Dreaming In Color

by Charlotte Vale-Allen

  Melissa's departure had been forgotten. "C'n I go, Mom?"

  "Are you sure it's not going to be too much trouble?" Bobby asked Eva.

  "We'll manage," Eva said curtly, anxious to have the matter settled. She loathed belaboring points, and Bobby seemed congenitally unable to take certain things at face value.

  "Well, okay," Bobby said. "But I'm going to have to run out and get her a bathing suit. It won't take me long."

  "That'll be fine," Eva said. "You go ahead and do that."

  As excited now as she'd been forlorn minutes before, Penny was already running to get her coat, urging Bobby to hurry up. Thrown as always by the contradictory aspects of Eva's nature, Bobby went for her purse, not at all certain Eva actually wanted to do this.

  But when they returned from the shopping center and Bobby ventured to ask Eva again, "Are you sure it'll be okay?" Eva quite sharply said, "I told you I didn't mind. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

  "If it's okay," Bobby said very quietly, "why're you getting so mad?"

  "When I say I'll do something," Eva answered, "I very much dislike being asked if I'm sure about it. I don't say things simply for the sake of hearing myself talk. You really must learn to take me at my word."

  "That's hard to do," Bobby said, "when you act so mad."

  "I'm not mad," Eva declared firmly but with a smile. "I wish you could accept things as they are. I am not in the habit of saying things I don't mean. And by the way, before I forget, I've got a health insurance application for you to fill out." She got the file from the top of the refrigerator and placed it on the table. "The sooner we get this in, the sooner you and Penny will have coverage."

  "Okay," Bobby said, eyes on the application.

  "As I told you at the outset, I'll pay half the premiums."

  "Okay."

  "I'm not mad," Eva insisted, wishing Bobby would stop behaving like a whipped dog. "Don't you think if I were I'd tell you?"

  "I don't know if you would," Bobby said, meeting her eyes.

  "Well, I would," Eva told her. "I know I'm not like anyone else you're used to, and I know I often give the impression of being angry when I'm not, but I think you've been here long enough now to know that I mean what I say. Penny needs a little distraction, so I'll take her with us this afternoon. If I thought it was too much trouble, I wouldn't have suggested it. Tell me something," she said, pausing to catch her breath. "Have you always been like this?"

  "Like what?"

  "So in need of reassurance," Eva said.

  "Mostly I'm like that with you," Bobby admitted. "And with Dennis, a bit. But that's different."

  "I'm sure it is." Eva laughed, and at once regretted it. "Don't take that the wrong way," she said quickly. "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that dealing with men is always different. Look, I'm going up to the office for a couple of hours. Don't forget to fill out that application. All right?"

  "All right."

  "By the way, does Penny know how to swim?"

  "Uh-hunh."

  "Well, good. Fine."

  "It's really nice of you to take her," Bobby said.

  "It's nothing," Eva said dismissively. "It'll give you some time to yourself. We all need that."

  "I guess so," Bobby said.

  Eva took some chicken breasts from the freezer and set them on a plate on the counter to defrost, then left. Bobby stood for a few minutes listening to the silence of the house. Alma was in the living room reading the Times. Penny was downstairs in her new bathing suit watching cartoons on TV. The house felt all at once lifeless without Melissa. It seemed that Eva was as distressed in her own way as Penny was in hers by Melissa's leaving. That's what it was, she decided, heading downstairs to the apartment. That's how come Eva got so sharp with her.

  That afternoon while they were gone, Bobby drove over to the supermarket to get the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. And then, giving in to an impulse she didn't stop to analyze, she bought Eva a bouquet of yellow daisies.

  As she drove home, she thought about Eva and decided they were, one way or another, working things out between them. She was no longer quite so crushed by Eva's mood-swings; she was beginning to make sense of the woman.

  Eva knew now she wasn't going to go back to the book, but she couldn't bring herself to take the final step and erase the disks. Five minutes would do it, and the whole thing would be over. She stood for some time staring at the computer, then at the disks. Turn on the machine, depress a couple of keys, and that would be that. But she couldn't seem to take that final step. Giving up, she went over to slouch in the armchair and gaze out the window.

