Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this cycle is to use these words: stain, wax, teeth, spirit, quiet.
Along with several short story collections, books of poetry, and two novels, Cathy has published three anthologies under her imprint, MacKenzie Publishing. The latest one is titled NO ONE SHOULD KISS A FROG, available on Amazon and other retailers—300 pages of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry by 75 authors around the world. She also has a call out for submissions for another anthology to be published in 2024, to be titled SUCH A LOSS. Contact SuchALossAnthology@gmail.com for submission guidelines.
Cathy continues with Melvin, a character she hopes to be soon done with, with this story, “Stains and Spirits”…
***
“Marie!”
Within seconds, his wife was within his view. Almost bowing before him as if he were a king. Well, he was, wasn’t he?
“Melvin, what is it? Are you okay?” Her head rotated left to right, right to left, as if she were a robot. She wasn’t, of course, but he sometimes wished she was so he didn’t have to listen to her incessant nattering. Robots could be turned off with a flick of the switch.
“I just had a revelation, Marie.”
“A revelation?” She peered at him.
“Yes. I think we need to get our teeth cleaned. Bleached, maybe. Wouldn’t you like to have white teeth?”
She stared. “What the hell, Melvin. What’s brought this on?”
Ha, wouldn’t you like to know. “We have stained teeth, Marie. Don’t you think our teeth are stained?”
She glared at him. “What? My teeth are fine, Melvin. I was just at the dentist last week. The hygienist told me she’d never seen such clean teeth.” She paused, examined his face. “Yours aren’t exactly white. Not with your implants. Your teeth are all over the colour map.” She smiled, revealing perfect, pristine teeth.
It was his turn to be stymied. He couldn’t help he’d had a few rotten teeth. But his gums were healthy. He’d had four implants. Couldn’t help the colouring was off.
“You have stains, Melvin. And you leave toothpaste all over the counter.” She sighed. “You’re helpless. Soooooooooooooooo helpless.”
“Marie, what you talking about?”
“Oh, Mel. I truly, truly give up.”
“Marie, don’t do this to me.” He was quiet for far too long. It took every ounce of his energy to not open his mouth and spout non-niceties. Had his idea backfired? He’d thought if he (and Marie) went to the dentist and got their teeth whitened that the next time he went down to the lake that Kailani might appear. Perhaps she was turned on by white teeth. Or was she just a spirit? Maybe not even that: maybe a figment of his imagination. Still…wouldn’t he—anyone—like pristine white teeth? Until this moment, he hadn’t realized his wife’s teeth were that perfect. Thought it might be a bit of a husband/wife bonding, too. Wasn’t all about Kailani.
He opened his mouth. Shut it just as fast. Where the heck had Kailani been? It’d been forever since he’d seen her. He’d almost forgotten she ever existed.
Marie stomped out of the kitchen as if she’d read his mind, that she knew about Kailani.
No, she couldn’t. Marie couldn’t read minds. She’d never even had her fortune told. “I’m safe,” he mumbled. But he’d sure like to see Kailani one more time. It was November. He’d been slack. The kayaks were safely put away in the cabin. If he didn’t see her soon, he wouldn’t see her until the spring or summer of 2024—if then.
He raced after Marie. Found her in the bathroom, where she always disappeared to when upset. “I’m sorry, Marie. I lost my cool.”
“Mel, it’s fine. I’m just in a horrid mood today.”
He pondered. “How about if I light some candles? We can sit around. Maybe neck a bit. William’s not going to be home for another hour or so, right?”
He heard her sigh from behind the closed door. “Not tonight, Mel. The candles you bought are cheap. There’s always too much wax on the counter. I don’t feel like cleaning tonight.”
Really? He was trying to play nice and all she cared about was a bit of wax on the counter? He combed his fingers through his hair, wishing, as always, that he had more and that it wasn’t so grey. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, walking away. Perhaps he’d try again tomorrow. If, of course, Marie got a good night’s sleep. If not, who knows how she’d react.
He peered out the window. Wasn’t dark yet. Was there a chance Kailani might be down on the beach despite the cold weather? It wasn’t quite six o’clock. Still light enough to see her if she appeared.
To heck with Marie! He grabbed his coat out of the closet and a flashlight from the cupboard and headed outside.
The beach was deserted as he knew it would be. Decks & Docks had removed their docks from the water a couple of weeks ago. He stood on the dilapidated floating dock that had been on land for several summers. Next season, he’d have to tear it apart and replace it.
“Kailani, where are you?” he mumbled. He scanned the lake. Looked at the sky. Nothing.
“Kailani!” he couldn’t help but shriek. He looked around, hoping neighbours, if out and about, were out of earshot. They’d think he was crazy if they heard him. He hated to admit it, but perhaps he was. He was beginning to think Kailani had never been real. That he might be crazy.
He sighed and jumped off the dock. There was always next year, albeit an eternity until kayak weather.
To heck with Kailani! To heck with Marie! Tomorrow he was calling Portside Dental. “White teeth here I come!” If nothing else, at least he’d smile more while dreaming of Kailani during the upcoming winter months.
Halfway up the path to the house, he stopped. What was that? Positive he’d heard something, he turned. The shoreline was obscured by trees; he was too far away. But he could see part of the lake that disappeared into the horizon.
What? It looked like a witch. On a broom. Isn’t that how witches travelled? But…Halloween had been on the thirty-first. Today was November second. He looked again. No, not a witch. Wasn’t it Kailani? Yes, it was. And the blue! What? Yes, she was flying high in the sky in a blue kayak.
“Not my kayak!” He flailed his arms. Clenched his fists. “You better not be in my Blue Origin!”
He raced to the cabin. Opened the door.
No blue kayak. Only the two green ones.
***
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/
Writing Wicket 