The Color of Cold and Ice Page 22

  He took in another deep breath, holding it. Sixty seconds. He had used his heartbeat to count the seconds. No, more like thirty. His heart was beating particularly fast. It was now or never. He would ask for a gig. He knew her name now. He could buddy up to the guy who worked there, surely find out something. Make up for his stupidity about not getting her number when he had the chance in Amsterdam. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  It had been a month since he had seen her in Amsterdam. Every street he walked, he would look over the crowd, hoping to see her. How many Van Gogh paintings had he stood in front of at the Metropolitan and the Modern Art Museum, hoping she would miraculously appear? He put his right foot forward. The moment he first stepped into the icy cold water in Poland came back to him. It took all his nerve, but after he was in the water, his body relaxed, even felt warm. It would be okay, he told himself.

  He walked in, looked around, and studied each table. She was nowhere to be seen. He had been so nervous. His nervous hope was all for naught. He was next in line. “I’ll take a small black coffee.” The guy didn’t move. Mark recognized him. It was the guy who had given him the key. His eyes moved back and forth, from him to the room in the back, the one he had seen Chad come out of that day and ask for his mom.

  “A coffee, please,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, okay. Just a moment.” The guy stuttered. “I have to get something in the back.”

  The girls in line behind him didn’t seem to care. They were giggling, texting back and forth on their phones. Mark took in another deep breath. Deep breaths had become second nature to him these days. He grabbed his own phone from his pocket. He went straight to YouTube. How many hits had he got up to? He knew how Shelly felt now. The first thing she always checked in the paper were the reviews for Wicked. Would she be mentioned at all? He was just as obsessed. She had tried to call a couple more times after Amsterdam, leaving messages for him to call. When that didn’t work, she texted. He texted back, “I’ve met someone.” It wasn’t completely a lie. Maybe she had seen the video. At any rate, it did the trick.

  A final text. “I’m moving back to Oklahoma. Have a good life.”

  “U too.” He pressed send and removed her number from his phone.

  Close to two million now.

  “A small black coffee?”

  The voice was familiar. He looked up and froze. Didn’t that workshop teach him anything?

  “Long time, no see,” she said, a big, bright smile full of confidence plastered across her face.

  He fumbled, trying to get his mouth to move. “Yes, a long time.” She was radiant.

  “Let me get your coffee.”

  “No, wait.” He reached out across the counter and grabbed her arm. “When do you get off? Maybe we could go somewhere?”

  “Now. How about now?”

  “That’s great. You don’t have to work.”

  “I’m not on the clock. I’m just helping out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, my sister owns the Java Bean.”

  “Oh, well, that’s great.” Was he mumbling, repeating himself? “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Nice day for a walk. The park?” she asked.

  “The park is good,” he said.

  They walked along in silence. A YouTube sensation. Yet, he was as nervous as a teenager picking up a girl for his first date. She didn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, she had a sly smile on her face.

  “The Dakota,” she said, pointing.

  “Are you a Beatles fan?”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “What kind of music do you like?” he asked.

  “The sappy kind. Love songs mostly.” Her pace slowed as she turned to look at him. “I heard a really good one a little over a week ago.”

  “Oh? What was it?”

  “The Girl with the Cappuccino Smile.”

  He stopped, looking into her eyes. “Do you approve?”

  “How many girls get songs written about them?” She smiled.

  “I guess not many, in the bigger scheme of things.” He reached for her hand. It felt warm, soft, perfect.

  Small kids ran by them. Couples sat on blankets. Tourists, taking pictures with their smart phones passed with their I Love New York t-shirts. The smell of horses and leather wafted through the spring air as two mounted policemen trotted down the path. The smell of perspiration as some runners shot by them. A movie or television crew scurried about, setting up lighting near the bridge for some park scene. A crowd was gathering, trying to get a glimpse. More mounted policemen. Was that Al Pacino? Cell phones in extended hands, the ubiquitous selfies. A white carriage. A wedding party. Nannies with their charges. A barrage of life living to its fullest played out all around them, they at its center.

  * * *

  They sat at the same spot Mark had paused at that night in the cold, atop the infamous Umpire rock formation, witness to epochal events over millions of years, one of them — Mark and Em finally connecting. Written in stone, now. They laid back, letting the sun hit their faces, their hands touching ever so lightly. Serene, beautiful, like the couple Mark passed at the lake. He could easily grow old with her. He was going to grow old with her. It was inscribed on this very rock and in the stars, the swirling stars of Van Gogh. He had detected the same knowing in her, something in her eyes. A million song possibilities flooded his heart. He would tell her he was hopelessly in love on the third date. A definite plan. He had never had a plan concerning a woman before, nor regarding most life matters.

  “I have to get back.” The spell was broken. “Chad will be out of school soon.”

  “We could all do something together,” he said, like an excited little boy.

  “He would like that. I would like that.”

  “Okay, that will be our second date.”

  She smiled. “That would be nice.”

