Ben slowly released the doorknob. The latch clicked in place. He rubbed his face and threw his jacket on the arm of the sofa. That familiar smell, faint but musty, received him into the apartment.
The blinds sat against the window, preventing the light from sanitizing the room. He thought about opening them, then remembered and let them fall. A single slat brushed the window and let off a hiss. Dust from the blinds, gritty like from the finest sandpaper, grated the tips of his fingers. He wiped them on his pants. Two brownish-gray lines streaked across his thigh.
A pair of framed photos hung on the wall. Victoria with her arms wrapped around their son at his college graduation, the smile on his face telling Ben to hurry up and take the picture. He and Vic the first time the doctor pronounced her cancer free, a reminder that it could happen again. His hand reached up to caress the edge of the frame, caress her face. The dust smeared his fingertips.
“Ben, is that you?” Victoria’s voice, weak, pained, came from the back room.
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m glad you’re home. I left some soup on the stove. All you have to do is heat it up. There should be most of a loaf of bread in the pantry. I made it this morning in case you came home for lunch.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. The doctor told you to rest.”
The slow shuffle of footsteps ambled down the hall. Victoria stopped at the living room door and leaned against the wall. A white robe hugged her pale frame.
“Doctors. What do they know?” She forced her lips to turn upward. The dry cough spattered out of her throat.
“Come on, Vic. Let me take you back to bed.”
“I’m fine. I can make it back on my own. I just wanted to see your beautiful face.” Her words calmed the worry painted into his eyes. “Go ahead and eat. You must be hungry. There’s something I want to talk to you about when you’re done.”
“OK, Vic. I’ll be back to see you in a few.”
The footsteps returned down the hallway. Ben headed to the stove and twisted the knob to the burner. Blue and orange fingers embraced the bottom of a silver pot. A folded paper bag lay on the middle shelf in the pantry, concealing a round of hardening bread. The bag crackled as he dumped its contents onto a plate. He tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the soup. The sweet taste of cream and roasted tomatoes tantalized his tongue. He re-dipped the morsel, not caring to wonder where she had found such luxuries.
Ben rested on the counter and contemplated the stack of dishes in the sink. A few minutes later, the soup bubbled over as though a living creature breathed in its depths. The flames disappeared, and the pot emptied into the only clean bowl he could find. Over and over, the spoon descended into the red broth, clinking against the sides and rising to eager lips, until no more would climb onto its belly. Five swipes with the bread cleaned away the remnants. Ben took his time washing the dishes and cleaning the rest of the kitchen. When he finished, he looked around for something else to delay the conversation. Finding nothing, he joined Victoria in the bedroom.
The mattress shifted as Ben sat on the edge, but Victoria didn’t wake up. A towel rested across a treadmill which hadn’t come to life since Victoria’s first operation. Light blue with tattered ends, the towel fluttered as the rotating fan passed by, coming to a halt just long enough to catch its breath before the fan made its return trip.
A brush with long strands of dark hair took up residence on top of the dresser. A diamond ring, too large for emaciated fingers, lay beside it.
“Hey, hon. When did you get home?”
Ben shut his eyes for a second and let out the sadness as a long, soft sigh. “A few minutes ago,” he said.
“There’s soup on the stove. I made it for you. A loaf of bread too. It should be in the pantry.”
“I’ll eat later.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said as he placed his hand on hers. “I’ll be alright.”
“You know you don’t eat right. Never have. If it wasn’t for me keeping on you, you’d survive on doughnuts and coffee. Probably be as fat as Charles Ahab. I don’t trust that guy. Make sure you keep an eye on him.”
“Ahab died years ago, Vic.”
Victoria’s eyes searched the corner of the room. “Of course. Years ago.” She paused. “The tumor. I don’t remember things sometimes.”
“I know.”
“Which is why I need to take care of you while I can.”
A melancholy smile fought the tears. “What would I do without you?”
Victoria raised her head towards the dresser. “What time is it?” she asked.
“15:30.”
“You’re home a little early today. Everything go alright at work?”
“I had a meeting with President Zedekiah. He asked me to stay afterwards to chat.”
“Yeah?” Her eyebrows raised reflexively. “About what?”
“Nothing important.”
