Encased History

The dark blue environment glowed with tessellated waves.  Back and forth; darker and lighter.  A dull vibration of the space echoed from above.  A beat of crunching approached from the distance.  More, smaller beats grew with the base, accented by the occasional bark.  The rattling at the light end of the cavern beget a stream of unfiltered light, before slamming shut once more.

Four figures ambled down into the cavern.  One was tall with a long beard peeking out of the folds of his scarf.  Another was small with two pigtails bouncing along behind.  The final two were comprised of two Alaskan huskies in full winter coats.

At the bottom of the stairwell, the man set down his burden.  The child followed suit, eyes wandering about their new surroundings.

“A moment, luv,” grunted the man.  “You’ll see better once I have a light.”

The dogs circled the humans closely and them further out.  The chink of the man’s tools echoed softly further in.

A crackled and a light emanated from his hands.  “Thar it is.”

The waving blue light mixed with the glow of the large lamp, creating competing dances of blue and gold.  

Leaving the bags on the floor, the man held out his hand to the child.  “Alright.  Le’s go.”

The child grasped the outstretched hand with both of hers.  “Okay, Grandpa.”

Down and further into the cavern the little groups traversed.  Careful not to slip on the smooth floor.  The grandfather monologued as the child walk along, talking in every detail of the ice cavern. 

“This place wasn’t here when I first started making trips out here.  One of my buds told me about it being built, but it didn’t quite sink in that they meant to build it within the ice.  One day, he got me to actually come.  I acted much like you are right now.”

“Huh?”

The grandfather chuckled.  “Mesmerized, dear.”

“Mes…meser…mmm…”

One of the dogs barked and both bolted off.

The child reached out to them.  “No!  Grandpa!”

“They can only get so lost,” he reassured.  “As it is, they probably smelled just what we’re coming to see.”

They rounded a corner, where their warm light collided with several more warm lights.  The distant hall from their viewpoint was full of stretched shapes.  As they approached, however, the stretched chapes reflected the light of their lanterns, revealing a tight, frozen archway.

The man lifted the child over the threshold.  “Watch yer step, young’un.”

The child’s boots landed firmly on a black pelt.  As she stepped forward, the cavern opened up to a small area with wooden folding chairs and a wooden altar towards the back.  Candles lined the entire perimeter of the space, beating back the darkening depths the of the location.  Two mounds of clothing sat on one side.  One dog was sniffing at one of the huddled piles, while the other simply wagged her tail.

The pile not being sniffed at rose and turned, revealing another grizzled, bearded face.  His face was grim, but softened upon seeing the newcomers.

The grandfather approached with outstretched arms.  The two men greeted with bear hugs before turning back to the child.

“My granddaughter,” the grandfather pronounced proudly.

The grisly man put his hands on his hips.  “And her mother is okay with you bringing her this far out?”

“She’s nearby for her work.”

“Ah!  So this is a family affair!”  The new face chuckled before turning to the other pile.  “This is my wife.  I believe you met her at our wedding.”

“Ya mean the wedding that you had here?”

The second pile punched the other in the ribs before getting up herself.  “We have many important memories here,” she spoke.

The child looked from the elderly couple to the space and the shining walls.  “You got married here?” she asked, wide-eyed.

The old woman bent down to the child’s height.  “Yes.  It was the one place where we could have the wedding we wished for.”

“It was?”

The old man nodded.  “Yes.  We were both sent here for our research work, which led us to making,” he gave a knowing nod to the grandfather, “new friends we would otherwise have never met.  And with that came…well…”

The woman placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.  “How much does she know?” she put to the grandfather.  “About our situation?”

“Not much.  My daughter and her family have been cautious in that regard.  They want to make sure that she’s ready before hearing about ‘politics.’”

“And now?”

“And now she is ready.”  He picked up his granddaughter and set her on a pile of pelts.  “We agreed that she should start by hearing your story.”

The couple smiled and sat back down.  The child looked up at them expectantly.

“I suppose,” began the woman, “it shall first be stated that love is everywhere, including here and that’s is the purpose…”

Winter Wardrobe

The storm came quicker than expected.

But that’s not too surprising in the mountains.  Well, not if you’re accustomed to it.

