Drops of Cerulean: A Novel

by Dawn Adams Cole

  Delphina began a routine that night, rocking in the chair in the baby’s room, palms open on her belly, the glow from the porch light making its way through the curtains. Variations of yellow paint samples dotted the walls: lemon meringue, morning sunshine, and number-two pencil. They had not planned on traditional gender colors, but she viewed the colors through the lens of a boy. She figured, perhaps, a son would follow in the next few years, a thought that already filled her with guilt, as if she were questioning the soul nestled within her body. Delphina spent the remaining months closing her eyes and summoning her connection; she knew enough to realize there was a pattern to her life, and with this acknowledgment she vowed to make an effort to put her thoughts of a son aside.

  WITH AINSLEY MARIE CAME AN overwhelming love. The anxiety that haunted Delphina much of her life was countered by an impenetrable motherly love that made it all worth it, every ounce of worry dwarfed by a light that radiated from her heart, from a universal bond. As the doctor placed the baby on her chest after the birth, she kissed her head and whispered, “I’m so sorry I doubted you. This is how it is meant to be, my love.”

  Ainsley’s perfect fingers and toes fed her reverence for divine order. She recalled the nights after she was born, gently rocking her as she slept, tracing her fingertip along her daughter’s fingernail, moving over the fingerprint she knew was there and gliding along to her palm where tender wrinkles radiated into an asymmetrical web. She recalled not only waking, but enthusiastically waking, in the middle of the night to nurse her newborn daughter. Tenderly cradling the baby, she wondered how she could even call her Ainsley, the baby a splinter of the universe, the love and peace that emanated from this soul forcing Delphina to catch her breath. She silently shed tears during those moments, realizing that she had allowed her anxiety over the years to supersede the reverence. She vowed to follow her childhood instincts, wondering if the answer to her anxiety was simpler than she made it out to be.

  Delphina cradled Ainsley’s head on her shoulder, carrying her on a walking meditation through their home. She thought back to Victor’s sentiments about creating a space that honored old souls while welcoming new ones. Their renovated 1935 bungalow certainly met his standard, the new addition and amenities tripling the square footage and welcoming the home to modern times. It was a place for the old and the new: She felt Ainsley’s spirit energizing the home, the Walsh home. It would make a solid addition for a home tour one day.

  Ainsley’s November birthday gifted Delphina more time with her newborn, because the holidays did not count toward her leave. She had three months before returning to teach in the spring, time to study every movement and every breath, time to watch her daughter’s eyes track the dancing moon and stars on the mobile, and time to realize that work would remove her connection to the divine she had created. Her return to work left her rattled, as if her absence placed her daughter in jeopardy.

  Students noticed the difference in her demeanor. She appeared on edge, leaning in to what could be versus what was. Delphina stopped standing at her door in between passing periods, using the five minutes to shuffle at her desk and check her phone in the event Rosa tried to call. She stopped bringing snacks to school for her afternoon visitors, electing to stay only as long as she was required for tutorials, locking the door and scurrying down the hall to return to her daughter at home.

  Dr. Walsh, I thought you were cool.

  You need to chill, seriously.

  My sister had hormone issues after her pregnancies, too, Mrs. It’ll get better.

  But Delphina knew it would not get better. She felt guilty for leaving Ainsley during the day. She now looked at her students through a mother’s lens, and while this perspective could have served as a powerful connector to the lost souls that graced her classroom, it manifested too strong a bond in her heart and mind. Stories of abuse and neglect and of arguments in their homes that had captured her attention before left her physically sickened now. She wanted to serve them well, but the time and effort required to do it as she felt it needed to be done took her away from her own child. By the end of her first week back, she knew it would be her last year at Heights High.

  “Dr. Walsh, thank you for writing that letter of recommendation. I received the scholarship!” Cecilia squealed.

  “I am so very proud of you!” Delphina said, taking her in an embrace in the hallway. Cecilia was one of her favorite students from a time when she was a better teacher.

