Finding Technicolour Page 9

  “But I don’t want them to know … What would my mum think? My brother would probably kill him. And I … I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to relive it.”

  “Sometimes, to get past certain moments in our lives, the only way is through.”

  The rest of the session was formed with a mixture of me crying and trying to listen to Dr Wilson. His voice. His words. I needed him to anchor me back to some form of stability. I needed his kindness. His advice to help me with my fight. But I knew what he said wouldn’t change my past. It couldn’t change my past.

  Any of it.

  Chapter EIGHTEEN

  For the third day in a row, Kai invited himself over to my house. I think he felt some sort of responsibility, because he was the only one – other than myself and Dr Wilson – who knew I wasn’t stable. They were the only ones who had seen me break down.

  There he was. I didn’t want him to be. But for some reason I couldn’t turn him away. There was a lure about him. Something that seemed to make it OK that he was near. Half of me wanted him to be there and the other half needed him to leave. The fact that Kai kept coming around to see me made my brain twist with thoughts. I naturally latched onto the idea that he was another person I had to convince I was OK.

  His presence was bright but his eyes were weary. I knew he had questions. I also knew he wouldn’t push me for answers. What happened before, when I locked myself in the bathroom, was part of my past. And he said he didn’t care what I did in my past. I wondered if his personal philosophy would change if he were present in that part of my past. I wondered if because he was there – caught up in my breakdown – he now had a right to ask me what was going on.

  Underneath it all, I felt like I was no longer the girl who intrigued him. I was no longer a girl he would be interested in. How could someone like me or want me, if they knew what had happened to me? I couldn’t help but feel that I was just a charity case. That he just had a need to check up on me and make sure I was still alive, and that need would slowly dwindle when he found a different way to help me. I was worried that that might include telling my mum.

  Kai and I settled on the sofa. I wanted a distance between us. I didn’t want him close to me. Not then. The TV was on but I didn’t know what was playing. I felt like I had just created another armoured wall that Kai would have to climb. But that wall wasn’t just for my want to be strong in front of him or for my protection, but for his. I looked into his luminous eyes. They were beautiful. They could’ve outshone my pessimism – if I’d let them. I wondered when the day would come that I wouldn’t see them anymore.

  “You know, usually when people first meet me they ask if I’m wearing contacts.” Vacantly, I searched his face. “No contacts over here, baby.”

  I smiled weakly. His attempt to lighten the mood and make me happy simply drowned in the haze of my grey state.

  “When I was younger, my mum told me that people with one blue eye and one brown eye can look upon heaven and earth.”

  My heart lifted slightly at the mention of his mum. He’d never brought her up before. I hadn’t mentioned her or his family since our quarrel. I wanted to give him time. I wanted him to trust me. I wanted to know about her. I wanted to know about him.

  “Tell me what you see.”

  Kai smiled. “Well, in heaven I’ve found a pretty awesome spot for just the two of us. There’s enough space around for both our families, but that little spot is just for you and me. And here on earth I see so much that I want to explore. So many adventures. So many new experiences.”

  His smile was bright – it was almost a glare. I wanted to find a dimming switch. That part of me was wary about letting light in. The other part of me wanted the light to reign – let myself soak in his colours. The colours I secretly missed. They were like the colours I used to splatter and bead on my canvases. The colours I used to blend over hot press paper. I liked the way he saw the world. Everything in technicolour.

  My thoughts drifted to the drive home from hospital and being thankful for the grey day, knowing I wasn’t ready for colour. I still didn’t feel ready for it. Sometimes when I thought about it too much, I realised that without Kai around my world was boring and grey and I tried to paint it darker because I still needed the shadows to hide in. Deep down I knew having Kai around was helping me. Changing me. His unique perspective was helping me grow courage. Making me think that one day I could be more than OK.

  A sudden urge came over me. My stomach twisted. I ignored my doubtful whisperings. I rose from the sofa, grabbed Kai’s hand and tugged at his arm. “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I didn’t answer. He’d know soon enough.

  We drifted through my house in silence. I stopped us in front of the door. I released his hand, even though a part of me didn’t want to.

  “This is the inside entrance to my Art Cave.”

  It was where my secret was hidden.