Betty was new.  New to mountains, new to snow, new to driving, new to art.  Yet she was determined to try it all.  Some months had passed since her arrival to art school in the middle of Denver.  Middle in Denver terms, that is.  Betty grew up in the heart of Miami.  Having a mountain separating neighborhoods made her new city seem so wild, even isolated compared to her hometown.  Despite this, she took the first chance that arose to go hiking with her classmates.  She lost complete cell service before even starting the trail.  That took some getting used to.

Now the weather was cooling off.  Betty pulled out her warm gear, thinking that she was ready for anything.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”  The question came from one of her roommates, Clara.

“Yeah,” Betty responded, zipping up her hoodie.  “I need to dress warm.  I didn’t grow up with winter like you did.”

Clara silently nibbled on her chips, eyes narrowed.

“What?” 

Clara closed her eyes.

“What?  Oh, come on!  Out with it!”

Clara slowly opened her eyes.  “It’s not winter.”

Betty glanced outside.  Snow blew around in all directions.  Swinging an arm towards the window, she states, “And what is that?”

“Snow.”

“And doesn’t that mean winter?”

Clara crunched another chip.  “ ’s won’t last more than a day.  It’s still fall.”

“Uh…”  Betty stared out at the swirling white matter, which obscured everything.

“Also, you’re not dressed anywhere near warm enough for winter.”

Betty rolled her gaze down on her three layers.  “I’m not?”

“You need a coat to break the wind.  Ya got anything that even resembles a coat?”

“Of course I do.”  She pulled open the closet.

“I mean a coat, not that wimpy thing that can barely be called a jacket.”

Betty froze.  “Uh, then what do I do?”

Clara glanced out the window.  “Let’s wait a couple hours.  Then we’ll go shopping.”

“Couple hours.”

“Yeah, the storm won’t last that long.”

“But the snow…”

“The snow won’t last.”

“It’s can’t melt that fast!”

“True.  We’ll be wading through slush.  Which reminds me,” Clara scratched her chin, “you have boots, right?  Real boots?”

“Uh…”

“We’ll get those, too. Along with any real winter stuff that pops up.”

“But I have winter clothes!”  Betty pulled a sweater from her closet.  Shoving it in her roommate’s face, she declared, “I got this before even coming here.”

Not the least bit perturbed, Clara took the sweater and pulled out the side tag.  She sighed.  “This is made with polyester.  It won’t be warm.”  She handed it back.

“W-what?”

“That thing may look warm because it’s knitted, but it won’t be.  You need cotton.  Otherwise, you’ll freeze.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, look.  The snow’s letting up.”

Three hours later, Betty and Clara, plus two more friends were wading through the slushy parking lot at the mall.  No one was wearing jackets as the temperature was pushing past 60F.

Betty was blubbering.  “H-how?”  She looked around.  “The shrubs…They’re green.”

Mickey, one of the other friends, gave Clara a quizzical look.

Clara shrugged.  “Ya know the joke about the mountains.  If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.”

“But…How do you plan?  Anything?”

“Big closets?”

Betty glared at her roommate.

“I’m serious.”

Mickey interceded.  “You do plan.  You plan for storms.  Though normally, you just plan with ready substitutes.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Think of it this way.  The weather here is volatile, so you need to have clothes for more types of weather.  You have a reason to have a bigger wardrobe, so that no matter what, you’re ready.”

“And if I still don’t?”

“Eh, make do.  Otherwise, somebody is being pointlessly unreasonable.”

“And the shrubs?”

“What about the shrubs?”

“They’re green.”

“It hasn’t been cold enough for long enough.  The shrubs will just bounce back for now.”

Inside, Betty received a crash course on dressing for the cold.

“Use layers.”

“Check the coat’s temperature rating.”

“And the boots.”

“Should we check for ski pants?”

A couple hours later, the little group kicked back at a nearby restaurant.  Betty’s eyes glazed over from the information overload.

“Did we overdo it?”  Mickey asked while waving a hand before Betty’s face.

Clara waved her off.  “Nah, she’ll get over it.”

The last member of their group, Leila, changed the subject.  “I know this might be a bit early, but shopping for all this stuff reminded me about skiing.  When is the next trip?”

“Huh?”  Betty snapped to attention.

