Somewhere Between Black and White (2 page)

Two

 “I’ve got some things to drop off for
Mom’s birthday party,” Sophie offered when her sister answered the door. Wearing
an oversized buttoned shirt sporting paint stains, Evelyn’s dark hair was
pulled back, with a few strands spilling around her face. Even when doing grunt
work, she was beautiful. Her sister had always been the gorgeous one, Sophie
the cute one. Evelyn, long chestnut hair, dark eyes. Sophie, blue eyes, golden
curls.

Evelyn was painting the living room.
Christian, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

Sophie dropped the bags at her feet.
“Are you kidding me? Why isn’t he doing this, or least helping you?”

“Sophie, don’t start,” Evelyn replied as
she pushed the hair from her face. “I enjoy doing it. Besides, his mom wanted
to take him to dinner. He’s having a bad day, so I thought he should go.”

A bad day? He does nothing!
Sophie
picked the bags back up. “Un-frickin-believable,” she muttered as she headed
toward the kitchen. “Why are you doing this now anyway, two days before the
party? Couldn’t it have waited for another time, when I could have helped you?”

Evelyn followed her and started
unloading cups, plates, and plastic ware. “It’s one room. It’s not a big deal. I
just want the place to look nice.”

“Sit your butt down, Evie,” Sophie
ordered in a softer tone. Evelyn plopped herself into a black Windsor chair.
“You’re hopeless, you know that? What am I going to do with you?” She waved a
bundle of asparagus.

Her sister gave a weary smile and rested
her temple on her hand. “Shut up, brat, and pour me an iced tea.”

Sophie did so and sat across from her.
She gave Evelyn a long stare.
How many times did they have to have this
conversation?

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Sophie, I’m not
in the mood for this. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because it’s ridiculous! Look, it’s not
like I don’t have compassion for the guy.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Sophie
answered in her sweet, but slightly superior manner, lifting her chin just a
tad. “But how stinkin’ hard is it to swallow a pill? I mean, seriously. You do
everything around here, not to mention support him. Oh, and his mother. Don’t
get me started.”

“I don’t do everything,” Evelyn argued. “And
no one is getting you started, Sophie.
I
don’t want to talk about it, remember?” She
rose from her seat, stomped into the living room, and picked up the paint
roller she had left in the pan.  

Sophie followed her with her hands on
her hips, wanting to say more. As her sister vigorously rolled the sage colored
paint on the wall, she suddenly felt guilty for lecturing her. This was a
conversation they’d had countless times, often with their mother in the mix.
Those were the times Evelyn hated the most, because she felt so outnumbered.
Still, nothing ever changed.

Sophie dropped her arms, turned toward
the kitchen, and finished putting party supplies away. Why did something so
simple have to be so hard?

Three

Instead
of grading quizzes like she had planned, Sophie went to the market to stock her
kitchen. She had been getting by on way too much junk, and it wasn’t a habit
she wanted to feed. Having already gained three pounds, she needed to get back
on track.

She grabbed one of the tiny carts just
outside Trader Joe’s and pushed it inside, the distinctive aroma of produce and
vitamins welcoming her. She liked it here because of its quaintness. Small
chalkboards stood at the ends of the aisles, listing any new or unusual
products.

Fresh flowers and other plants lined the
wall next to the entrance, and she steered her cart in that direction to scan
the selection. She didn’t usually splurge on nonessentials, but chose some
sunflowers. After all, it was her mother’s birthday gathering tonight.

Navigating a little farther, she threw
in a bag of spinach when the wheels of her cart began making a tremendous
racket. Once again, she had chosen the defective one. It fooled her into
thinking it would be agreeable, then commenced with its rattling and squeaking once
it was too much trouble to get another.

While playing mechanic to her ailing
companion, something prompted her to turn around. Just a few feet away stood
the man from the convenience store the week before. Unaware of her, he was
perusing the cold cuts.

Suffering the same weird nervousness,
she backed into the tomatoes and knocked several of them onto the floor. “Dang
it!” She sighed. Bending to pick them up, she glanced over to discover him
collecting them, too.

They both rose to their feet, and an air
of recognition came over his face. “Hey. You again.” He grinned and handed her
two large tomatoes.

“Yeah,” she said and put them back with
the rest. “Thanks.”

“Do you. . . .” He began hesitantly. “Do
you live in this part of town?” He eyed her as if he felt that he knew her.

“Yeah, I do. You?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. That’s
pretty strange, isn’t it, that we ran into each other clear over in Green
Valley?”

“Pretty strange.” Sophie became
painfully aware of her tattered denim shorts and the bruises on her shins. From
the time she was a child, her nickname was Grace because she was forever
running into things. She was certain furniture legs lay in wait for her, just
so they could catch her pinkie toe. “Anyway, thanks again,” she said, pointing
to the tomatoes. “I hate tomatoes. They must have sensed it and assaulted me.”

