Episode 04
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The movie theater wasn't the popular place to be on a Tuesday afternoon, but there was still a fair crowd of people, mostly moms shepherding their children to the feature of the day. Cascadia guessed it was still too early for dads to be off work yet, or they would rather watch something a little more action-oriented. For their part, the lack of action was just fine, as was the price of admission. The scheduling board above the ticket windows listed films released many months ago, some of which could already be found on video. Cascadia did have a VCR, but they had both agreed that a movie was better experienced on the big screen.
The framed posters that lined the walls of the lobby area ranged from the current lineup of films to some that had come out years ago, ones the staff evidently liked too much to take down. Ash smelled the warm popcorn as they stood in line for a ticket. He checked the board; the showing they wanted hadn't changed from the time listed in the newspaper. He thumbed through his wallet, a few cards and a couple of bills, then concernedly checked his other pockets. "Do you have those coupons for the tickets? I can't find them."
Cascadia pulled herself away from the posters and the people. "Umm, I thought I got them, they were on my desk this morning when I left for class…" She searched through her own belongings also, periodically moving forward as the line progressed. The embarrassment washed over her. "And, apparently they're still there."
He felt a flare-up coming, like the stove at dinner last night. "Oh my gosh, Cascadia…" He tightened his face.
She winced. The extra three syllables of her name were little pricks at her heart. Three embers tossed into the water, sending up little clouds of steam.
Ash knew he should have taken care of it himself, but he had wanted to give her a chance after last time. "Okay," he said more steadily. "Let's just go home then. We can watch TV instead."
Cascadia steadied her breathing. She prayed for the grace to not start a fight right there in public, and mercifully, she got it. "No, don't worry about it. We're already here. I'll pay for both tickets. It was my mistake, so I'll make amends for it now."
Ash scratched the side of his head, fingers through his short black hair. "Alright." He had felt a good yell coming on, but once again she helped him to see the situation in perspective. She had calmed the flame back down to embers.
The theater darkened while the projector whirred to life. Cascadia could hear it, as they were in one of the highest rows. Their only neighbors were a couple of older kids who wanted to assert their independence; all the other patrons, both young and motherly, were down in the middle and front rows. Ash and Cascadia huddled together so they could whisper jokes and commentary to one another more easily. The adjustable arm rest was down, a hard plastic chaperone.
The first preview began with scenes of an idyllic family Christmas; it took her a moment to realize how long ago this movie had been initially released, a testament to its enduring popularity. A montage of holiday scenes quickly grew darker, black shadows stretching across the white snow. From what she could piece together, an evil force was threatening the happiness of the world at Christmastime and the protagonist took on the literal mantle of Santa Claus to defeat it, aided by the spirits of the nine reindeer. It sounded interesting, she wanted to see if it was available on video yet.1
As the second trailer started, Cascadia leaned over to her companion. "Ash," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry I forgot the coupons. Please forgive my trespass."
Ash shifted his gaze from the screen to her eyes. Blue and gray reflected the bright colors of the film in front of them. He didn't need to deliberate. "I'm sorry I yelled at you in line. And that I embarrassed you in the diner."
"Oh, and I gave you a hard time about a job."
"Okay. Please forgive my trespass too."
She nodded, then extended her hand, little finger raised. He did the same, and they linked their smallest fingers. By joining together through their weakest digits, their bond was that much stronger.
Ninety minutes later, full of optimism and hope for the future, the positive message of friendship and teamwork had thoroughly soaked into their minds. Their destination now was the bus stop at the other end of the complex.
Ash stretched out his back after sitting for so long. "So, was it as good as the book?"
"It wasn't a book, it was a graphic novel, but yes. I didn't agree with most of the voices, Aidan did them totally differently when he read it to me when we were kids. But, it was nice to watch a kid's movie that wasn't full of songs every few minutes."
"Better than being full of tears, right?"
Cascadia smirked. "Okay, odd Scripture reference, but sure."
