The Iridescent Rose

by Bill Pottle

and set the plate down on the side panel. I opened the knob to ‘LIGHT’ and punched the short red ignition button. A whoosh of flame came up to warm the blackened grate. I flipped the fish onto the grill and took in the tangy smell of limes mixed with soy. Lowering the cover, I was met with the sound of something whizzing through the air and then the smack of a hollow leather object hitting the fence.

  “And Mia Hamm scores again! The crowd goes wild!”

  “You did not, that hit the post!”

  “You’re just mad because you’re too slow.”

  “Of course I’m too slow to get the ball that goes outside of the goal. Who do you think I am, Gumby?”

  “Let’s see how you do against some real competition,” I said, charging into the yard.

  She shrieked as I ran towards her, then deftly flipped the ball between my legs and cut around me to retrieve it. My inertia carried me forward to where she no longer was, and she aimed her body to kick for the upper left corner, flicking the ball to the lower right after Luke had already left the ground. There was no disputing the goal this time.

  She retrieved the rebound and dribbled it between her feet, taunting me. Not bad for a nine year old. It was a good thing I didn’t have to play by the rules.

  “You might beat dad, but let’s see how you do against the TICKLE MONSTER!” I caught her then, tackling her and launching into a flurry of tickles next to the now-forgotten ball. I felt her stomach tighten as her whole body fought off the inevitable. “Daddy, no, that’s cheating! Hey! RED CARD.” I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice Luke shaking his head and taking off for practice. When Esperanza was gasping for breath, I got up, reclaimed the ball, and shot off five quick goals.

  “The winner!” I said, thrusting my hands in the air as she flashed me a look dripping poison. It soon changed to a smile. Esperanza could never stay mad for long. The smile drained from my face too. For the briefest moment I had forgotten the gnome’s curse, and had enjoyed the pure pleasure of spending time with my daughter. I had expended energy, energy that could not be replenished without sleep.

  It was worth it.

  The salmon pieces were slightly burned by the time I brought them to the table inside. Jamie had baked biscuits and opened a frozen package of mixed vegetables. It only now occurred to me that I might be looking upon my last meal.

  “It’s wonderful!” I said, drawing one of Jamie’s eyebrows upwards. “Sometimes we just need to be thankful for everything we have,” I answered. “Now, where is that bottle?”

  I went to the wine rack and withdrew our best bottle of German Riesling. There was no use saving it for anything now. “Ah, yes. This will do nicely.” I uncorked the bottle and poured out a glass for Jamie and I. She was now looking down at her napkin, worried perhaps that some anniversary had inadvertently slipped her mind.

  “Every day is special,” I said.

  Sitting there, breaking off flaky chunks of peach-colored fish, I wanted to tell them everything. But somehow it didn’t feel right without Luke there. I would tell Jamie privately, after dinner. We could tell the children later.

  I ate my piece and half of another before I realized how hungry I was. The sweetness of the honey, the tanginess of the lime, and the soft dough of the bread saturated with butter all jumbled together in my mouth, and the cool apricot of the Riesling washed it all down.

  We talked about their day, and Esperanza’s school project, a diorama depicting the life cycle of a butterfly.

  I would tell her after dinner.

  After dinner Esperanza raced off, leaving Jamie and I alone with the dishes.

  She got up and started scrubbing at the sink, while I cleared the rest of the table and wrapped up the leftovers, leftovers that I would never eat.

  I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her slender waist. I parted her hair and gave a light, dry kiss to the side of her neck right under the point of her jaw. She squirmed in my arms and continued working above the forceful stream of ejected water. I just held her then, letting her body sag tiredly into mine, feeling the warmth of the blood coursing through her flesh, the energy liberated from previous meals transferring irreversibly to heat. The heat sustained us, but slowly set our universe on a course for homogeneity. Or so the scientists believed.

  I gave her a stronger peck, lower down by her shoulder, this time tasting the salty twinge of her skin and the unique flavor that distinguished her from everyone else.

  She spun in my arms to face me, soapy form dripping from her hands like whipped cream. The suds were warm on my cheeks as she slid her hands up to my jaw and drew me down towards her. She kissed me full on the mouth, and I could still notice the faint aftertaste of the Riesling.