  Chapter 40

  White

  * * *

  PURITY, INNOCENCE. I’M complete. I’m the top of the spectrum, above the rainbow, somewhere over the rainbow, as Dorothy put it. I’m whole. I’ve reached my destination.

  I’m made anew. I’m transcended. I am the absence of color, yet I contain all the colors. I am the dimension beyond, that which is spiritual, that which is pure, that which is holy.

  I am the virgin, the sacrifice, the bride’s dress. I am the personification of cleanliness, the jacket of a doctor or lab worker, the robes of a holy man, the free flowing linen of a yogi or tai chi instructor.

  I am the divine trek.

  I am the color of cold, the color of ice, because I contain none of the colors, yet all of the colors.

  Chapter 41

  Everyone - Three Years Later

  * * *

  “HI, SYB. GOOD day, today?”

  “Ah, Em, every day’s a good day. Look at the bulletin board. I put up new paintings that the children did this morning.”

  “I see that. I like them.” She went over, pointing to one. “This kid’s got potential.”

  “How about you? Everything go well next door?”

  “Great. I stopped by to see you and to ask a favor.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Mark and I are taking some time off, and we were wondering if you could take on another child and a preteen at the day care while we’re gone?”

  “Well, I don’t normally take children that young or that old, but I guess I can make an exception in your case. I certainly made an exception for my own. Aqua can play along side John Chadwick. And Chad will be a lot of help after school.”

  “Where is John Chadwick?”

  “In the back room napping.”

  “I so wish Mom could have known you were pregnant, too, before she died. If only she would have lived another month. Do you remember the dream where you told me I would have twins?”

  “How could I forget? Who would have thought one of the babies would be mine? If only I could correctly interpret the dreams I have.”

  “Have
you had any dreams lately?”

  “No. They seem to have stopped. At least, the profound ones. About Mom, I’m certain she knows about John Chadwick. Call it intuition. I’m glad she got to see you and Mark marry and knew that you got pregnant shortly after. I’m sure she is laughing about you naming her Aqua. She is probably saying, ‘Oh no, another color’.”

  “Sometimes I used to get so mad about my name,” Em laughed. “And here I end up doing the same to my child. But, anyway, I told you Aqua represents water, not color. And it was Mark’s idea. He told me it was the color of ice. And Chad agreed.”

  “Whatever you say,” Syb said. “I think you were trying to cover all your bases. You had to get color in there somewhere.”

  “Well, we were going with John if it had been a boy. I’m glad you went with it.”

  “Had to name him John. I feel like Dr. Gray saved my life, along with Mom. Who knew I would be running a daycare and loving it?”

  “Life is strange isn’t it, Syb?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, your dreams, John being the one on duty the night Chad was taken to the emergency room, and me ending up marrying his brother, and you ending up having him as your doctor. Mom putting the idea of a daycare center into your head. Mark and I ending up with the coffee shop. Need I go on?”

  “I don’t know that life is so strange. I think the universe has a plan for us. It works out better when we listen. We’re on a divine trek.”

  “You’re right. We are.”

  “Where are Mark and Aqua now?”

  “He had to drop by the recording studio to sign legal papers. So, he took her with him. You know how they coo over her whenever he takes her to the recording studio. He loves it.”

  “It still throws me for a loop every time I hear The Girl with the Cappuccino Smile on the radio. Can’t believe that is about you.”

  “You of all people should believe it. You told me he wrote a song for me before either one of us ever heard it.”

  “And what about this new one he wrote? Will that be released soon?”

  “Should be. That’s why he’s at the recording studio signing papers.”

  “And it’s called The Bedroom? I don’t even want to think what hidden meaning is in that one. You promised you would tell me one day.”

  “Okay, if I tell you will you swear not to tell anyone? A reporter asked him the other day, but he kept his lips sealed.”

  “I swear.”

  “Well, if you must know, and mind you, I would only tell my sister this, it’s about where we officially met.”

  “Sounds rather riské. No wonder his lips are sealed. All this time, you told me you met him in the Van Gogh Museum.”

  “Exactly, in front of Van Gogh’s painting, The Bedroom.”

  Syb laughed and said, “So, where are you off to?”

  “Amsterdam, the honeymoon we bypassed for various reasons. Except, it’s more like a foursome, because John and Allison are going with us. John is planning to take the workshop firsthand. And Mark wants to take the training session. So in other words, Allison and I will be on a shopping honeymoon, while they go on to Poland. But the big thing is that Ben is celebrating his hundredth birthday, and we are all going to that.”

  “Wow, and how is he doing?”

  “In a wheelchair now, but still sharp. He was so thrilled when we wrote and told him we named our daughter Aqua Aya. He still talks about his twin sister, Aya, who died in the concentration camp as if he just left her yesterday.”

  “I’m surprised. You’ve said nothing about the Van Gogh Museum?”

  “You know that goes without saying.”

  “So Mark has totally conquered cold weather now?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as saying he conquered it.”