He chuckled. “You’re welcome. I’m Sam,
by the way,” he said and offered his hand.

“Sophie,” she replied as they shook. Her
hand in his was the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Sophie,” he repeated. “I like that—it
suits you.”

How would he know what suits me? He
doesn’t even know me.
She simply smiled without responding,
then withdrew her hand. They lingered in silence a few more moments.

Unaware that their carts were blocking
the aisle, they were interrupted by a middle-aged woman wearing way too much
make-up. She sighed dramatically. “Do ya
mind
?
”

With apologies, the two retreated. Sam’s
eyes followed the intruder as she passed between them. “Pleasant woman,” he
joked once she was out of earshot.

“Isn’t she, though?” They both shared a
laugh.

Sophie picked up a tomato and turned it
in her hands a few times, before setting it down and reluctantly turning back
to her cart. “Well, it was nice meeting you. I guess I’ll see ya,” she added,
thinking that was an odd thing to say.

“I hope so, Sophie.”

She smiled to herself as she went on her
way, pushing her noisy sidekick.

Four

“Abby,
you look absolutely gorgeous!” Edward gushed to Sophie’s mother as he arrived
at her birthday celebration. One of Abby’s best friends, he dipped her in his
arms and planted a smooch on her lips. “And I’m not even going to say
for
being sixty
. You’re just flat out gorgeous, honey.”

“Ah, flattery will get you everywhere,
my friend.”

Abby was the personification of one word—class.
Even when wearing jeans and a T-shirt, there was elegance about her. She was a
person whose smile and laugh came readily, and could make the most neurotic
person in the world feel at ease.

“Where are those two beautiful daughters
of yours, anyway?” Edward asked as he scanned Evelyn’s small but charming
backyard, which was decorated with little white lights draping the pine trees.

“They’re right over here. Girls! Come
say hello to Edward.”

Evelyn and Sophie walked over and welcomed
him with hugs. With an arm around each of them, he proclaimed, “Abby, your
girls are so lovely, they make me wanna switch teams!” At that, Evelyn blushed,
while Sophie let out something close to a cackle.

“Edward, you are too much!” Sophie
replied. “What can I get you to drink?”

“You know what I like, honey,” he said
with a wink.

“Coming right up.” Sophie wandered into
the kitchen where Christian was standing, clearly tortured in his own home.  

“What’s up?” Sophie asked, slapping him
on the back.

“Hey, Soph.”

She did sort of feel sorry for the guy,
pitiful thing that he was, but she often wondered if much of his manner was for
show. She supposed only Evie knew for sure, and maybe his mother as well.
Christian had conventional good looks—thick, wavy brown hair, nice skin. In
Sophie’s opinion, he had no personality whatsoever. Evie must have seen
something in him that Sophie didn’t. He never drank, which was probably a good
thing due to whatever mood issues he had. But at the same time, Sophie thought
he could use something to loosen him up.

“So whatcha been up to, Christian?”

“Not much,” he answered. “Been helping
Mom around the house, doing some yard work.”

“Really?”
How
nice. You can help your mom with yard work, but you can’t help your wife
with your own damn house!
Making an effort to
have a positive conversation with him wasn’t going to happen here. Now she was
just pissed off. “Well, I gotta get this drink over to Edward.”

As
she passed her mother, they exchanged meaningful glances. Abby approached her
son-in-law to attempt her turn at friendly dialogue. Maybe she would have
better luck than Sophie.

Later that evening, Sophie sat with
Lisa, her friend and fellow teacher, as she picked at a bowl of Chex Mix.

“Come on. It’ll be fun,” Lisa persuaded.
“I’ve been married five years, and I still get out more than you do.”

“So what? Why is it so important that I
get out more?”

“Well. . . .” Lisa hemmed and hawed. “Jerry
has a friend I want you to meet.”

Sophie ended her search for melba toast
in the Chex Mix and gave Lisa an annoyed sigh.

“Just agree to meet him,” Lisa added.
“He’s a cool guy.”

“I’ll go, but only if you promise not to
fix me up,” Sophie insisted. What was it about married people and their deep-seated
desire to pair up their single friends?

“You haven’t dated anyone for at least
six months,” Lisa pointed out, as if it were some atrocity.

“Lisa, I’m tired. I think you’ve
forgotten what it’s like, and the last thing I want to do is meet some guy in a
bar.”

“Oh, give me a break! You’re not going
to be meeting
some
guy
in
a bar. It will be someone that Jerry and I know, and it will be at Murphy’s. Remember
Murphy’s?” Lisa jibed, poking her in the ribs. “We used to go there all the
time when we were in college.”

