The Retaining Wall

I still remember the image of her, perched in her favourite pair of denim cut offs on the retaining wall that ran along the sidewalk outside of the ice cream shop. It was blistering hot; the sort of heat that sends ripples through the air as it radiates off of every surface it touches. Rivulets of sweat rolled down my back in a race to soak into the polyester blend of my t-shirt, pooling into a dark patch I couldn’t bring myself to care about.

Going for ice cream was her idea, of course. I would have been more than happy to stay firmly locked in the icebox of our apartment with the windows shut while the A/C blasted at max capacity, encasing us in a refrigerator like a bunch of produce prone to wilting in anything more than four degrees celsius. When she came tripping out of the bedroom with glee in her smile, there was nothing I could do but say yes to her ice cream ideas against my better judgement. She had always possessed this innate ability to make me toss all rationality out the window. It wasn’t the first time I’d succumbed to this power, and it certainly wasn’t the last. Not that I ever put up much of a fight.

There was a gelato place, she told me as we gathered our keys, and my wallet, before closing the door behind us. It was a place she always walked by on her way to work but had never taken the time to stop into. Something Italian Gelateria, she couldn’t quite recall the name. Anyway, what better a day than this one?

I could think of many better days, though I said nothing of the sort out loud. Namely, days when the temperature readings came back at least ten degrees lower than they did now.

The hallways of our building, garishly carpeted in a patterned relic of the 90’s, were empty as we made our way to the elevator. The building was quiet - still of any obvious activity going on behind any of its closed doors. The only noise came from the faint humming of the HVAC system working overtime.

In the lobby I hesitated, building up the nerve to leave the crisp, cool air in my past and enter into the thick, enveloping atmosphere that threatened to choke everything it could trap within its snares. The sudden surge of elemental change shocked my eyes and body, giving me pause as they raced to acclimate, eyes blinking furiously in the glare of the sunlight. As my vision cleared, the uncharacteristically empty streets came into view. A Saturday afternoon in the summer usually turned out droves of pedestrians as far as the eye could see, a sea of bodies trying to enjoy the day all at the same time. Today it seemed everyone was enjoying staying safe indoors, like I wished I was. But, she was still smiling, and so we made our way, pores opening wide as they prepared to release the rivers of sweat that would soon begin to flow.

The ice cream shop in question was only a few blocks away, a negligible distance normally, but under this sun we moved like molasses, oozing our way down the pavement. Even she, despite her buoyant spirits, didn’t seem able to move her legs any quicker.

What flavours was I going to get? She wanted to know. Was it a one-scoop or a two-scoop sort of day? Probably two, she figured, even if that meant an even tighter race against the sticky, melting beast that would threaten to devour our forearms.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. Mine too, but I was sure it didn’t have the same effect - an almost dewy look, coating her flushed-cheeked-face as her body tried to keep cool the foolish mind that brought it into this hardly habitable environment.

I could see the shop sign coming into view, a wooden board hanging above the door that featured a simple cone painted in what I’m sure were once vibrant colours, which had since faded beneath the weight of years and years of sun. I was surprised to see no winding line of people as I’d imagined we might find. A pit opened in my stomach, nagging at me with the new idea that perhaps they had closed for the day due to the heat and we’d taken this journey for naught. A day so hot it precluded the sale of ice cream, imagine that!

The full breadth of the store came into focus soon, relieving my fears and proving that no temperature could stop the sale of frozen dairy. She all but skipped ahead of me, like a giddy school-girl who’s just spoken to their crush, to yank the door wide open and let a gust of icy air hit me square in the face, stopping me in my tracks the same way the heat had done just fifteen minutes before. Only fifteen minutes? Our sweat soaked bodies looked like they had run a marathon in the depths of Hell. My lungs gulped desperately at the frigid air, as if they had been deprived for decades. Or at least the length of a marathon.

A few other people who had decided to brave the heat sat at scattered tables inside, clutching their cones and scoops like it was their lifeblood. There was no line, and the red-faced teenager behind the counter greeted us with a curt smile. Too hot for niceties, I supposed, even if you got to stand in an air conditioned room for the length of a shift.

Pistachio, her favourite, with a scoop of strawberry as a base, served up in a sugary cone. For me, two scoops of raspberry sorbet - more refreshing, I hoped. I handed the teenager a wrinkled bill, and waved away the change I didn’t want to carry around in my pocket.

Should we eat in the park? Her eyes pointed out the window, across the street to the small swath of grass featuring little to no trees. Meaning little to no shade to take respite in. So we left the oasis and dipped ourselves back into the hot bath that had swapped places with the regular air outside.

Actually, she decided as we stepped back outside, she didn’t feel like crossing the road after all. Here would be fine, sitting up on the retaining wall. And could I maybe run back in to grab some napkins, please? She forgot and her ice cream was already starting to drip!

I watched her for a moment, as she licked slowly around the base of the cone, scooping up the drip drip dripping pink and green mixture with her tongue, before flashing me a wide toothed grin that made my heart surge. Maybe it was the heat making me delirious, but I suddenly thought that I had never seen her so wonderfully before this moment.

I could have been at home, sitting on the couch - that bunch of produce tucked into the fridge. Instead, I was standing in front of her and her school-girl smile as we melted in time with the pistachio and the strawberry and the sorbet, destined to be nothing more than puddles together on the sidewalk. But in that moment, looking at her perched on that retaining wall - I was more than happy to be a puddle.