  “And you?”

  “I love the cold weather. If it weren’t for the freezing cold, Mark may have never come into the coffee shop that morning.”

  “What about the monkeys?”

  “The monkeys?”

  “You know. The monkeys,” Syb winked. “Has Mark moved past his fear of the flying monkeys?”

  “Oh,” Em laughed. “Yes, he left that behind long ago. Please never mention I told you that.”

  “Hey, I’m your sister. I will keep your secrets. So is Allison still renovating?”

  “Yep, still at it. Working on Molly’s room. They’re moving Benjamin out of the nursery into Little John’s room. He’s excited to have his baby brother in the same room.”

  “I saw her the other day at the office when I went in for a check-up. Oh, and I’m doing great before you even ask. Still in remission.”

  “I’m so glad. Hopefully, it will stay in remission. Allison loves working from time to time with John in his new integrative practice when she gets the chance, although, with three kids, well you know with the daycare center how that can be.”

  “And Franco and Josh are okay being in charge while you’re gone? I can look in on them if you want. Sometimes I feel like I dumped the coffee shop on you.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine. And, no, you didn’t dump it on me. Remember, you said divine plan — no divine trek. I like that. Besides, you know I love it. Franco and Josh do most of the nitty-gritty of the running of it. I’m just the big idea person now.”

  “Well Valentine’s Day is a good time to take a break.”

  “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “I must be interrupting plans you and Clark had for Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what I was thinking. I totally forgot we would be gone on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Could it be you forgot because every day is Valentine’s Day for you and Mark? But no worries. We had no plans. We will be perfectly content staying home with John, Aqua, and Chad.”

  “Did you know that Chad made his first heart on a latte yesterday?”

  “Yes, he told me. He was so proud. So, what will you do in Amsterdam besides shop and the Van Gogh Museum?”

  “Sightseeing and Mark plans on swimming in the canal while the weather is still cold. Of course he is taking his guitar. Plans on playing some songs with The Iceman. Who knows? Another album could come out of it.”

  “I should have known. One day, I think I’ll get there. I was there once, in the dream, at least.”

  “I remember. Why do I think you plan our lives in your dreams? Not that that’s a bad thing, considering it all worked out better than I could ever imagine.”

  “No, I don’t, well, not anymore. The last time I saw Mom, she said I should stop planning the lives of those around me and enjoy my own.”

  “Sounds like Mom. You never understand how wise your Mom is until you lose her,” Em said. “And strong.”

  “And happy. I’m sure she is happy.” Syb added.

  “Yes, happy.”

  “Especially, now that you have let your hair grow back out.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, just something she said to me.”

  Acknowledgments

  This is my second published novel, my third novel draft. I completed it during the 2015 NaNoWriMo, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. The one written in 2014 is still in the manuscript/editing form and hopefully will follow soon.

  This novel came as the result of several things. I was taking a writing class under Eva Shaw. She gave us an assignment to write as if we were a color. I chose orange. This book began with orange. I was so excited about the assignment that I wanted to do all of the colors. It didn’t hurt that my favorite artist is Van Gogh.

  Also, during this time, my husband and I were taking an online course under Wim Hoff, also known as The Iceman. This became a major part of the book. The characters emerged around the concepts of color and cold. Nothing was done in linear fashion. I started with Mark’s character, then added John’s, and then Sybil’s. New characters emerged, and hopefully they all took on a life of their own.

  The play, Wicked, also was significant in this novel. Seein
g the play in New York several years earlier was one of the highlights of my life. The flying monkeys are my favorite, although, they did scare me in The Wizard of Oz when I was a child.

  I am especially appreciative of my beta readers, Kim Daniels, Brenda Ricker, and Barbara Chambers. Their evaluations and insights helped greatly. I am grateful to Rosa Campbell who was there when I needed to ask medical and holistic treatment advice. I would like to thank my editor, Emerald Barnes, and would highly recommend her as an editor to anyone who might be looking for one.

  Thanks to Eva Shaw for the writing assignment and to Wim Hoff who greatly inspired me during the writing process, and to Van Gogh. And, to my husband, Chris, who supports and encourages me in my writing.

  About the Author

  J. Schlenker, a late blooming author, lives with her husband, Chris, out in the splendid center of nowhere in the foothills of Appalachia in Kentucky where the only thing to disturb her writing is croaking frogs and the occasional sounds of hay being cut in the fields. Her first novel, Jessica Lost Her Wobble, published in December 2015, was selected as a finalist in the William Faulkner - William Wisdom Creative Writing Competition. One of her short stories, The Missing Butler, received honorable mention in the first round of the NYC Competition. The Color of Cold and Ice is her second novel. Upcoming Works are: The Innkeeper on the Edge of Paris and The Missing Butler and Other Life Mysteries (A Collection of Short Stories).

  @athursdayschild

  J.SchlenkerAuthor

  https://athursdayschild.wordpress.com/

  jerrischlenker@gmail.com