Ash kept it rolling. He held up his hand to the side of his mouth, to pantomime parentheses. "This is Israel's song."
She picked it up. "They will say, the Lord has done great things for us."
"The Lord has done great things for us!" he echoed.
Each was glad that the rough moods of the afternoon had been washed and burned away, respectively. Ash smiled. "We should start reading Vespers every night again, it was fun."
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The bus ride back to their apartment building was one of their shorter journeys, since they didn't have to change buses in University Square first. The sun was nearly touching the horizon now, casting much of the streets in golden twilight. Cascadia wanted to wax poetic about the colors and the scenery, but it was difficult with her mind still on the movie. Too many thoughts in the water at once.
"I need to stop by the store on the way," Ash was saying, consulting a scrap of paper from his pocket. "I ran out of cumin and turmeric."
Cascadia turned to him, eyes wide with alarm. "Oh no, we can't have curry night without cumin and turmeric!"
"That's why I'm going to fix that problem," he said confidently.
"Oh, did you get that ghee recipe I sent you? You'd said something about wanting to make it yourself, since it was so easy."
"Umm…" he patted down his pockets. "No?"
She rolled her eyes. "I sent it to your email, so you could print it out if you want."
"Ah… I haven't checked it in a while…"
Instead of arriving at the stop near the church, this route deposited them closer to the apartment building. The neighborhood market nestled into the street corner was easy to spot, but even easier to smell. Pungent aromas of spices and peppers invited locals just as readily as the hand-painted advertisements on the windows. Tortillas and naan bread, samosas and tacos, and the house specialty, the currito.
As soon as Cascadia walked through the door, she greeted the young lady behind the counter, a girl near her age with brown skin and black hair, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt with a green vest over. "Hello Jacinta," she said, going over to speak to her.
"Hi Cascadia," she answered in a subdued tone. "Hi Ash," she said to the same as he entered, and he waved back.
Cascadia continued. "So, your being here means Lakshmi isn't feeling any better?"
"Yeah, she might be out all week."
"Sorry to hear that," she said, reading the countertop with its prices for calling cards to two different countries. Cascadia listened to Jacinta’s lament over having to make twice as many tortillas with her mother every day until they could get more help.
Ash was relieved to see Jacinta on duty and not her sister. He didn't want to be fawned over tonight; it was embarrassing. He breathed in the deep smell of mixed spices: ginger and chili peppers, cardamom and mustards, what he liked to call 'chipotle masala.'
Instead of going straight to the shelf with the bagged spices, he browsed through the packed aisles. Colorful piñatas hung beside ristras of dried chili peppers. Boxes of rava dosa, which looked like they were supposed to be made into pancakes. Whole dried shrimp and bags of banana chips. It was always an exciting experience, but he had to make certain he stuck to his budget, which was whatever money he had in his pockets.
The spice racks were at the back of the store, near the meat counter. Chicken, pork, and fish shared space with shrimp, goat, and lamb. A dark-skinned, smiling fellow with round glasses and a short beard hailed Ash from behind the counter, speaking Spanish.
"Hola Mr. Gopinder," Ash replied. He chatted with the proprietor for a few minutes in their shared tongue, the elder giving his recommendations about the best ingredients for his latest curry creation, and Ash offering his own insights. They parted ways, and he found Cascadia in the aisles examining various brightly colored candies.
"Is this the brown sugar one I like?" she asked, holding up a rich brown confection on a stick.
"Um, no, that's tamarindo."
She made a face as sour as the flavor. "No way."
He picked up a dark red lollipop instead. "Here, jamaica is usually sweeter."
Cascadia balked. "You mean that big, crunchy potato thing you put on tacos? Those aren't sweet."
"No, that's a jÃcama. This is hibiscus flower."
"That sounds better." She grinned, even more as he added it to his handful of spice bags and package of naan bread and headed to the front of the store.
"Okay, new rules," Ash said in a determined tone, putting his hands on the kitchen table, "especially after what happened last time. We each take a bite, whoever gives up first does the dishes. And no talents, promise?"
