The Color of Cold and Ice

by J. Schlenker

  She had brought the visit up casually to Clark. He had dismissed it. “Syb, hon, I can’t now, not with the promotion. Besides, are you up for it? A trip might take too much out of you,” he added. She let it drop.

  She wanted away from the Java Bean. Interest in the Java Bean had been waning for some time. She had gotten the business where she wanted it, and now it was losing its allure. She had reached the summit. What was left? At the same time, she knew if she didn’t keep a constant vigilance that the Java Bean could run down quickly, but the desire just wasn’t there anymore.

  She had always thought about selling half of the business to Em. At one time, Em had wanted to buy in but couldn’t afford it. Now Em could afford to buy into the business, but did she still want it? It could provide stability for her. But, she had met someone. Would that make a difference?

  There were so many things: the loss of a child, the loss of a nonexistent child, the cancer. It was a lot of stuff. She needed to clear her head. Her mind was already made up. Yesterday, she looked up airfares.

  At least, Dr. Gray said he would support whatever decision she made. Okay, she was making a decision, the decision to get a way. A change of venue might help her come to terms with her life.

  Seeing the sign for her street from the park, she placed her socks and shoes on her haggard but no longer tired feet. Her step had become lighter. There had been a release when she said the actual words to Em, “I have cancer.” That was the first time she said them, out loud.

  She passed a nail salon and was tempted, but Clark would be preparing dinner about now, something he recently started doing to lighten her load. It was a valiant effort on his part of trying to help her relax. After three days, he finally had learned where most things were in the kitchen and how to operate the stove. So the constant barrage of questions had ceased. They were maybe down to two or three per meal. He had even stopped yesterday for groceries. Clark was working hard at both the office and home. He could use a break. Her going to Florida would give him that.

  * * *

  She opened the door to their apartment, to the sound of a knife on a chopping board. Clark stood behind the counter over a prepared pizza crust with an assortment of vegetables chopped and ready to go on top.

  “How was your visit with Em and Chad?” he asked after kissing her on the cheek.

  “I only saw Em. Chad was fast asleep, worn out from the trip. Em said they would see us tomorrow.”

  “Oh, okay. I only have the olives left to chop. We’ll have wine with the pizza. Red wine, good for your blood.”

  “It is?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve always heard that,” he said.

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Sybil said. “Clark?”

  “What honey?”

  “I was thinking. You know I mentioned about possibly going down to visit my mom?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, but I can’t take the time off right now.”

  “I know, and that’s fine.”

  “What temperature should I set the stove at?”

  “Four hundred twenty ought to do it. Well, what I was thinking is that maybe I could go down, and if you could get any time off, you could come down later?”

  “What? I’m not sure if I could do without you.” He shut the oven door and reached out for her, holding her up to his chest. “Now, tell me, what has brought all of this on?”

  “It would be nice to see my mother.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure she would like to see you. She’s not sick or anything is she?”

  “No, she’s fine. You know, all wrapped up in her bridge tournaments and bingo. Honestly, I just think I would like to get away.”

  “Away from me?”

  “No, don’t be silly. Just away from the city, away from the Java Bean.”

  “But you’ve just hired two new people.”

  “Exactly, so now would be the perfect time to get away.”

  “I guess you’re right, but still, I don’t know if I could come down anytime soon.”

  “Well, we could play it by ear. If you can, it would be great. If you couldn’t, then in a couple of weeks, I would come home.” She paused. “I need this. Just to get away for a while.” To get away — from the doctor visits, and from her husband, seeing him everyday, keeping this secret from him. It would devastate him to think she kept this from him. What was she afraid of? That he would push conventional treatment. Sure, he always said he trusted her intuition, but when it came to this, he would be afraid. Dr. Gray referred her to another physician, a physician who wanted her to start chemotherapy right away. She wasn’t ready. She needed more time. But she had watched her father go down that road. She didn’t know if she could handle it. And what about Clark? Could he? Of course, he could. He would be there for her, but did she want to mess up his life like that right now? Right when he got a promotion? So many things. She needed a break. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

  The timer went off. He opened the oven door. “Yes, maybe going to see your mom is what you need. Does that look about right?”

  “It looks fine. I would worry though.”

  “I thought you were going to quit that.”

  “Who are you going to ask about how to cook?”

  “I guess I would ask the woman across the hall.”

  “Well, considering she’s in her seventies, I guess I wouldn’t be jealous.”

  “So, it’s decided? You’re going to Florida for sure?”

  “Yes, I think I’ve more or less talked myself into it. Tomorrow, I thought I might get a pedicure.”

  “Whoa, I can’t wait for that one.” He laughed. And, then there was a moment. He stood against the counter, oven mitt on his hand, and just eyed her up and down.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “You should shop for a bathing suit, too, you know.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “One of those string bikinis,” he said. “To match your new pedicure.”

  “You,” she huffed, embarrassed.