Clara nudged her.  “Don’t worry,” she reassured.  “We’ll make sure you’re good and ready for hitting the powder.”

Betty nibbled on her fries, thinking, So much to learn.

What Are Shoes to You?

“Hey have you heard?”  A lean coworker with thick glasses nudged me from my sole focus on making the break room coffee palatable.

A woman with dark hair twisted into a tiny bun spun around on her heels.  “I take it you’re referring to Rudy’s announcement,” she commented, joining the growing group at the water cooler.

My coworker gave a motion that in resembled offering a toast to her with a paper cup.  “So, you have heard.”  He turned back to me.  “Apparently, Rudy suddenly has the peanut allergy that so bad that he has to carry an Epipen.”

The other speaker from another department approached.  “Yeah, can you believe that?  He’s been fine all this time and suddenly he’s got ‘allergies’?”

“Something seems fishy –”

“I believe it.”

The other two turned to me with surprised looks on their faces. “You do?” they blurted together.

I shrugged.  “Sure,” I insisted.  “If you know anything about allergies it’s not that strange.”

The other two began to quibble.

“Sure…I guess…”

“Maybe…but as an adult…”

Seeing how the challenge to their topic was being taken, I spun on my own heel out of the break room.

Out in the hall were others, lingering, chatting as usual over the lunch break.  Three women hovered by the main office door.  One lifted a single heel for the others to see.  “The fall collection just came out,” she stated proudly.  Brushing her fingers along the length of her ankle, she added, “You know how I love boots, so I just had to get these.”

I bit my lip and turned the corner, wondering if the office policy against visible tattoos didn’t influence her preference for boots. 

Back at my shared office door, I momentarily looked down towards my own toes.  The action recalled the developing gossip by the water cooler. 

Peanut allergy that developed as an adult?  Sure, that was easy to believe.  What I’ve got.  Well, that’s a different matter.

I can’t see shoes.

Absurd, right?  But I really can’t see them.  No one has ever believed it either.  Not even my parents.  They tried tying a paper bag on my feet asking if I could see it.  I could see the bag on my feet just fine, just not shoes.   Any shoes, on anyone’s feet.  Including the assistant who is apparently hiding a tattooed ring of roses on her ankle.  Entire shoe displays just look like empty shelves.  I didn’t learn to tie laces until third grade.

Now, don’t get the idea that I don’t wear them.  I can feel them and their absence.  Oh, the times I forgot and stepped on something sharp.  Ow.  I wear them and I make a point to wear different, unique shoes.

For a long time, I simply picked whatever was comfortable and bought several pairs of the same shape.  When it came time to interview for jobs, there was one I was really hoping for.  I pulled out the shoes with the smoothest feel, thinking those would be the most presentable.  As I went about my day, I had the feeling that others were sneaking glances at my feet, but brushed it off as nerves.  The interview was another matter.  The man across the table raised a visible eyebrow when glancing down, but otherwise made no comment.  Afterwards, I went straight back to my apartment at the time.  My roommate, standing in the kitchen leaned out, asking what was up with my footwear.  Apparently one shoe was lime green and the other hot pink.

Needless to say, I didn’t get the job.

Also needless to say, my shoes all now have unique shapes so that I can tell them apart.

Back at my desk, I pull up the routine notice of this afternoon’s meeting.   There is an additional note sent to my person only.

I groaned.

While my footwear choices have improved over time, I still had the office reputation of wearing the wrong type of shoes with office wear.  Why are there so many different types?!  And why would that matter in a video call?!  And yet, I get a reminder to check my shoes before the customer arrives.  Others have joked about reviewing my shoes beforehand.  All attempts at getting someone to review my shoes were in vain. 

A knock of the door disrupted the frustration rabbit-hole.

“Hey, Ben.”  The door cracked open to reveal a sliver of my boss’s face.  “We have a new client.”

I grunted my assent and meandered over.  Pulling the door wide open, I see my boss, a woman with worse fashion taste than myself, characterized by her fly-away gray hair and another woman, tall and sleek in her black pantsuit.

My boss commenced with the introductions.

“Ben?  Ben!”

“Ah, yes,” I stammered.  “Yes, nice to meet you Ms…Ax.”

The name was hard to say, especially with the small dagger hanging from her ankle.