When Blue Fades to Purple

When Blue Fades to Purple
by
Lewis Clarke

The rain was coming down steadily. There were puddles on the sidewalk and you could hear water running into the drains at the edge of the road. Frank and Chris were coming back from the coffee house on the corner a couple of blocks away from their home. They spoke as they trudged along the rain soaked sidewalk.
“This is a real downpour. When is it suppose to stop” Chris queried.
“I wouldn’t call it such a downpour; I’ve seen much harder rain than this”
“Well, it’s hard enough for me” Chris objected.
Neither Frank nor Chris looked at each other as they walked, their feet causing water to squirt out from under their shoes with each step making splashing sounds. It reminded Frank of when he was a kid and how every mud puddle was an opportunity to make a splash and see how far the water would go. After all, everything was already wet so what was the harm. The next puddle was too much to resist, a chance to go back to a happier day. Two quick steps and a short leap and he had thoroughly demolished the puddle and managed to spray Chris with the miniature shock wave of water.
“You got me wet!”. Chris had a wave of anger that would quickly pass as they often did.
“We’ll be home in a minute and get you all dried off”. Frank was glancing up in the trees not showing any concern.
Chris was agitated that Frank didn’t display any remorse over her predicament. She soon spotted a puddle and waited until Frank was right next to it and made her move. She jumped into the puddle, but didn’t hit it on center and the water radiated out in every direction, but Franks. Frank laughed loudly at her attempt at revenge. Chris made a second attempt to exact punishment for Frank’s lack of concern, but the results were the same. “Look, you have to hit the puddle in the middle” Frank said and jumped into another with a fabulous spray that went all the way to up the Chris’s face.
“STOP IT’ she yelled and began to jump into every puddle she could find to even the score. Down the street they went Frank walking calmly and Chris moving down the sidewalk, jumping up and down as they went. “It’s a good thing it’s raining. You might get a trip to the loony bin, jumping up and down like that”.
“You were doing it too”.
“Yes, but not with so much flare” he said and jumped into the next puddle before Chris could get to it.
“That was my puddle”.
“You can tell that to your therapist” Frank responded. “Oh yes, I own all mud puddles” he chuckled.
“Ha Ha”, you are a lot weirder than I am”.
“That is because people see me with you”.
They were soon at the gate to their house and Frank stepped ahead to open it for Chris so she could go ahead and get under the overhang to the front door. He had barely closed the gate when Chris prodded him to
“Hurry up I want to get these wet things off”. Frank had the key to the door out of his pocket by the time he got to the front door. He unlocked it and pushed it opened with a quick and smooth motion.
“You get changed and I will put on the tea pot”
“I want Earl Grey” she said as she ran up the stairs. Frank took his shoes off at the front door and took off his coat as he walked toward the kitchen. As he reached the kitchen he hung his coat on the door knob and his hat on top of it. The kitchen was simple, long and narrow, just enough room for two people to pass. You could enter from the foyer by the front door and walk through to the dining room. Almost everything was white with the exception of the floor that resembled a black and white checker board. Making the tea was quite routine; he had done it so many times before. There was already water in the tea pot on the stove. He turned the knob on the stove and the blue flame quickly appeared and began to heat the kettle. Frank tried to calculate how long it would take for Chris to get changed and come down stairs. He adjusted the flame to a level that would boil the water and get the tea steeped by the time Chris arrived at the kitchen. Chris wasn’t known for her speed so he knew he had about ten minutes. It takes a while to find the right clothes and fix makeup and fiddle with a few things along the way, as the water boiled. Frank gazed out the kitchen window at the steady falling rain. He thought of Shakespeare’s poem:

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute of God himself;
And earthly power doth then show like God's
When mercy seasons justice

