by Anna Jacks
The air seemed filled with the sea. The dampness made me feel cold even though we were deep into the encore of the summer heat in mid-September. The morning sun bounced so many times among the tiny airborne droplets that it had little energy left to light our way as we walked back from town with the pricey coffee my husband’s old college roommate Gary and his wife Dengsi loved.
“What was Dengsi on about last night? Usually all I have to do is mention the name Nigel and she mutters under her breath in Chinese. Last night she was singing his praises.”
My husband Seth shifted the tray of coffees to his left hand and scratched his forehead.
“The only thing that fits,” I continued, “is that she was practicing for the speech she might give at his funeral like the one she gave for her mom — and she really hated that woman. Nigel isn’t sick is he?”
My husband stopped to look at a painting of a train in the window of a gallery.
“Her mother had a black belt in sarcasm but Dengsi forgave her. As for Nigel, I would know if something was wrong. Karen handles all the medical test requests from Dr. Man as well and she would have said something. No —Dengsi was just loaded. ”
“Dengi does not usually react to alcohol that way. Her mood always goes in the same direction as the level of wine in the bottle. By the dregs she is always mean enough clear a crowded room. Last night she became euphoric.”
“Gary seemed to appreciate it.”
“Wouldn’t you appreciate it if you were married to a woman who could find something judgmental to say about a daisy? Last night she just seemed to have turned into a Chinese Pollyanna.”
“I appreciate you almost all of the time — but not when you behave like a sick dog who goes off into the woods when it is “time.” What were you going to do exactly? Did you think I might not notice that you have lost 20 pounds in about a month or that your “tan” has a light yellow tinge?
“I am not going to get it treated. I just can’t.”
“We have been married for 40 years. Do you think that decision is a surprise to me? We both knew it might return. We both agreed about what to do if it should come back.”
“I just wanted a little normal left. If I told you there would be no more normal. We would be planning my funeral and figuring out how to tell our family. ”
“That whole thing could take us the better part of an hour. We have time. We have time if you allow me to do my part to walk with you now.”
“You are walking with me — and carrying all the coffee too.”
“Cute… We will do what we do until we can’t.”
We rounded the corner and walked up the steep lawn to the white rambling frame house that my husband’s roommate inherited. I took the coffees from the cardboard tray he was carrying and gave the cappuccino to Gary and the latte to Dengsi. I took a seat in the large wooden Adirondack chair next to Dengsi and Gary got up and grabbed Seth by the arm saying something about wanting to show him a fishing boat he is thinking of buying down at the harbor. They started to walk off.
“Are you two going to be back in time for the Farmer’s Market?”
Seth turned around but Gary kept walking.
“I will see to it.”
Dengsi sipped at her coffee and stared into the mist.
“Dengsi, do you have a copy of the speech you gave at your mother’s funeral a year ago?”
“No. I threw it out. It was not true to her. Mother expired a year before she died. That was when all of her spirit left her. She had no more fight for her or for me. When the fight goes away you just wait to die. My grandmother was like that too.”
“You said in the speech that you thought your mom had always been a fighter.”
“She was. She wanted me to be a fighter too. She tried to toughen me up. I let her down.
“You are a scientist, a disgustingly gorgeous woman, and a formidable opponent in an argument. How can you say you let her down?”
“My family provided tutors to help me excel in science. I wanted to be a writer. Not in English: In Chinese. I did not want to be a biologist. That way would have been a real fight. Instead I became mean, like her. When she saw that even my time had passed, she gave up. She let her spirit go. She became nice and she simply waited to die.”
“You are not dead yet. Why can’t you write now in Chinese?”
“I stopped wanting to. ”
Dengsi finished her coffee and we sat in silence on the porch watching the mist lift. The sun came and then hid behind clouds.
*****
We bought their house after I was told I was in remission. I had not accepted treatment, but the disease decided on its own to give me a respite — again. I left the red Chinese iron lawn lantern Dengsi left the “house” in her will. She had a massive stroke a month after our visit.
We sit on the porch in the morning and waited for the sun catchers in the windows to cast their rainbows.
Social Science Friction 