  Alma hated leaving the house. In public, she felt as if everyone were staring at her, pitying her for her too-visible disabilities. And so, except for her visits to Charlie's office, she refused to go out. The weekly trip to the pool, however, was tolerable because for an hour she was returned to a satisfying state of renewed mobility and independence.

  Once in the water, she was capable of functioning unaided. With Eva sitting in her swimsuit on the side of the pool keeping watch, and with Penny eagerly dog-paddling next to her, Alma side-stroked her way from one end of the long pool to the other. Usually, for the time it took her to do ten lengths, she allowed her mind to drift, but today she kept her pace slow and watched Penny.

  The child chugged along grinning, as visibly happy in the water as Alma was, her small limbs churning beneath the surface, utterly unafraid. When they arrived at the deep end, Alma said, "We'll have a little rest, then swim back."

  One hand clinging to the pool's edge, Penny stayed afloat by slowly scissor-kicking her legs. "I love swimmin', don't you Granny?"

  "Yes, I do," Alma agreed. "You swim very well."

  "Yeah." Penny beamed. "I was the best of the tadpoles. The teacher said so. My mom used to take me every Sunday morning. C'n I come all the time with you?"

  "I don't see why not." Alma allowed herself to float motionlessly, anchored by her hand to the pool's side.

  "I can do three whole lengths," Penny said proudly. "I got a junior badge and I was the littlest one in the entire class."

  "That's wonderful."

  "Yeah. I c'n do lifesavin' and everything."

  Alma chuckled, charmed by the child's enthusiasm. "Shall we head back to the other end now?"

  "Uh-hunh." Penny pushed off, and after a moment Alma followed.

  After completing a third length, Penny was tired and said, "I'm gonna watch for a while. Okay?"

  Alma watched the child pull herself out of the pool, then said, "Why don't you go keep Eva company?"

  Her chest heaving, Penny huffed, "Okay," and got to her feet.

  Alma waited until Penny was safely seated next to Eva, then she turned

  onto her back and began kicking her way down the length of the pool.

  Comfortable in the water, pleased by her buoyant power, she gazed at the ceiling and indulged as she did each week, in the fantasy that she'd been restored to herself and was no longer someone whose physical appearance distressed strangers and prompted them to offer assistance she didn't want or need. In this pool she was once more her own person. She could ignore the sympathetic eyes of the women in the changing room, who saw her being dressed and undressed by her niece. Don't waste your pity, she wanted to rage at them. Once I'm in that damned pool I'll be every bit as good as you are, possibly better.

  Completing one lap and commencing another she wondered, as she did every week, why the general population was so intimidated by the visible disabilities of others, why they so often reacted as if proximity to her handicap might prove contagious. Only very young children, and occasionally someone elderly, addressed her as if cognizant of the human being warehoused behind the altered edifice. She too had been guilty in the past of seeing flawed surfaces first and the essential humanity second. But at last she'd recognized the common denominators. Now she was on the receiving end of those curious and apprehensive stares, and she wanted every time to sho
ut, as the Elephant Man had done, that she was not an animal. Rather than risk succumbing to the temptation, she stayed out of sight.

  By the time she'd finished her ten lengths she was contentedly tired and grateful for Eva's help getting out of the pool. "You're a real good swimmer, Granny," Penny said, taking hold of her hand as they headed for the changing room. "I was watchin'." Winded, Alma gave her hand a squeeze and geared herself for the ignominious business of being dried and dressed and bundled off home.

  "Auntie Eva says I c'n come next week too," Penny told her.

  "Good," Alma said, and glanced at Eva to see that she appeared distracted again.

  Penny hopped into a stall to shower and, relieved that she didn't have to oversee the child as well as her aunt, Eva quickly and efficiently got herself and Alma showered. She knew her aunt strongly disliked this aspect of their weekly outing and wasted no time in getting her through it. She was as matter-of-fact as she was able to be, having learned that undue solicitousness enraged Alma. She wanted as little attention as possible paid to her within the viewing range of others.