  “Hey now,” she said, giving me a playful slap with her delicate hand. “There’s time for that later. Right now there’s work to be done.”

  Staring into her eyes, I really wanted to tell her. I swear I did. I just couldn’t do it right then. I could imagine the confusion in her eyes that would come when she still thought it was a joke, followed by the way her mouth would sag, at the corners first and then her lips would fall as the muscles in her face all went slack. The tears would start to come…

  Suddenly, an idea forced itself into my mind. It was crazy, but it might be my only chance.

  She turned back to the dishes and I stared at her back and the shimmering hair that hung limp from her head. If it only worked, then I wouldn’t have to tell her at all.

  It was so simple I was surprised that I hadn’t thought of it before.

  Somehow, the hours after dinner passed quickly and it was soon time for bed. Well, it was time for bed for the others. My last time for bed had passed already. But I was pitching all hope, the last wild hope of a condemned man, on my new plan.

  I would return to the spot the next morning and bargain with the gnome.

  Esperanza went to bed first. I tucked her into her Beauty and the Beast sheets and prayed with her.

  “Daddy,” she said. “I don’t know if I want to be ten yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems like twice as old. Because I have to use two numbers now.”

  “That’s true,” I said, a hidden tear pushing against the portal of my eye. “But growing up gives us new things also. You can’t be a professional soccer player when you’re nine. Even Freddy Adu was fourteen.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding. “That makes sense. Goodnight, daddy!”

  “Goodnight,” I said, kissing her on the forehead. Everything was so simple for her.

  Luke held onto his Power Ranger sheets even though he was too old for them. It’s hard to dissuade an athlete from something he considers lucky.

  He was tucked in and ready to go. “How was practice?” I asked. It was his favorite question.

  “Okay,” he grimaced. “I drew two people into my spin hook but Sabumnim kept getting me off the line and I couldn’t houjin.”

  Amazingly enough, I almost understood what he was saying. It was a rare gift, I suppose, being able to understand the language of one’s children. I had spent enough time in his school and he talked about the sport so much, I knew most of the lingo, even if I couldn’t speak it myself. It was not unlike immigrant children who grew up understanding their native language but were not comfortable speaking it.

  I smiled and looked at him. “You’re going to be great.” I know I was looking through a father’s eyes, but I believed it. I really did.

  “Thanks,” he shrugged. “But I need a lot of work. And rest.” He finished his hint with a genuine yawn.

  I got up and left him, smoothing the sheets in my wake.

  When one is confronted with the last day of one’s life, one usually thinks of the big things. But it’s the details that force their way in out of habit. It’s the minutiae that make up the majority of our everyday lives. There’s no rational reason why I should have bothered to brush my teeth, but for some reason I did. Maybe I ju
st didn’t want Jamie to be suspicious. The minty toothpaste helped chase away the burst of heart-stopping citrus that lurked inside of the can of Red Bull I had just chugged.

  I held her in bed. Her tired body melted into the mattress, her hair a mop on my chest. Her head bobbed up and down with my breathing.

  I loved her so much. No matter what, I had to convince the gnome to let me have another chance. I would never be ready to say goodbye to her, but after a long life, it might be more palatable. Perhaps it was only because it was far in the future, but I could bear to imagine our withered bodies holding fast before a fire gently roaring in the hearth, sipping steaming tea and reminiscing on our lives and the lives of our grown children before slowly slipping into blackness together.

  I got up from bed, muttering something about insomnia. She was drowsy enough to believe me, and I slipped from her embrace, gently substituting a pillow for where my chest had been.

  It broke my heart that that pillow would be the only comfort she would have for many cold years. Whether or not heaven existed, there was no doubt that after death I would be so far from her for so very long.

  I turned on the computer and tried to find something about the gnome, some way to ensure that he appeared or to trick him into giving my life back. I kept the iridescent rose in water— maybe if he could reattach the stem he would reattach mine as well. Shortly after four a.m., I gave up. So much useless information existed on the internet, and the one vital