  “Well, can’t blame a guy. You look good. Maybe a little tired, but good.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Chad uncorked a bottle of wine and poured it into two glasses. Raising his glass to hers, he said, “If this is what you want, I’ll support you. Just promise you’ll come back to me.”

  She clanked her glass against his. “I promise — with some color in my cheeks.”

  Clark removed the pizza from the oven, cutting a piece for each of them. “Hey, what do you say we spread a cloth on the living room floor and eat this there, drink this whole bottle of wine, and maybe watch an old black and white movie on Netflix?”

  “I think you’ve become more romantic since your promotion, or maybe since you’ve become chief cook and bottle washer. I don’t know which.”

  “I think it was the thought of you in that bikini. Plus, I’m just trying to loosen you up a bit. If you’re going to be gone for a couple of weeks, we are going to have to throw a lot of loving in before you go to make up for all of those lonely nights by myself.”

  Chapter 38

  Sybil and Her Mom

  * * *

  “SYBIL, DON’T YOU think you ought to tell Clark?”

  “Mom, I’ve tried. Several times. And I will. That’s why I came here. I needed time to get away, to think.” Sybil curled up in her mother’s lap. The boney blue-veined hand with the bright red nails felt good combing through her hair, massaging her scalp.

  “I remember this,” she said.

  “I remember, too. Even though you were older, if you saw me swaddling Emerald’s head, you had to come lie in my lap as well, each of you on one of my legs, as I combed through both of your locks. I don’t know why Emerald had to get that boy cut.”

  “Mom, it suits her.”

  “You both have such thick, dark hair. Everyone would always compliment both of you on your hair. Oh, but if they only knew how you screamed after washing it and trying to ge
t a comb through it, especially Emerald.”

  “Maybe that’s why she cut it, all those years of torture,” Syb said with a smirk of a smile.

  Tears rolled down Sybil’s cheeks. “Now, I will lose my hair if I do chemo.”

  “Now, now, it will be okay. Syb, you have always been the strong one, but you also held it all in a wall of worry. That’s why you have the growth. It’s just one big ball of worry. You have to let it go.”

  “Mom, it’s cancer. It’s not that easy.”

  “I know. I know. But you’ll overcome this. Have you decided to do the chemo? When you first told me yesterday, you said you were adamant about not doing it.”

  “Dad didn’t overcome it. He did the chemo, the radiation. Look at all he went through. Look at all you went through taking care of him.”

  “I thought that’s why you might reject that form of treatment.” Her mom sighed. “So, do you know what you’ll do?”

  “Last night I had a dream.”

  “I trust your dreams, Sybil.”

  “You do? I always thought they kind of embarrassed you.”

  “Now, who bought you your first dream journal?”

  “You.”

  “Sybil, you need a plan. Whatever you decide, I will be right there beside you, as will Clark and Emerald. You have to tell Clark. He’s your husband. You can’t do this alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I have you. I have Em. And, I will tell Clark. You say I’m strong, but you’ve always been the rock of the family.”

  “Let’s start by you telling me about your dream.”

  “I was surrounded by children. They were all wearing bright, vivid colors. We were finger painting. Colors were smeared everywhere. I saw myself in the mirror. Paint was all over my face, my clothes. The children and I were laughing.”

  “Sybil, that’s a good dream, a hopeful one.”

  “Possibly, but maybe it means I’ve crossed over. I have the children I couldn’t have in mortal life.”

  Her mom laughed and continued to rub her head. “Besides worrying, you are also somewhat melodramatic. Funny, you would think Emerald would be that way. She’s the artist. But then Emerald lets it all out in her art.”

  “But she hasn’t been doing her art.”

  “Maybe not on canvases, but isn’t she always expressing it in some way or the other? Didn’t she practically design the Java Bean Factory? And she always kept it decorated and covered with art. And how about her latte creations?”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “But you, Sybil, you’ve locked your creativity up.”

  “What do you mean, Mom? I established a successful business in New York City, a coffee shop, when the city was already overflowing with them. And I had to compete with a Starbucks on every corner.”

  “True, but that was just it. You were so concerned with the numbers, the business end of it. Were you having any fun when you were doing it?”

  Sybil took in a deep breath and let it out. She raised up to face her mom. “I remember looking at the rough interior and exterior of the building and being excited about all the potential. At that point, I really felt alive. I remember the night I signed the lease. Clark and I opened a bottle of champagne and sat amidst the rubble, all the dirt and boxes that the former tenant left, and drank the whole bottle. I remember the next day questioning what I had done. What had I got myself into? I was so scared. I needed Em. I needed her creativity. I practically begged her to quit her job to help me.”

  “But you didn’t have to do much begging did you?”

  “No, she took one look at it and had a plan formulated in her mind. She said we will put the counter here. Art will go up over there. She was insistent on using orange. She said it would warm the place up. As soon as she started laying out the plans, I felt reassured that I had done the right thing. It was exciting at first. It was a mountain I had to conquer. But now, it has become a rut. You know, it’s Emerald that should be running the place, not me.”

