Finding Technicolour Read online

  Our conversation ended with her sigh. That simple sound cut me. She pushed herself off the sofa and wandered to the bathroom. I kept silent. My eyes followed her until she left my sight. I thought that maybe she was giving me time to try and remember, or she was leaving it to Dr Wilson. Maybe she’d managed to accept the fact that I might have been opening up to him during the therapy sessions. I did know that she was pleased I was still going to them.

  I sat at the kitchen table. Mum asked me to write the shopping list. She told me she was grocery shopping as soon as she got home. I held the pen in my hand and wrote down what I wanted and other things I thought we needed. I twirled the pen around my fingers as I thought of other items. A feeling itched within me. I turned the page, and my hand began to draw lines with the black ink.

  Surprisingly the act didn’t feel foreign. It didn’t feel like it had been months since I’d drawn. Months since I’d created. I continued to form lines and my thoughts remained muted. I traced over lines I’d already drawn and I felt a small grin on my face. But the overshadowing part of my mind realised what I was doing. I dropped the pen on the table and looked at the paper. Looked at the face I’d sketched. It looked like it was meant to be someone from my past. Someone who I shouldn’t share a connection to. Someone I didn’t want to remember. His strong jaw. His cold eyes. The beginning shape of his thick hair. I shook my head in a hope to remove the thoughts that hadn’t yet formed. I ripped the page from the book, scrunched it up and threw it in the bin.

  Curled on the sofa, resting my face on my palm with the TV on, I wasn’t paying attention to the show. I was lost in a daydream.

  My phone beeped. It was a text from Kai.

  Kai: What are u doing at this very second?

  Me: At home watching TV.

  Kai: Do u want company?

  Mum walked through the front door. “P, I’m home!”

  I left the lounge, strolled up to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Hey Mum. How was your day?”

  “Uh super busy … and I think I’m engaged.”

  “Um, what?”

  “There’s this sweet patient, he’s in his early eighties, just had a hip replacement and he said to me yesterday, ‘If I make it out of this operation and you’re still single tomorrow, we’ll get married.’ So today, while another nurse and I checked up on him, he proposed and I accepted.”

  “Well, congratulations.”

  “Thanks P.”

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “I don’t know; we haven’t discussed dates. I think he’s really into the proposing phase – he asked me three times. But I mean I must be something special. Get this: I was told he only flirted with one other nurse for the rest of today.” Her laughter filled the room.

  “So did anything else exciting happen or did being proposed to take up most of your day?”

  “Well it’s kind of hard to top once you’ve been proposed to. But on my way home this douchebag cut me off! He sped right up and went from the far right lane all the way over to the left. I hate when they do that!”

  I smiled. She would never realise how much I missed her driving complaints. The way she just said things and apologised for them later – if she had to.

  “And I don’t really want to go food shopping tonight, but we have to have something in the cupboards other than those stale crackers. How was your day sweetheart? Everything been OK?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I feel all right. My day’s been OK. Um Mum, can Kai come over?”

  “P, what are you talking about? His car’s parked outside. I thought he was already here.”

  What? He was texting me, asking if he could come over when he was already outside my house?

  “P you don’t have to ask permission to be alone with him in the house, you know my rules. I trust you, and Kai seems like a nice guy. Plus if he hurts you, I’ll rip his balls off. Now, go fetch him. His car’s turned off so the heater can’t be on. We don’t want to be blamed for the kid dying of pneumonia. Plus, we can’t afford another lawsuit and, if it came to jail time, orange is not my colour.”

  I kissed her on the cheek again and made my way outside. The crisp cold attacked me from every angle. I wished I’d put a coat on. I marched straight to his car and thumped on the passenger’s window. Kai was looking down at his phone, probably waiting for my response. “Hey! You! We don’t want no stalking in this neighbourhood. So get out of here. You hear?” I laughed a little. My breath became fog. I opened the door and sat inside. It wasn’t much warmer, but it beat standing in the cold.

  “Oh my god! That scared the crap out of me.” Kai gripped the clothing near his heart.

  “What are you doing here, Kai? You text me asking if I want company but you’re already sitting outside my house.”

  “I thought that if I knocked on your door and you saw me there you would feel obliged to say yes. This way, you can say no.”

  “But if I’d replied yes, you would’ve been at my door in a matter of seconds. Don’t you think I would’ve asked how you got here so fast?”

  “Well my plan was to either charm my way out of that question or convince you that I have superpowers.”

  “Oh, OK then. So, are you coming inside?”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  I frowned at him.

  “Do you want company?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then inside I shall go.”

  We jogged to the front door and entered the house. I was ready to defrost. The warmth of the heater began to thaw my limbs. I could breathe easier and my movements weren’t as stiff.

  “Hi Emma,” Kai said.

  “Hello Kai.”

  I thought of her threat to rip his balls off and giggled.

  “So, what are your intentions with my daughter today then?”

  The question seemed highly inappropriate. One false move on his behalf and he would no longer have his testicles.

  “Well my intentions are just to keep her company. I’m predicting just a casual hang-out. Watch TV or maybe a movie while we dine on microwaveable popcorn.”