How powerful he thought. Why couldn’t I create poems like that? “Oh well, just a commoner, too smart for my own good”. The teapot was whistling now and brought him back from his musings. He turned from the window and turned off the stove. He opened the door with his right hand and grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. The teabags were on a tin on the counter near the stove he reached for them in their usual place. They weren’t there. He didn’t have to think about where they went. He knew that Chris had used them and put them somewhere. He took a couple of steps to the stairs and yelled to Chris
“What is the new hiding place for the tea?”. Chris was still trying to decide what she should ware and didn’t hear what Frank had said.
“WHAT?” she yelled back.
“WHERE IS THE TEA?”
Chris had now come to the top of the stairs to respond to Franks query.
“Check the drawers”. Frank stepped back into the kitchen and looked at the drawers. Why would she put the tea in a drawer? He thought. Quickly he walked the length of the counter, pulling open each draw glancing in and pushing it shut with a thump. No tea to be found. This left him at the far end of the kitchen. He slowly walked back to the stairs to report his findings to Chris. Another wild goose chase he thought.
“NOT IN THE DRAWERS” he reported.
“Did you look under the sink?”. Her voice was distant now; Frank knew she must be in the bathroom. Frank walked back to the sink and opened the doors. “This is ridiculous” as he looked into the space that was crammed full of cleaning supplies and bags. “Not there” he answered.
“IS IT ON THE STOVE” she asked.
This question irritated Frank he had just been standing at the stove and would have seen it. He knew now that nothing short of a search and rescue mission would turn up the tea. It could be anywhere in the house. Chris didn’t place a lot of importance on organization and habit. If she was in the midst of some project she could easily be drawn away to something else that caught her attention. One day Frank came home from work to find the water running full blast in the sink and Chris nowhere to be found. His search ended at the second floor bedroom window. There he saw Chris working in the backyard garden pulling weeds.
Chris had finished changing her clothes and came rumbling down the stairs.
“Did you find the tea?”
“Nope” he calmly responded. “I have to report the tea is missing in action”.
“Not in the drawers?”.
“No” Frank was holding back on the sarcasm because he knew he could overdue it at times.
Chris walked the length of the kitchen and into the dining room. There was a sideboard to the right. She reached up to the second shelf and pulled down a tin of tea.
“Here it is” she exclaimed. Frank was well acquainted with this scenario. He had been through it many times. He was learning to laugh his way through them. “That is a pretty blue dress my love” he said changing the subject.
“It’s not blue it’s purple” she quipped.
“Looks blue to me” he mumbled.
“Well, it’ not” she said bluntly.
Chris opened the tin of tea and put a bag in each cup. She reached for the teapot and noticed the stove was off and the water was not boiling.
“The stove isn’t on and the water isn’t hot” she said.
“I assure you the water is hot my dear” Frank replied.
“Not hot enough for me”. Chris turned the knob on the stove and the flame came to life.
“It was hot enough to steep the tea” Frank retorted, took the teapot and poured the steaming water into his cup. He put the teapot back on the burner.
“You are wasting energy” he said and picked up his mug and left the kitchen towards the dining room. As he reached the dining room Chris squeezed in one last comment.
“You take long showers”.
“Aren’t you glad?” he responded. “We could go back to bathing once a week”.
The dining room had a large window facing the side yard and the dining room table was situated squarely in the middle. Frank took his usual place on the left of the window and Chris took her place on the right. Both looked out the window in silence watching the rain soak the well manicured lawn. The petals on the flowers quivered with each rain drop that hit them and rings radiated from the droplets hitting the pond near the window. There was something solemn about it, something that slowed ones thoughts and made a person take time to reflect. Both Frank and Chris sat in silence and let their minds wonder. Frank began to stir and said “I have to go out to the garage and move the boxes of files”.
“I already did that “ Chris said.
“I know, that is why I have to do it”
“They are fine where I put them”.
“I am moving them anyway”. He rose, mug in hand, and began to walk to the back of the house passing through the living room. It was dark in the living room the only light coming from the dining room window. He passed the den and arrived at the mud room. Frank stopped opened the inside door and looked out the back towards the garage. It was only a short distance to the door of the garage, but in the pouring rain it seemed like miles. It was comfortable and cozy in the house, but he knew he had to go. He put his hand on the door, flung it opened and dashed for the portal on the other side. As he put his hand on the doorknob he realized the door was locked and he did not have the key. Frank quickly turned to the house and ran back only to find the inner door had been closed and locked by a not so unknown person. He pounded on the door with his fist to no avail. Frank, wet and frustrated, made his way to the front of the house by the drive that was next to the house. All the way thinking to himself that the front door had better be unlocked. He arrived grabbed the handle and turned the knob. The door opened with its’ usual squeak and he entered somewhat soggier than he had left. “Oh Chris” he droned. “Where are you dear?”. “I am up here dear” she said from the second floor.
“Could you come here for a moment?”
“No, I am busy right now” Frank resisted the temptation to run up the stairs and settle the matter. He took off his soggy shoes, picked them up and went back through the kitchen, grabbing his keys from the counter on his way to the back door. His mind was at work the entire way trying to come up with a suitable plan for revenge. He was so deep in thought he was at the garage door and didn’t have the key ready to unlock it. He fumbled with the key ring looking for the right key. He found the key, slipped it in the knob and stepped in. Standing inside he realized Chris had caught him off guard and he was rattled by that. “I have to remain calm. No need to hurry with retaliation. Just bide my time and strike when she least expects it”. He took a deep breath and looked across the garage where the boxes was hap hazardly piled. One box was ready to fall off the top with the slightest nudge. “Why do I feel like I am cleaning up after four year olds all the time?” He started across the floor towards his work.

