodded, okay the only thing that would come out of her mouth.

  “I get these flashes,” Sophie explained. “They’re almost always the same. It’s this place, this place that Sam saw once, too. And Christian, believe it or not, drew a picture of it. And I always wondered why I have this love for old jazz. I mean, don’t you think that’s kind of weird? And there’s something about Sam, like he’s wise, like he knows and understands lots of things that I don’t, but he doesn’t tell me.”

  Evie listened with her mouth agape, concern for her sister beginning to show.

  Sophie stopped rambling. “I know how I sound right now. I do.”

  Evie scrunched her nose and curled her lip. “Do ya?”