  As they were heading home, Penny spotted a McDonald's and asked, "C'n I have a milkshake?"

  "I'm afraid not," Eva said.

  "I've got money," Penny told her, fishing in her pocket for her plastic change purse. "Aunt Alma likes to go directly home after her swim," Eva explained, looking into the rearview mirror at her aunt. "But we could go in the drive-thru," Penny said, squirming to look back between the seats at her granny.

  "I'll survive it," Alma said to Eva's surprise. "Let Penny get a milkshake."

  Knowing better than to question her, Eva signaled for the turn.

  "Thanks, Granny," Penny crowed.

  "Maybe I'll have one too," Alma said.

  Amazing, Eva thought, but kept silent. Penny had actually managed to get Alma to venture, however peripherally, back into public.

  Upon returning from the Y, Eva put the wet towels and suits in the washing machine while Bobby got Alma upstairs for her nap. Setting the washer controls, Eva told herself it was time to erase the disks. She was merely procrastinating now, delaying the inevitable. No one would care, and she might begin feeling more like herself.

  She went along the hall to her aunt's room and tapped lightly on the door. As always, Alma was weary from her time in the pool. Eva sat on the side of the bed and said, "I've decided not to finish the book."

  "Congratulations. It's about time."

  "I know you think they were garbage, but those three books have brought in good money." "Money we didn't need in the first place," Alma scoffed. "I got scared," Eva admitted, not without difficulty. She hated admitting

  to emotions like fear; they seemed to reduce her, make her less of the person she believed herself to be. "Especially when the insurance company said they weren't going to pay for the nurse or for Dennis. I had a vision of

  our losing everything." "I saved throughout my entire working life," Alma said. "There's more than enough, as you well know."

  "I was scared," Eva said again, finding as she always did that once she'd confessed to a failing, however minimal, there was something cathartic in repetition.

  "There was not then, nor is there now, any need to be."

  "No, I'm beginning to see that." Eva looked over at the door, then back at her aunt. "I'll let you sleep now. I just wanted to let you know." Alma smiled at her. "It's the right thing to do," she said drowsily. Eva left, closing the door quietly behind her. With a sense of purpose she

  descended the stairs, made her way through the kitchen to the garage and up the stairs to the office, where she switched on the computer and began erasing the disks. Only minutes and it was done, but she was trembling and had to go sit in the armchair. She'd destroyed weeks of work and it felt criminal, particularly when she didn't have a firm fix on how she wanted to write about Deborah.

  How far back should she go? Should she start on the island and follow events sequentially? Or should she create a chronological narrative and fabricate the parts she didn't and couldn't know?

  She was certain of only one thing: She not only wanted to write about Deborah, she had to. And maybe, once she'd started, she'd be able to get back to dreaming in color.

  Penny was still a bit blue, and Bobby decided it might cheer her up to talk to Aunt Helen. They chatted for a minute or two, then Bobby said, "Want to say hi to Pen?"

  "I sure do." Her aunt laughed. "Put her on."

  Penny got on the phone and started telling Helen about Melissa and about swimming at the Y. "I swimmed with my granny and Auntie Eva," she said. "I'm goin' again next week. Auntie Eva said."

  Bobby let Penny talk for another minute or so, then got back on to tell her aunt she'd call again in a week's time. "Don't worry about us," she told her. "We're doing fine."

  "I'm happy for you, babe," her aunt said, her voice going thick. "Look out for my girl and take care of yourself."

  "I will. I love you."

  "Love you too, babe."

  At dinner, she mentioned the telephone call and said to Eva, "If you let me know how much my share is when the bill comes in, I'll pay you for it."

  "Don't worry about it," Eva said.

  "Okay," Bobby said, determined to take the woman at her word as she wanted. "Thanks a lot."