Chris had watched Frank go into the garage from the second floor. She felt safe to go back down stairs. She skipped down the stairs on her way to the den. Chris had plans to wallpaper the den. Frank hated wallpaper so she had hidden samples from the store in the book case between the books. She pulled them out and fanned them like a hand of playing cards, contemplating each one. She decided to tape each sample to the wall opposite the window. She retrieved a roll of tape from a desk situated in front of the window. She carefully pulled and cut five pieces, sticking each to the edge of the desk until needed. Chris spread out the samples on the desk and put a piece of tape on the top of each. She grabbed one and walked to the opposite wall where she pressed it against the wall at eye level. Slowly she walked, almost sideways, back to the desk, looking at the sample she had just placed on the wall. When she got to the desk she picked another and walked back to the wall. She repeated the process for the remaining three samples and then leaned against the desk and stared in deep thought. Just as she was picturing the room in the color of the first sample Frank returned from his project in the garage. “I’m glad you are holding up the desk. I would hate to see it fall over” he said.
“I am contemplating the choices for the wallpaper”.
Frank took a place next to Chris leaning against the desk
“I don’t care for that purple” he said.
“It’s not purple it’s blue”. Chris was glaring at him now with that; don’t push my buttons look.
“What ever color it is I don’t like it” Frank walked towards the door.
“I like it” Chris had her arms crossed in front of her.
“I don’t” he replied faintly as he walked down the hall.
“Well I do” Chris shot back.
“What, I can’t here yooooouuuu”.
Chris was more determined to use the wallpaper whether she liked it or not. She took a breath and sighed, pushed herself off the desk and started towards the kitchen to begin making dinner. Chris was a genius when it came to cooking and baking. She was always experimenting and usually with excellent results. There were occasional blunders, but that was to be expected. It was more instinct than science with Chris. She didn’t measure. It was dashes, pinches and handfuls, but it all came together perfectly. Chris stepped into the kitchen and called to Frank
“What do you want for dinner?” Frank responded with his usual wit when he didn’t know what was available.
“Lobster in linguini with a cream sauce”.
”Sorry no lobster” she replied.
“How about shrimp in linguini with a cream sauce”.
“No shrimp” Chris said with a hint of impatience. “We are having steak and asparagus” she added knowing Frank loved steak.
“Ohhhh, steak again?”.
“We could have stuffed peppers” she said with a smile. Frank hated stuffed peppers. “Steak it is”.
Chris was a master of the kitchen, but also the master of the mess. When she was done cooking it looked as though a tornado had hit the kitchen. Cleanup was big job, so Frank tried to pitch in when he could. With dinner completed and nothing left to do, but clean up the debris field left by the feast. Frank began his systematic gathering of the dishes. Large plates on the counter, smaller dishes and saucers on top. Knives, forks and spoons in a glass, each one washed as he took them out of the glass and left in the sink until they were all done. They were then rinsed and placed into drying rack plates upright, silverware in the holder in the corner. Chris brought the pans from the stove and put them on the counter. “Here ya go Mister Clean” she said, happy that she didn’t have to clean up. “I am going to kick back in the living room”
“Ok, find a movie. I’ll be in a minute”. Chris made her way to the living room looking in the laundry as she was passing by. She remembered the clothes that were in the dryer and decided they could wait until later. She arrived in the living room and went directly to the shelf where the movies were stored. She opened the door and looked at each title trying to find one that they had not viewed recently. Finally she settled on an old movie from the 1930’s. She knew Frank would approve because there were lots of scenes that were shot on real locations. You could see the old advertising on buildings and venders on the street. She liked it too. Chris got the movie ready to play and took her favorite place. Frank was still scrubbing the pans when Chris prodded him “Are you about done in there?”.
“Almost” he said loudly from the kitchen. “Just a couple of pans to go”. Frank wanted to be done with the dishes as much as Chris did. The food left on one of the pans was somewhat stubborn, so Frank broke out the steel wool and subdued the baked on coating. With that out of the way he did a quick wipe down of the counter, stove and table. Washed his hands and dashed to the living room. “What are we watching?” he queried. “It’s a surprise” Chris whispered. Chris started the movie and Frank smiled and said “Good choice, I haven’t seen this in a while. I like the street scenes”

The next morning the sun was shining. Frank was up ahead of Chris making their morning tea. Chris had to have her tea first thing to start her day. Frank had stashed the tea in the cupboard the day before. No searching for the tea box this time. He heard Chris moving about upstairs and had her favorite tea in the mug and steeping. Chris finally came slowly down the stairs and wandered to the stove. “What kind of tea did you make?”.
“Earl Grey”.
“Oooh I wanted Green”.
“Ooops didn’t I say Green, my mistake. It’s green”.
“Why did you say Earl Grey?”
“Because, my love, if I said green tea you would have wanted Earl Grey”.
“I would not” she quipped.
“Let’s go have our tea in the den and look at the wall paper samples”.
“I thought you hated wallpaper?”
“I just want to hate it even more”.
Frank turned to go to the den following the usual path towards the den. Chris was a few steps behind him stopping every few steps to look at something along the way. Chris arrived at the den to find Frank was already eyeing the samples on the wall.
“It appears that your blue has faded to purple” Chris was in the room standing next to Frank by this time. She took a couple of steps forward and leaned towards the wall.
“It has. The purple was in there all the time and the sun brought it out or did you do something to it?”
“I didn’t do anything to your stupid wall paper”.
“Why is it stupid?”
“Because I hate wallpaper”.
“You are saying that because I like it”.
“There might be something to that”.
Frank and Chris tuned to look out the window.
“I like those pink flowers by the birdbath”. Frank said.
“They aren’t pink, they are fuchsia”.
They both started back to the living room. As Frank got to the door of the den he took a waded up scrap of blue wallpaper from his pocket and through it in the waste paper basket.