  “The popcorn might have to wait till I’m back from food shopping.”

  The three of us stood in the kitchen with different smiles on our faces.

  “OK then. Mum, why don’t you go shopping, bring us back the much-needed food and popcorn for the movie, and Kai and I will be in the lounge, hanging out.”

  I was happy Kai was there. He was a perfect example of me getting back out there. Proving to Mum I was fine. His presence was tangible evidence that I could use to fight my case with her, instead of just my words.

  When Kai and I were home alone, a feeling of anxiousness spread through my system. We were in the lounge, plonked on the sofa at either end. I wondered if he wished one of us had chosen to sit a little closer to the other?

  “So what are we watching? Or what have you been watching?” Kai asked.

  “Just channel surfing really. Right now it’s this reality show about rich bitches.” I knew the show offered too many colours, but for some reason I found it easy to watch. I allowed myself to throw myself into their drama and focus on the problems of their lives for a short while.

  “OK, give me the low down. What do I need to know?”

  “All you really need to know is they’re rich, some more than others, and the ones who are, love to rub that in every chance they get. There’s always drama and they always over-react and fight about everything and call each other disgusting names, all while diamonds sparkle and they try to cover up how much plastic surgery they’ve actually had done.”

  “Do you often watch this sort of stuff?”

  “Not really. Only if there’s nothing else on and I have nothing better to do.”

  We watched the show together and laughed at the housewives’ expense. I hid behind their commotion. Drowned myself in their world. Kai and I decided which rich bitches we liked and the ones who should donate all of their money to charity.

>   The show ended. We both fell silent. I suddenly thought of our third date and the way things had changed when I’d asked about his family and then the other day when he played me his song. His secret I still needed to decode.

  I stared at him, half-expecting him to say, “Tell me something” but no words left his lips. Was he reading me? What had he uncovered? What was he thinking? So many questions, so many thoughts journeyed through my mind but there was one that constantly came back to me. One that I had asked myself many times since we went on our second date. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Kai said.

  “Not to sound self-centred, but you’re the only person I know who knows about my car crash, who hasn’t actually asked me about it. Why?”

  “I just thought if you wanted to tell me, you would, ’cause you can. And I kind of don’t think that’s my place.”

  “What’s not your place?”

  “Your past.”

  I knitted my eyebrows.

  Kai softly smiled. He shuffled closer to me. My insides fluttered but then my mind grew dark.

  “What I mean is, what you want to tell me about your past is up to you. I would prefer no lies, though. You see, right now I’m part of your present, potentially part of your future. Maybe even your distant future. You don’t need to tell me what you did in the past. It might sound mean, but I don’t care.”

  “Oh …”

  Kai kept his sight on me. His brightness was almost overpowering.

  I tried to halt the question building in my throat, but the words escaped. “Why do you like me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “No really, why do you like me?”

  “You interest me … You’re creative, like me. I want to get to know you.”

  “But I’m nothing special.”

  “I think you are.” Kai smiled.

  “But,”

  “Not to sound rude, but you can’t tell me how I should feel about you. I feel how I feel. And I’m enjoying every second of getting to know you.”

  “Well, why can’t I get to know you then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you not ask about my past so you’re not obliged to tell me about yours?”

  “No … If you want to know about my past all you have to do is ask.”

  “But I did ask you. I asked about your mum, your dad, if you had any siblings, just like you asked about mine; but you shot me down.”

  “I didn’t shoot you down.”

  “Yes you did. You think me telling you about the crash was on my agenda for that day? I didn’t mean to tell you; it just slipped out. And if I hadn’t told you that day then you wouldn’t even know about it right now. I didn’t intend to tell you because I didn’t, I don’t, want your sympathy. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about your family, when I openly spoke to you about mine, even my loser dad.”

  “Because it’s kind of a difficult subject.” Kai said.

  “And you think me pouring my guts out to you every time we’re together, telling you things about me, is easy? Well Kai, news flash, I’ve been through some shit.” All of a sudden the memories played. They repeated over and over like they were glued to my senses. I couldn’t shake them away. I tried to think of a dark place I could crawl into. A place they could crawl into. Somewhere for me to hide.

  I rushed to stand and closed my eyes, then kept them shut tight. Tried to block the memories. I turned around and ran to the bathroom, locked the door and slid to the tiled floor. I tried to swallow my cries but the tears rolled anyway.

  I heard Kai’s footsteps coming towards the bathroom, but I didn’t want him to see me like that. He must’ve thought I was a freak.

  He gently knocked on the door. “Peyton …”

  I bit my tongue.

  “Peyton, are you OK? Do you need me to get you anything? Do you want me to call your mum?”

  “No!” No. Not my mum. She can’t know. She thinks I’m finally free of the darkness. She thinks I’m fine. “No. Thanks. I’m fine, Kai. I just … I’m fine.” I knew he knew I wasn’t. And somehow I knew he wouldn’t let it rest.

  Silence lingered. I felt him on the other side of the door.

  My tears stopped falling. The flashes retreated back into their dungeon. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to make Kai forget about what had just happened. It probably didn’t help that we were separated by a locked door. A part of me began to question if he was still there, or if my imagination was playing tricks on me. Because deep down I wanted him to be there. He didn’t have to say anything. Just be.