  "Dennis is comin' tomorrow," Penny announced. "I'm makin' chocolate chip cookies and he's gonna show us a movie."

  "That's okay, isn't it?" Bobby asked, looking first at Alma, then at Eva.

  "Of course it is," Alma preempted any comment her niece might make. "The apartment is your own place, after all."

  "He'll be coming when you're up for your nap," Bobby explained, not wanting them to think she was taking advantage.

  "I don't like mushrooms," Penny said, making a face as she pushed them to the side of her plate.

  "Don't make a fuss, Pen."

  "They touched my chicken."

  "Then just eat your vegetables."

  Penny frowned at her plate.

  Alma emitted one of her gruff laughs and said to Bobby, "You fail to understand, my dear. The vegetables have touched the chicken. Isn't that right, Penny?"

  "That's right," Penny said.

  "Bobby, get Penny another plate and we'll give her fresh servings of the rice and vegetables," Alma said.

  "What a waste," Eva muttered under her breath.

  "You used to do the same thing as a child, Eva," her aunt said as Bobby removed Penny's plate and went off to get a clean one. "In fact, you were worse." She stared at Eva for a long moment, then said, "You're decidedly on edge. What is it?"

  "Nothing. I erased the disks."

  "Well, good.

  "I've never thrown out a manuscript. It feels odd. I feel guilty."

  "You'll recover," Alma said blithely.

  "I'm sure I will," Eva shot back. "You could be a bit more sympathetic."

  "I refuse to indulge your self-pity."

  Eva glared at her but said nothing more.

  Bobby returned and put some food on Penny's plate, then, with a warning look, set the plate down in front of her. "No more fussing now, Pen. Sit quietly and eat."

  "Eva's about to begin work on a new book," Alma told Bobby. "She's going to get started on something worthy of her abilities."

  "That's good," Bobby said, looking across the table at Eva. "I like your books a lot."

  Eva was about to speak, but the telephone rang and she got up saying, "I'll get it."

  It was Charlie, asking, "What're you doing this evening, cupcake?"

  "I'm coming over to see you in about an hour," she answered, so glad he'd called she could've wept.

  He chuckled and said, "I'll be looking forward."

  She went back to the table, saying, "I'll be going out after dinner."

  "Charlie beckons," Alma said, one eyebrow lifted.

  "Tell me, Bobby," Eva said. "Does your aunt behave anything like mine?"

  Bobby laughed and said, "She used to, when I s
till lived at home. It's only 'cause she cares."

  "Ah!" Eva said. "Is that what it is? I've been wondering about that for years. So let me see if I've got this right." She looked over at her aunt. "You treat me like a ten-year-old because you care."

  "I treat you like a ten-year-old," Alma said, "because too often you behave like one."

  Amused by their bickering, Bobby continued eating. She was excited about Eva's starting a new book, and wondered what it would be about. She wished it was already written so she could read it right away. She was getting to the end of the second book and had already decided which one she planned to read next.

  "Do you know what the new one's going to be about?" she asked Eva.

  Eva appeared pleased by the question. "Actually," she said, "I do. Right now I'm trying to sort out the logistics."

  "She'll walk around for weeks in a fog," Alma said, "putting the pieces in place. She'll stand in the kitchen for an hour staring into space, and she'll go out to do errands and come home having forgotten why she went out."

  Eva smiled, as if in anticipation.

  Bobby smiled too, thrilled by the prospect of actually being there in the house while Eva wrote another wonderful book. It seemed like a great honor.

  Twenty-Four

  Eva sat holding Charlie's hand, listening to the music for a moment, finding it familiar but unable to remember what it was. Something by Bach. She closed her eyes and suddenly had an image of a jug of yellow daisies on the kitchen counter. "My God," she said, "Bobby gave me flowers."

  "That was very nice of her," Charlie said, content to follow where she led. He was fascinated by her mental peregrinations, always intrigued to see where she'd go.

  "They were just there on the counter and I really didn't take any notice of them," she said. "She must think I'm awful."