  “Just like with your songs, I put hidden messages and my secrets in my work. That’s why I don’t want to go in there … There’s something in there that reflects the dark in me. Something I’m trying to hide from. It will make me remember my crash and everything else. I guess I’m scared. Afraid. I don’t think I’m ready for it … I don’t want to be ready for it.”

  Kai viewed the cream painted door. His eyes travelled up and down as if he could see through the wood. I clenched at the thought of him seeing inside. He gently took my hand in his.

  Both staring at the door, I was relieved he didn’t ask me if we were going in, even though I knew he wanted to. He was giving me time. Space. He was giving me what I needed. He was just being there. And for me, at that time, it was enough.

  We remained at the door. Our hands still locked. I grew fidgety.

  “Lunch?” he asked.

  A week later my therapy session felt like a welcome part of my week. It might not be what I wanted, but it was what I needed.

  It felt different as I stepped into the office – into the next hour of my life. I had come to realisation that Dr Wilson knew of my past yet he treated me no differently. That thought made me consider telling Mum, but my body shuddered at the thought.

  As I made my way to a seat, my eyes lingered over the table, hoping to see a drawing, a doodle. I wanted to see something new. He was one of few people who truly knew how much art was my passion and how much I was missing it. At times, I wasn’t entirely prepared to accept the fact that he was someone I could relate to.

  I sank into my usual cushioned chair. Dr Wilson leant back opposite me. His ankle rested on his knee. His eyes were mesmerising. I immediately wanted to draw and paint them. I hadn’t really thought about drawing something new until he’d showed me his sketch. “How are you today, Peyton?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I’m doing very well, thank you.”

  “I went to my Art Cave. That boy came round and I showed him. Just the door. We didn’t go in. But he knows where it is now. He knows that’s where I keep my dark side. Where it hides. Where I keep my secret. He’s the only person who’s been near the door. Near my art. Near that darkness.”

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  I bit my lip and let it slide through my teeth. “OK. I think … There’s something about him I can trust. And that makes me feel both happy and scared.”

  “That’s a big a step you took, Peyton, letting someone else near a personal space. You should be very proud of yourself. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t go in, the fact that you were brave enough to share that moment with someone is a great step.”

  I nodded, a little longer than any sane – stable – person would. Maybe the motion of moving my head had become a natural impulse. Something my body knew it needed to do to ward off the demons.

  “Dr Wilson?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think …” I bit my tongued. Paused my thoughts. “Never mind.”

  “Peyton, I can’t even
imagine how you’re feeling. What you’ve experienced is something life changing and everybody deals with it differently. Don’t think for a second that what you’re feeling is wrong. That’s how you’re feeling. Please know that what you wanted to ask me right then, you can. You can say anything in here. Believe me when I tell you this is a safe place. Your safe place.”

  Tears dripped. My lips quivered. “Who’s going to want me? Who’s going to be able to look past what I can’t even bear to think about?” I set my blurry sight to the ceiling. “I’m scared that I’ll always be alone. That because I’m pushing my thoughts and my feelings away, that I’ll keep stopping myself from allowing something good to happen to me. Because it feels wrong to let happiness in. It doesn’t feel safe to let the light in because what if it shines too brightly and it uncovers everything about that day? If I can’t even bear to look at myself, then why should someone else?”

  “It might seem hard to believe, but people can surprise you. Even yourself.”

  I cleared my throat. I couldn’t deal with this right now. I needed a subject change. “Have you been sketching?”

  “I have actually.”

  A part of me felt lighter. I wanted to see what else he had produced. I wanted to keep my mind from my art. From my thoughts.

  Dr Wilson flicked through the same notebook and stopped on a page. He leant towards me and handed me the book. I took it, and looked at the drawing.

  “How’s this one?” He said. “You can be honest. Like I said before, I can take it.”

  My eyes trailed the image. “Um … Dr Wilson … this is … unique.”

  “And?”

  “Kind of terrible actually. Nothing like the other one you showed me. I mean,”

  “Go on.”

  “Well … I know art is expression, and if you were going for the concept that a four-year-old drew it, then you succeeded.”

  “Ouch. I expected you to be a little less harsh.” He grinned.