  “I can’t believe it. All my expenses are covered, including room and board … and to Rice University!”

  “Now, that is incredible. I didn’t realize it was so grand,” Delphina remarked.

  “It’s usually not. It turns out that Ilona Doyle’s son is a professor there. When he read my application and essay and knew I was already accepted, he said it was meant to be.”

  “And I’ll be at awards night this year to see you receive it!” Delphina cheered. “The department chair is out of town, so I gladly stepped in to help. Perfect timing!”

  Delphina lifted the hanger that held the yellow dress from Neiman’s, brushing off the coat of dust and praying it would fit. She thought back to the night she met Victor, the night her dress had been ruined. Instead of bringing flowers to their first date, he brought a bag from Neiman’s. He had bought her a new one, which left her speechless. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pulled up the zipper.

  “Yes!” she shouted in victory. “Goodbye baby weight!”

  She walked into the living room to find Victor feeding Ainsley, her year-old eyes lighting up when her mother entered the room.

  “You look beautiful,” Victor said. “I mean really, really beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I feel beautiful. Tonight is a special one.”

  “It’s not too late to stay on again for next year. I can’t imagine you not working at Heights.”

  “I can return one day if I change my mind. There aren’t many people gravitating to the profession.”

  Delphina kissed Ainsley and Victor as she headed out the door. She stopped at the white picket fence to admire her home, never imagining a million bucks could look so cozy. Giving thanks for the life she and Victor had created, she headed down the sidewalk, making her way to Heights Boulevard as the sun set.

  She paused to take in a healthy view of the school as she strolled through the front entrance, committing it to memory. She knew that, when she left, the building would have a different air, the ebb and flow of new students and new faculty changing the energy.

  Students and parents trickled down the hall, making their way to the auditorium doors. They wore smiles and freshly pressed clothes, and there were scents of perfume and flowers in the air. She saw Cecilia standing at the entrance, her hand waving wildly when she saw Delphina.

  “Cecilia! And it’s nice to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Cacique!” Delphina beamed, shaking their hands.

  “It’s so nice to see you again, Dr. Walsh! The teacher who inspired our daughter!” Mr. Cacique replied.

  “Tonight is a special night, indeed.” Delphina said as they walked into the auditorium.

  “I’m disappointed that Dr. Doyle couldn’t make it tonight,” Cecilia said. “I wanted to thank him in person.”

  “Oh, well I am sure we can find another opportunity for you to meet him,” Delphina encouraged.

  “They said his husband had a heart attack. Say a prayer for him, will you?” Cecilia asked as they entered the auditorium.

  Delphina headed to her seat on the stage along with the other department chairs. Mrs. Smith, the principal, headed over to her with a paper in hand.

  “Dr. Walsh, thank you for stepping in tonight. I’m afraid I need to burden you once again. Dr. Doyle usually presents the scholarship, but he can’t be with us tonight.”

  “Yes, I heard about the terrible news. I’m sorry.”

  “We all are. This is the first awards night he has missed since he founded the scholarship. I know he would be here if
he could. Since you wrote Cecilia’s letter, we figured it would be best if you presented the award in his absence.”

  “It would be an honor.”

  “Thank you. Here is the description for you to read on behalf of Dr. Doyle. It concludes with the letter you wrote, but feel free to add your own comments about Cecilia.”

  The Ilona Doyle Scholarship was created in honor of my mother, an intelligent woman, a progressive for her time. Along with the example set through her kindness, compassion, and sacrifices made, she bestowed upon me a strong sense of self that allowed me to be the man I am today. A Heights resident for thirty-two years, she enjoyed her daily walks to Heights High School to tutor students in need. She was a firm believer in the value of education, and it is in this spirit that I enthusiastically present this award on her behalf.

  It is my sincerest pleasure to award this year’s scholarship to Cecilia Cacique, who will matriculate to my alma mater, Rice University. I look forward to welcoming her into my class this fall.