"I promise," Cascadia answered, wrapping up her half-eaten jamaica lollipop and setting it down next to her utensils. "Although, you have to admit that diluting each bite with extra water from the air was a fabulous idea."
"It was pretty clever."
The sun had already gone down, so the single light fixture on the ceiling of Ash's apartment cast a yellow pallor over the room. He had laid out the usual spread: three bowls of thick vindaloo, both with tofu and potatoes for simplicity, two glasses of milk, and a plate of naan between them. The bread was cold; Cascadia didn't like it toasted and Ash preferred to toast his manually.
"I have been practicing, though," Cascadia said wryly, "even without my talent." With the cup in her hand, she drew the milk out and curled the stream into a little knot. "This is the same recipe as last time, right?"
"Right. I think we're at a good place." He rolled his neck on his shoulders. "Ready?"
"You know I am," she said, waggling her eyebrows.
"Then go," Ash said, reaching for the spoon and eating a delicious fiery mouthful. He grinned at the expression of pain on Cascadia's face she was fighting to suppress. Even with her preferred technique of swallowing the spoonful right away, it still did damage on the way down. By the second spoon, he could see the tears forming in her eyes, but they evaporated without her wiping them away.
For his part, he was confident he could eat the whole bowl, and then some. He kept the smug look off his own face as his opponent struggled before him. After seven spoons, Cascadia slapped the table with her palm.
"I give up," she said in a strangled voice, taking a drink of the blessedly cool milk and following it with a bite of bread.
"Not bad," Ash said, grilling a piece of bread on his palm. "A more accurate measure of your skill than sixteen, huh?"
"Hey, I need all the advantages I can get over you." She put her hands on her hips. "It's not fair, chili pepper heat isn't really heat, you shouldn't be un-spiceable too."
He shrugged. "I guess I'm caliente-proof and picante-proof."
"Oh well," Cascadia said, pulling the third bowl of soup toward her, free from any kind of heat. "Maybe you'll use up all your resistance eventually and I'll be able to beat you then."
He smirked. "Doubt it."
She gestured with her spoon. "At least my talent helps me do the dishes faster…"
Cascadia was awoken by a high-pitched beeping. She slapped at the alarm clock, bleary-eyed, but the noise would not abate. After finally getting one eye open and pushing aside the coppery curtain of her hair, she could see it was two a.m. She sat bolt upright, her loose hair spilling around her. It was the other alarm.
She pushed off her embroidered quilt and switched on the nickel-plated lamp beside her. Now she could clearly see the readout on the wireless oven thermometer: one hundred fifty degrees and rising. She silenced it.
The exterior lights from the courtyard shone through the curtain despite the best efforts of the blinds, so she had a slightly lower chance of bumping her knee or knocking over a pile of books. She got a sweater from the wardrobe, pulled it on over her one-piece nightgown, and slipped on her house shoes. It was a short walk out of her apartment, locking the door behind her. She opened up Ash's as quietly as possible.
It felt like walking into a sauna; the heat poured out into the hallway. She slipped inside and shut the door as quietly as possible. Ash lay on his bed, the sheet he slept under having been kicked off to his waist.
He was mumbling something, it sounded like "get out," and she was fairly sure she knew what he was dreaming about. She approached his bed slowly, gauging the heat level as she went. Getting closer, she could see the probe end of the thermometer tied to the headboard, faithfully doing its job.
Cascadia put her hands gently on Ash's forehead, drawing water from the warm air to moisten his skin. A special kind of anointing, a laying on of hands unique to her, and to him. As she applied her ministrations, she meditated on the providence that had brought them together, for them to each have such unique and complementary talents. His murmuring and shaking lessened.
She didn't need the other end of the thermometer to know the temperature in the room was lowering. She put a little water on his wrists as well, since he wouldn't wake up unless she completely drenched him. Smiling at that particular memory, she pulled up the sheet and whispered a prayer before going back to her own apartment.
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Hmm… That seems familiar…