  “Kai?”

  “Yeah?”

  My heart melted.

  I didn’t say anything in response. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Peyton, you can tell me whatever you want. I know how that must sound after our little, well whatever happened just then, but you can tell me anything. I swear it won’t leave my lips. I can help. I want to help.”

  I didn’t want him to know. If he did, then he’d look at me differently. He wouldn’t look at me with wonderment. He wouldn’t light up when he saw me. He wouldn’t like me. I decided to steal his words. “Maybe another time.”

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  I found comfort in Dr Wilson’s office. The neutral tones were colours I was prepared for, colours I accepted, even though I still preferred grey. I placed myself on the edge of the chair. I was overflowing with despair.

  Dr Wilson sat opposite me. “How are you feeling today, Peyton?”

  The words almost didn’t leave my mouth. They were wedged in my throat. “I’m OK. How are you?”

  “I’m well thank you.” He leant towards the coffee table and grabbed his notebook.

  My breaths were shallow.

  “I’ve actually got something to show you.”

  I didn’t know what he was going to show me, but I was unprepared. I no longer wanted the neutral surroundings. I no longer wanted to acknowledge them. I wanted my darkness.

  Dr Wilson flicked through several lined pages and stopped when he got to a certain page. “Ah, here it is …” His grey eyes glanced to me then back to the paper then back to me. “Peyton, before I show you this, I want you to have an open mind.”

  I glared at him and swallowed the lump in my throat. He’s sending me off to a madhouse. He thinks I’m insane. I knew I shouldn’t have told him the truth. I shouldn’t have taken a chance on him. Why did I do that?

  “Can you do that for me?” He asked. His voice soothing. Rich.

  I found myself nodding. I didn’t remember giving my head that command.

  Dr Wilson shuffled to the edge of his cushioned chair. He stretched his arm towards me, offering his notebook. My eyes looked up at him. He nodded encouragingly. I reached out, my hand trembling slightly. I hoped he didn’t notice. I grabbed the book and retreated in my chair. Wishing it would swallow me whole.

  Looking down at the paper I saw a drawing. An inked sketch of a couple. The male and female figures had their backs turned as if they were walking away. They were dressed in winter clothes from the 1940s – hats, coats and gloves. Confused, my eyes remained on the drawing.

  “Now I know it’s pretty rough, but what do you think?”

  “You …” I cleared my throat. “You drew this?”

  Dr Wilson sighed. “Yeah …” He licked his lips. “What are your thoughts?”

  I took a breath. “It’s not too bad.”

  “Come on, be honest Peyton. I can take it.”

  I gazed down at the paper and scanned the sketch’s faults. “Well, I mean apart from the proportions being a little off, it’s pretty good. Drawn quite well. It’s obviously two human figures.” I still felt unsure. Like I was unable to fully grasp what was happening in that moment. I offered his notebook back. He took it from me. I took another deep breath. So he wasn’t sending me off to a madhouse?

  “You draw then?”

  “Not as much as I used to. Back in the day,
I was always sketching or doodling on scrap bits of paper. When I was younger I actually got into graffiti.”

  I snickered.

  “Well, you may not think it now, but I was a cool kid, Peyton. Believe it or not, I was almost a high-school dropout. A couple of my mates and I stayed out late and tagged walls. I got hooked on designing. I did loads of artwork for my friends’ skateboard decks. Then I moved on to cartooning. Through my art I got to know some kids that weren’t well off, they had family problems, some even lived on the streets, and I wanted to find a way to help them. So I did some volunteering at shelters and community groups then found myself studying counselling. Drawing is now more of an occasional hobby … But I would have loved to have an art space like the one you have.”

  I was quite impressed. I would never have pegged Dr Wilson as an artist. But his desire to help others was no surprise. The thought of art – my art, or lack thereof – reminded me of why I was so sad. It all hit me. I couldn’t help myself. I sobbed.

  “Peyton, what’s the matter?” Dr Wilson stretched to a side table and cautiously handed me several tissues.

  I tried to speak but I had difficulty getting oxygen into my lungs. The tears fell into my open mouth and I tasted their salt. Words stuck in my throat. I thought that that must have been how it felt to really cry. I knew why it felt so familiar.

  “Take your time, Peyton … Just breathe.” His smooth voice guided me through.

  Once the words came, I couldn’t stop them. “Because of what happened to me, I have this darkness and I try to run from it. The haunting feeling strikes me like a whip and I can’t shake it away. I can’t shake it. I try … I try my hardest to ignore it. To ignore it all. I don’t want to remember the details. But the harder I push it away, the stronger it returns and I dread the moment when I can’t bury it anymore. When I’m forced to remember. I try to keep it in. I don’t want it to see the light. It’s easier to hide things in shadows.”

  After my confession I cried another river of tears.

  “Peyton, it’s natural, after what you’ve been through, to feel lost. But casting yourself into what you call your darkness and shadows sounds like you’re pushing yourself away, like you’re pushing your feelings away and therefore you could be pushing away the people who can help you the most.”