  Delphina was overcome with emotion as she read his words, nose tingling as she imagined mother and son. This was exactly the type of mother she hoped to be for Ainsley.

  CADMUS

  Spring 2010

  EVEN BEFORE THE DEMENTIA GAINED its footing, Cadmus visualized the memory process as a sieve sifting through sand, the largest particles remaining even though they were small in and of themselves. His memories of Robert had arranged themselves into their own score, vinyl spinning the sounds of Johnny Cash and Merle Haggard. Robert wanted the windows open on a smattering of humid nights, mosquitoes abounding and the pecan tree thirsting for a breeze. The mosquitoes left Robert be, as he deduced, “Because they know I’m a mean son-of-a-bitch.” Cadmus had acquiesced, dousing himself in repellent after they had eaten supper and drank beer, their routine for those nights had Cadmus grading in the nook while Robert worked on briefs.

  Robert had been in the kitchen grabbing another beer on one of those humid nights when he suddenly fell to the ground. Cadmus ran to his side to find him out of breath and reaching for his chest.

  “Call an ambulance. And get the medical power of attorney,” Robert gasped, Cadmus’ fingers trembling as he dialed 9-1-1.

  The paramedics arrived within minutes, freeing up Cadmus to run to the library for the documents. Robert kissed Cadmus as they lifted the gurney into the ambulance, and Cadmus followed along in his car. As he raced down Heights Boulevard, he begged God to spare him this loss, another loss that would be too much to bear. He offered his life in exchange, bargaining a higher power to allow him to pass first and let Robert live.

  He knelt in the chapel, reverting to the prayers he had known as a child, the prayers to a God he no longer worshiped. The words comforted him even though he did not believe in a Savior; he felt the Savior was within everyone. He reached in his pocket for his mother’s rosary, summoning all his energies to heal his husband.

  “AND WHEN THE BIG ONE comes and takes me, just remember my son-of-bitch brothers will appear on the steps of The Doyle House with their hands out,” Robert said as he lay in the hospital bed. He was feeling better.

  “Robert, please don’t talk like that. You need to cut back at the office, give more work to Jane.”

  Robert looked out the window, the sunlight that poured into the room revealing more wrinkles and spots. It was the first time Cadmus viewed him as an elderly man, the hospital gown dwarfing his frame.

  “I’ve been thinking about it. I’ll talk to her when I get out of here,” he replied. “But I’m serious about my family, Cadmus. They have no use for a living gay brother, but a dead gay brother with a sizeable net worth? Well, trust me, I’ll come in handy.”

  “Our papers are clear,” Cadmus said, his discomfort growing. “But I may very well be the one to go first. And if I do, you will not need to worry. As beautiful as it is, no one in my family wants The Doyle House.”

  “You know, you can go to Heights tonight.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “It’s one of your favorite times of the year, Cadmus. Really, please go.”

  “No. Ilona would understand.”

  Cadmus longed to attend awards night despite his refusal to take his husband up on the offer. He wanted to meet Delphina Walsh, the teacher who composed the recommendation letter of the winning recipient. Reading the applicant’s essay and knowing her enrollment to Rice would be derailed without financial assistance certainly helped her case. The lovely letter written by her teacher, Delphina, made it clear that he was meant to help Cecilia Cacique. He knew that Delphina must be the same soul he had seen at Kaplan’s so long ago, questioning the odds over meeting more than one person with that name. He also recalled the young woman sharing that she studied English at the University of Houston.

  He knew where to find her, though. She would be at Heights High School, and he could certainly find an excuse to visit and cross her path once Robert fully recovered.

  DELPHINA

  Autumn 2011

  “DELI? DELI? ROSA’S HERE WITH Ainsley,” Victor said, caressing her back as she lay in bed.

  “I’ll get up,” she whispered. “I need to take care of her.”