“Ben, don’t lie to me. I can always tell when you’re lying. What was it about?”
Ben shrugged. “He said I need to get on board with the team. As if an advisor’s job is to simply agree with everyone.”
“You were called there to speak truth to him even when he doesn’t want to hear it.”
“I know, Vic. It’s just ….” He let his voice trail off.
This time her hand comforted his. “What is it?” she asked.
His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the circulating fan. The light blue towel unfurled like a flag in a gentle breeze. A thousand voices in his mind argued not to tell her. He listened to the one that told him to speak the truth. “They lowered the age of consent again. Eight for girls. Six for boys. Can anyone that young understand?” Anger welled up in his chest and spilled onto the floor.
“Hey, dad. Is mom here? I’m not feeling well. My head hurts, and my throat’s a little sore.” The dry, hacking cough punctuated her words, her lungs battling the tumors for a drop of air. The largest one in her brain pressed against the back of her left eye. She rubbed her temple in an effort to relieve the pain.
“It’s me. Ben,” he said.
“Ben.” Her head nodded in partial understanding. “Where’s Ged? Did he finish his homework yet? You know that boy’s not supposed to play until he’s finished. He’s a good kid, but he’s always trying to get away with stuff. Make sure you keep an eye on him.”
“I’ll do that, Vic.”
“And momma’s birthday. It’s coming up this week. I’m going to need a new dress for the party. I should probably go shopping now.” She raised herself onto one elbow but collapsed back down. “Maybe later. I’m a little tired now.”
A shallow sleep crept over her. Ben listened to the crackle in her lungs as memories, both good and bad, filled his mind. The mattress shifted as he rose to let her sleep.
“Hey, Ben. When did you get here?”
He turned towards his wife. “Hi, sweetheart. I’ve been here for a little while. Long enough to eat the soup and bread you left for me.”
She smiled. “That’s good. As long as you’re here, can I talk with you?”
“Of course. About what?”
“The doctor called today. She didn’t say what she wanted, just that you should call her back. I think it’s good news.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it is.”
The coughing spell lasted nearly a minute.
“Ben, would you open the blinds for me? It’s stuffy in here.”
Ben walked to the window and lifted the shades. Streams of pale light flooded through the glass, carrying a few muffled shouts with it.
“What’s going on, Ben?”
“Nothing, Vic. Some kids are playing ball in the street.”
“Oh, yeah? Is it Terrence? He hasn’t dropped by for a while.”
“I don’t know who they are.”
“Tell me what you see. I love looking out there, but you know the light hurts my eyes.”
“It’s beautiful. I can see the oak in the park. We used to sit under it on your birthday and have lunch. Remember the oak? It’s got a million leaves. You would collect them and put them in your scrapbook. Called them your memories.”
“Are they the same green?”
“The most beautiful shade of green you can imagine. Like dark emeralds.”
She smiled. “And the kids?”
“They’re there, like always.”
“I hear them,” she said. “Sounds like they’re playing basketball.”
“Yeah. You think I should go out there and teach them a thing or two?”
“You’re an old man, Ben. I don’t want you to get hurt.” A hand went to her eyes. “Close it for me please. The light’s beginning to hurt my head. Not all the way, though. I want to see a little of it. And, if you don’t mind, could you bring me a glass of water.”
“And your medicine?”
“I don’t want it. It fogs my head and doesn’t let me think clearly.”
“The doctor said ….”
“The doctor knows they won’t do any good.”
Ben searched her brown eyes.
“I know, Ben. I know what’s happening to me. Not all the time.” She stopped speaking and rolled over. “Put the water on the nightstand for me, please. I’ll get it after my nap.”
He filled the glass halfway and left it beside her, stopping by the window one more time. The pale light rolled through the blinds. A gray world stared back at him. Gray, dusty streets. A gray sky and gray sun. Across the street, the oak tree lowered its bare arms towards the ground as though afraid it would fall over at any moment.
A young girl, probably no more than twelve but dressed to look even younger, leaned against its trunk. Her mom stood beside her and collected money from a man in a stained, gray shirt. A moment later, the man and the girl were on the ground together. Down the street, the same scene played itself out a dozen times. Ben closed the blinds and listened to the soft crackle in his wife’s lungs.