“
Ughhh
,” Sophie groaned. “No set
ups. It has to be casual.”

“They’ve got Karaoke now,” Lisa said in
a sing-song voice.

“Is that supposed to entice me, or make
me run away screaming?”

“Okay, no set ups. Some others from work
will be there too, so it will be very casual.”

Sophie sipped her drink and watched Evie
approach Christian across the room. He looked nauseated, stressed and
self-conscious. Evelyn reached up and lovingly straightened his collar as if he
were a little boy, and then said something that seemed to put him at ease. He
grinned stiffly and put his arms around her.

Sophie was fascinated by their dynamic,
wanting to be a fly on the wall to their conversation. Anything to understand
why her sister stayed in this relationship.

Evie cocked her head and gazed up into
Christian’s face, asking him something. His smile disappeared, and so did he as
he retreated to the bedroom. Evie nervously skimmed the room and when her gaze
met Sophie’s, Sophie averted her eyes, pretending to be ignorant of the
exchange.

Christian wasn’t seen for the rest of
the evening.

***

Hours later, Abby and Sophie remained
after the party to help Evelyn clean up.

“The party was just lovely, girls. Thank
you so much!” Abby said, blowing out the candles on the dining table.

“It did turn out really nice, Evie,”
Sophie added, bringing serving trays to the kitchen sink.

“It did, didn’t it?”

“So, what’s up with Christian?” Sophie
asked. “Why did he leave the party?”

Abby lowered her eyes and continued
putting things away.

“Oh, that. . . .” Evelyn waved off her
question. “He was just having some stomach problems is all.” She bent down to
pick some popcorn off the floor.

“Are you sure?” Sophie pressed. Their
mother gave Sophie a
drop it
signal,
which Evelyn noticed.

“I’m sure. Look, why don’t you guys head
home.” Evie tossed the popcorn into the waste basket. “Everything’s pretty much
cleaned up anyway, and I’m beat.”

“Sweetie, why don’t you go on to bed,
and Sophie and I can finish cleaning up,” Abby said, rubbing Evie’s back.

“Thanks, Mom, but it’s fine. I’ll get
the last little bit tomorrow.”

“I’ll come by in the morning and help
you,” Sophie offered.

“No. Don’t.” Evie held up her hands. “Just
. . . it’s fine. Okay? You two go on home and get some rest.”

Sophie
and her mother shared another glance. “Okay, sweetie,” Abby said as she
gathered her purse and headed for the door. Sophie stayed put for a moment,
unconvinced, until Abby motioned for her to follow.

***

Evie sighed with relief as she watched
her sister and mother leave. When she reached her bedroom, Christian was
sitting motionless on the bed. She passed him without saying anything and
headed to the bathroom. Her joints were screaming, and all she wanted to do was
throw herself under the covers.

“I’m sorry I left tonight.”

“Christian, I’m exhausted. Let’s just
forget about it, okay?” She tied her hair back into a ponytail and shoved her
clothes in the hamper.

“You need to lose me, Evie.”

He still hadn’t moved. Evelyn sighed and
walked over to the edge of the bed to sit next to him, putting her hand on his.
“What have I told you? No one is leaving, so stop being ridiculous. I can’t
even imagine my life without you.”

His eyes were glassy. “You deserve
better.”

“Stop.”
Why
can’t you just take the medicine? Why?

“Evie, I want to.”  It was as if she had
verbalized her question. “It’s just . . . the way it makes me feel. It’s like I’m
dead. I feel nothing. I can’t work like that.”

He was referring to his art.

Christian had taught at the university,
but he lost his position due to his instability. He had a magnificent
talent—everyone agreed upon that. He could create colored pencil drawings like
no one had ever seen. They didn’t even resemble pencil; they were more like oil
paintings. But he never did anything with them. He never showed them to anyone.

He put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed
it gently. “You’re hurting, aren’t you? I can tell.”

She blinked, her heavy lids signaling it
was closing time.

“You lie there a couple minutes while I
run you a hot bath. Then I’ll give you a massage.” He headed for the tub.

“No, Chris, it’s late.”

“No arguments,” he called from the
bathroom. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Evelyn lay back on the bed and listened
to the water run, wondering if she could continue to live this way, but her
devotion to Christian ran as deep as the despondency in his eyes. She wished he
could be happy. Be comfortable in his own skin. Just . . .
be
.

Tears flowed down the sides of her face
and dripped into her ears. Was it possible for a person’s hair to hurt? Because
she was certain that even her hair had nerve endings.

“You ready, babe?” 

Evie quickly wiped her face and sat up,
forcing a smile for her husband.

“Yeah.”