  “No, please rest. I won’t be long … just need to sign those papers at the office,” Victor said, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “I hope so,” she replied. And then realizing the irony of her word choice, she added, “Maybe hope can be a strategy.”

  Delphina sat up in bed after Victor left the room, grogginess from the anesthesia lingering more than she thought it would. She wondered when to mark her baby’s death, the day she learned there was no heartbeat during the sonogram or the day of the D&C. She knew the soul was taken long before the news was shared, and she hoped the being knew how much love she held for it during the brief time its spirit cradled in her womb. She wondered if it was the son she thought she was supposed to have.

  She rose to take a shower, knowing she needed to spend time with her daughter, the one who was alive. Her parents would come by with lunch later. She longed for one of her daddy’s hugs, to look in his eyes and know that they understood one another without having to say a word. He was not an educated man, but he was the wisest person she knew.

  She wept in the shower, knowing that her nervous spirit made a firm return, an undercurrent throughout her life, but one that she managed as an adult. She could not allow it to take over the life she worked so purposefully to create.

  Delphina did what she knew from years of self-care. She strapped Ainsley in her stroller and, telling Rosa she would be back in just a bit, she took a walk down Heights Boulevard to find evidence of the divine. She meandered along the pebbled trail, a slow pace as compared to the joggers who raced passed. She studied two butterflies as they danced in tandem into the gazebo, one butterfly not able to make its way from the lattice as it bumped the edges of the diamond-patterned wood. The escape was right in front of it, had it only taken a moment to notice its surroundings. After a few attempts, it joined its partner, flitting through the latticework and down the esplanade to the wildflowers sprouting along the curb.

  A handful of leaves filled the bottom of the stroller on her return home. She held Ainsley as they rocked on the front porch, showing her daughter the veins of the leaves, guiding her index finger to trace along the pinnate and the palmate, sharing how the tender veins carry water to the blades.

  “There is harmony to life, my love.”

  Ainsley grabbed the dried leaf, blades crumbling in the force of her tiny fingers. A few veins remained despite her daughter’s impulse, prompting Delphina to realize the strength of the foundation. There was an order.

  VICTOR WAS A PATIENT MAN. He held firm convictions but spoke with a soft voice. Delphina appreciated that his disposition balanced her unease. And this was why she knew, based on his countenance, that she was on borrowed time in rebounding. She knew he had something on his mind that he was hesitant to say.


  “Let’s go out tonight.”

  “I don’t mind staying in, especially since Ainsley still has the sniffles.”

  “I already called Rosa. She’ll be fine,” he said, rising from the sofa and offering her a hand to help her up. “We can stay local … we haven’t been to Cistern in a while.”

  Delphina smiled and agreed, “Yes, maybe a stroll on Nineteenth Street will serve us well.”

  After a round of cocktails and a bevy of tears, with oyster bacon potpie providing comfort, they vowed to resume date night with vigilance. After the shrimp and grits with Big Daddy’s Hot Sauce and fried green tomatoes, alongside a most lovely bottle of chardonnay, they laughed, recalling times from the night he had ruined her dress at the bar to the wave of shock that overcame him when the sales lady at Neiman’s disclosed the price the following day.

  “I am proud to say I can easily afford that now and then some,” he said, raising his glass in the air.

  “And I am so proud of what you have accomplished. It’s amazing, Victor, and I am sorry I do not say it as often as I should.”

  “I think we should talk about you, about what you are destined to accomplish,” he said.

  Delphina’s heart sank. He was ready to say what was on his mind.

  “Okay,” she said, taking another sip of wine.

  “I’m glad you are home with Ainsley, because it is what you wanted, and I am so damn proud I can provide a very nice life for us that allows you to do so,” he started. “But I believe staying home is not the right path for you, Delphina. You were meant to teach.”

  “Victor, you saw how much life the job took from me! The summers off didn’t matter … the work during the year was too grueling for me as a mother.”