The Rainbow (Sequel to The Dove Keeper)

December (Part 2)

  The 'everyone' that was coming to this dinner turned out to be Mikey and Jasmine. Not exactly everyone, but close enough. Vivian explained the small tradition that had started while we were away as she chopped the last of the vegetables, and began to simmer the sauce. I didn't say anything as she talked and explained to us, and neither did Gerard. We just listened patiently as she raddled through this protocol and all the people who usually turned up, and what they had eaten in the last four months or so. I could tell from Vivian's voice and Gerard's suddenly self-conscious body language that these dinners were started because of us. Because we were the only real people bonding this seemingly random group of strangers together, and once Gerard was gone in Paris, and I was close behind him, the dinners were the perfect remedy so that the group did not disband completely. Vivian was perceptive though, even more than I would sometimes give her credit for, and she had swooped into fix "the mess" that was left behind.

"We all ate here," she informed us. "It made sense because it was free of children, and because there was room. Besides, since the task fell to Jasmine to organize and I to keep the apartment clean and still running while you were gone, it made sense to use it for something." She paused for a second, and blinked slowly. I noticed aged lines and crow's feet around her eyes that had not been there in the past. The grey in her hair I had noticed along with Gerard's - they both had a salt and pepper look coming through (though Vivian's was more like sugar and spice, I supposed, since she was a natural red head). But these signs of age had never really stuck with her; they never defined her personality. It seemed more like a temporary causality, like a cut finger, and would heal with time. But as she stood as she talked, I realized the secret of Vivian's youth was in her voice. When she spoke before, she was animated, she was young, even when she was angry and insulting Gerard - there was life in anger, in passion, and frustration. But now she was tired. She was going through this rolodex of how she kept this place going and these people together, and she was tired. She was keeping a memory alive, not knowing when we would come back, if we would come back, and now that we had - she could rest. And she was exhausted.

My eyes went from Viv's suddenly fatally aged physique to Gerard's, and it hit me that these wounds were not ones that exactly healed. Aging wasn't reversible, though it could be masked, by hair dye and animated voices, or by different clothing. But Gerard had stopped buying hair dye in Paris because he couldn't afford it, and similarly, his clothing was old and worn. It was too big for him. I realize now how shabby we both looked, and how we had been clinging to our shirts, our pants, and our shoes in spite of holes and threadbare parts because it was all we could afford. And while I could shed my clothing and automatically become my appropriate age again, Gerard's case was terminal. It was even pointless for him to dye his hair again. I knew what he looked like now, and while I knew he was older, I used to think that certain things could maybe address it. Maybe not reverse it, but at least halt it. Coupled with the sudden realization of Vivian's age as well, I began to see that there was no discrimination in terms of age, and soon, it would happen to me.

There was a sudden sizzle that jolted me out of my thought, and back into the conversation. Vivian was startled as well, and put a lid back on the pot, and then looked through a recipe book while explaining that Cassandra had had a piano lesson tonight, and Alexa, Mikey's wife, had to get caught up on her home business and watch their kids, so they wouldn't be attending.

"Normally, Alexa comes. She's actually a scream to be with now that she has her own focus, and no longer has to butt her way into everyone's business," Vivian explained. She looked around the kitchen, back at the recipe book, and sighed with relief. It appeared that all she could cook or chop was done for the time being. I felt my stomach rumble on instinct - and before I could say anything, Viv offered: "Coffee? Anyone? It's not quite dinner, and I know that this coffee is probably nothing compared to what you two had in Paris, but it's something. And oh," she dug through one of her shopping bags. "I came bearing gifts."