  “Not necessarily true. You have the business skills.”

  “Yes, but Emerald could hire someone for that. The new kid, Franco, we hired has a definite flair for it. I thought about asking Emerald if she wanted to buy half. I also thought about seeing if I could rent the place next door. The old man runs a shoe repair shop, and he’s about to retire. Says everyone buys new shoes these days. It’s a good space, and it will be up for lease soon.”

  “Is that really what you want?”

  “No. I mean, expanding it would be nice. I could see it for Emerald. Possibly she could open an art studio or gallery there.”

  “Syb, it’s nice that you are thinking about all of these ideas for Emerald’s life, but don’t you think you should be concerned about your own right now? And, mind you, I said concerned, not worried. You have to quit all this worrying. Tell me, in your heart of hearts, and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. What do you want?”

  “A child. Or children.”

  “And what did you just describe in your dream?”

  “Children, happy children.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Finger painting. Spreading color and cheer. Laughing, playing.”

  “And you were supervising them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like a day care center to me.”

  “A day care center?”

  “Yes. Have you ever thought of that?”

  “No, never. They wouldn’t be my own children.”

  “No, but if that can’t be, it can’t be. Give it some thought. Being around Chad always gives you great joy, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, of course.”

  “I’ve noticed you around all children. You always light up. I never understood why you put off having them.”

  Sybil looked into her mom’s deep-set eyes. Although worn, they had the twinkle of wisdom and a mother’s love. “I should have been talking to you about this stuff a lot sooner. Clark and I both just let our careers get in the way. We kind of laid out a plan. We would accomplish this and then that, and then we would have children.”

  “You have to learn to enjoy life.”

  “You’re right. I may not have much of it left.”

  “Please don’t talk like that. I have gut feelings too, you know. A mother knows things.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Well, do you want to know what this old gal thinks?”

  “You’re not old. Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to know what you think?”

  “I think you have a lot to live for. I know that you will beat this.”

  “Mom, I think I’m going home in a couple of days.”

  “That’s fine. I love having you here, but I think you should. You need to talk to Clark.”

  “I know. And Em. And the guy who owns the shoe repair store before anyone else talks to him.”

  Chapter 39

  Emerald, Josh and Mark

  * * *

  “EM, HAVE YOU seen this?” Josh asked. Excitement permeated his voice. Josh wasn’t one to get too excited over anything.

  “Seen what?”

  “Over a million hits on YouTube.”

  “What is it?” Em asked. Josh was a computer nerd when he wasn’t behind the counter, always sitting at the table in the corner, the one Mark had sat at that day, with his laptop, iPad or iPhone and always with his earphones in. It was always this new band or that new band.

  “It’s a song,” he said. “And you should hear it.” He sounded particularly pumped up about this one. And, he was giving her a strange look.

  “Brace yourself,” he said.

  He handed her the earphones and his iPhone, while he sat in the chair, perfectly still, watching her every movement. She grabbed a chair and sat across from him with a slight roll of her eyes. Who was this band Josh was so gaga about? And why did he want her to listen to it? They rarely had the same musical tastes. She tapped the play symbol. She sat transfixed, her eyes gl
ued to the screen. Mark? The Girl with the Cappuccino Smile. Was that about her? Should she be so bold to think so? It was about her. She knew it. Everything in the lyrics said so. He described her to a tee. Well, maybe not the beautiful part. Did he really think she was beautiful? She hit play again. And again. And she had started the fourth round when…

  “Em, Em.”

  A tap on her hand. A voice in the background.

  “Break’s over. I have to get back to work. Heather is giving me the evil eye.”

  “Oh, oh, okay.” She removed the earphones from her ears.

  He retrieved his phone and put it in his pocket.

  “Wait,” she grabbed his arm. She fumbled in her purse for her phone. “Here, can you put that on my phone?”

  He smiled, giving her a knowing look, like they had just crossed over into the land of blood brothers when it came to music. No, more like some kind of look that said he had discovered a secret world about her, one that even she didn’t know existed. “I thought you might be interested.” A broad smile covered his face. He moved his finger across the screen typing into the keyboard and handed her back her phone. “It’s a good song.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Did you see the number of hits?”

  “No, I wasn’t looking at that.”

  “No, I would guess not.” He winked.

  * * *

  He passed by the coffee shop. How many times had he walked deliberately past it since he had been back? He had lost count, not that he was counting. Mark stood across the street, taking in a deep breath which turned into twenty, thirty. Letting the last one out, he stood in perfect stillness, just staring across for a glimpse of her. Nothing, just people, coming and going. Why would she even be there? She had quit. But still, he kept coming back here. It was where he first saw her. And she came back sometimes. He had followed her and the man after skating. And that was on Valentine’s Day. Had he been a date? Her husband had died three years ago. Possibly she had a boyfriend. He knew so little about her.