Somewhere Between Black and White (13 page)
Read Somewhere Between Black and White Online
Authors: Shelly Hickman,Rosa Sophia
There was no way this was level playing ground.
No one
had ever made her feel this way. No one. What a fool to believe
she would be okay if things fell apart.
Fifteen
Sophie’s mother was hosting one of her
fabulous Christmas dinners. Abby’s sister and her family were all in
attendance, as well as two of Abby’s friends. Her Aunt Doris was also present. At
ninety-four years old, she had all of two teeth in her head. How she managed to
put away a holiday dinner was one of life’s mysteries, but she could do it.
“Sweetie, would you keep an eye on the
gravy for me?” Abby asked Sophie as she pulled the turkey from the oven.
“How can I help?” Sam asked.
“You are not helping. You are a guest.” She
narrowed her eyes at him. “Take your drink and park yourself somewhere.”
He snuck up behind Sophie and put his
arms around her waist. “I get to sit down with a beer. You get to stir gravy.”
“Keep it up, dude. I’ll make you do
dishes with me later,” she said.
Abby turned from basting the turkey.
“No, you won’t.”
Sam shrugged and made his way into the
living room.
Evie wandered in and out of the kitchen
to collect the side dishes for the dining table, in between taking sips of wine.
“Evie’s drinking?” Sophie asked Abby
under her breath. She had noticed some definite tension between her and
Christian tonight, although Evie had been giving off a forced enthusiasm.
“Yes.” Abby gave Evie a sideways glance.
“I think she and Christian had a fight. She’s not going easy on that vino.”
“What are we talking about?” Evie came
up alongside them, glass in hand. “And Sophie, don’t give me that look. I
never
get to drink, and it’s the holidays.”
“Okay.” Sophie raised her hands in
submission.
“So,” Evie continued, “I haven’t had the
chance to talk to you alone yet, and I’ve been dying to ask. You and Sam did
it, didn’t you?”
Sophie dropped the spoon into the gravy.
Abby moved in closer and asked in a
whisper, “Did you?”
Sophie smiled and used a fork to fish
the spoon out.
“I knew it, Mom,” Evie said. “I could
tell.”
“Oh please!” Sophie heard her voice
getting higher. “How could you possibly tell?”
Evie responded with a low, knowing
laugh. “Oh, it’s obvious.”
“
Psh
. You are so full of it.”
“Well?” Evie persisted. “I’m assuming it
was great?” Abby leaned in once again, not wanting to miss anything as she
prepared the turkey.
“Could we please just. . . .” Sophie
began. “I am
not
talking about this now.”
Sophie’s young cousin, Aaron, strolled
into the kitchen with a little black box in his hand. “Aunt Abby, check out my
fart machine.” He pushed a button on the separate remote, causing it to emit a
variety of gaseous sounds.
“Oh, how lovely,” Abby said
half-heartedly. “And where did you get that?”
“Santa put it in my stocking.”
“Santa got you a fart machine . . .
Wonderful! And your mom let you bring it to dinner. Even better yet.”
“No,” Aaron answered with a grin. “She
doesn’t know I brought it. You have to let me play a trick on Aunt Doris. Where
is she gonna sit?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Abby protested weakly.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“C’mon, Mom,” Evie persuaded. “It would
be so funny.” She was obviously feeling that wine.
Sophie nodded with her in agreement.
“Both of you?” Abby asked in shock.
“Girls, I’ve got friends here. And Sophie, what about Sam? This is his first
time meeting your family. Aren’t you afraid he’ll think we’re weird?”
“Nope. He has a warped sense of humor.”
Abby deliberated, holding her hand to
her chest.
“Please, Aunt Abby?” Aaron begged.
She
waved her hand, signaling her surrender, and turned back to the food
preparation.
Later that evening, everyone seated
themselves in the dining room. Sophie’s mother had a knack for the finishing
touches—candles, poinsettias, crystal goblets, elegant place cards. But then
again, Abby was an interior designer.
“Wow, your mom really knows how to put out
a spread.” Sam took the seat beside Sophie while she kept a curious eye on Evie
and Christian sitting across from them. She noticed Christian occasionally touching
Evie’s shoulder or knee, only to have her squirm uncomfortably. They barely
said two words to each other the entire night.
“So, Christian,” Abby began, “I’m sorry
I couldn’t make it to your gallery show the other night, but how did it go?”
Evie gulped down the rest of her wine
and headed for the kitchen with her empty glass.
“Um, it was good. I actually sold two—”
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 burst 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?”
Sophie wished she had never said a word.
This was exactly why she hadn’t told Evie anything about it; she knew how
idiotic it sounded. “You know what? Just forget it. You obviously think I’m
just making this up. Or I
dreamed
it or something!” She climbed back
into the bed and flung the covers over the top of her before turning off the
lamp.
“Oh, come on now. Don’t be like that.” Evie
touched her shoulder as if they were having a lover’s spat.
“No!” Sophie snapped, now crabby. “You
needed to talk to me without judgment, and now when I need to tell you about
something that’s major in
my
life, but totally confusing, you wanna make
fun of me. Just forget it.” She flipped over and faced the wall.
Evie sat quietly and stared at Sophie’s
back. “You’re right. I wasn’t being very supportive. But Sophie, I honestly
thought you were messing around.”