  “Well this is therapy. Isn’t this where you’re supposed to let your demons out?” I rolled my lips then looked at his drawing. I tilted my head. “What’s it supposed to be, anyway?”

  “Tell me what you see. You’re the better artist after all.”

  “How can you say that? You haven’t even seen my art.”

  “I don’t doubt your art skills, Peyton. I can tell it’s something you’re greatly passionate about. And when the time is right you’ll be back in your Art Cave creating again. Well then, art critic, tell me what you see.”

  I looked at his creation. “I see a young girl’s face. Her eyes are a little skew-whiff, which could represent two points of view or an imbalance in her life. Her hair’s all over place, which clearly represents her wild nature or potential madness. She has a wide smile that shows her willingness to continue. Her willingness for adventure.” I quickly handed his notebook back to him. The description sounded too familiar.

  “Wow … I didn’t know it said all that.”

  “It’s all in the eye of the beholder. Obviously it means something different to you.”

  Dr Wilson chuckled. His smile grew. “It’s an impromptu sketch of my niece. She’s a wild child. Full of energy.” He turned the page of his notebook. “I’ve never been good at drawing facial features, unless they’re cartoonish. I can never make them look realistic. I’ve tried but I can never get them right.”

  The air suddenly shifted, altering the mood. Somehow, I knew his next words were going to be more serious than him asking me to critique his drawing.

  “Do you believe you’ll be ready to go into your Art Cave one day?”

  My heart slowly thumped. I took a breath. “I have to believe. If I don’t, I know I’ll get lost in the dark and then I’ll be forced to fight this battle with myself forever, and I know that I won’t win that war.”

  Chapter NINETEEN

  The next day Kai arrived at my house. I opened the door. There he was. A diverted smile on his face. His watery eyes were barely open and the skin around them was red. He stretched out his hand. “These are for you.”

  I took the bouquet of flowers and admired their bright beauty. “Kai, what’s wrong with your face?”

  “Um … I’m allergic to flowers.” He sneezed.

  “Oh my god. Get inside and wash your face!”

  As Kai washed his face in the bathroom, I arranged the flowers in a vase and left them on the kitchen table. I sat awkwardly in the lounge, hoping he was OK and wondered why he’d do such a thing.

  A couple of minutes passed.

  With a fresh face, Kai walked into the room, with his guitar in his hand. I hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it with him because of the commotion with the flowers.

  “Are you OK?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Kai smiled.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I wanted to bring you flowers.”

  “But you’re allergic to them.”

  “I wanted you to have them.”

  “Thank you. They’re really nice. And that was really sweet, but please don’t do that again. It looked like your face was melting off or something.”

  Kai chuckled. His mop of hair almost covered his eyes. I wanted to sweep it from his face just so I could see them. But he flicked it so I didn’t have to. My body tingled at his warm colours, like a tropic sunset. Part of me wanted him to come closer. Wanted him to lean in to me and kiss me. Suddenly, I felt unsure. Questioned if I should be feeling this slight temptation.

  “So Peyton, are you ready for this guitar lesson?”

  Kai and I had messaged a few times over the days. He wanted to teach me something he knew that I didn’t. I mentioned I’d never played guitar and I’d always wanted to learn.

  “I guess I’m ready.”

  “I’ll have you playing like the best of the best in no time. Then we can start up a world-famous band. Obviously we’ll have to do auditions to find our other members. Unless you just want to be a duo …”

  “Well Liam can play the drums. Actually he and his friends used to come around and jam. And I know a little on the drums, too.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. We should keep them in mind.”

  Kai and I spent the morning playing guitar. My mind was distracted by thoughts I tried to ignore. I wondered what Dr Wilson thought about me. I wondered what he wrote in his notebook. Most of the time he just listened to me. It was rare for me to see him write something. Which was why I always wanted to know what it was when he did. During our sessions, sometimes he’d draw. Doodle, actually. I watched as he twisted his pen over the paper. My intrigue grew. He never showed me those small sketches and when I left the therapy room, a burning desire pulsed through me. A desire to create. On the drive home, after Mum had picked me up, I’d loosely latch onto that desire. My thoughts gleamed with what to draw or paint. My heart beat with trivial excitement. But by the time we pulled into the driveway and I stepped inside, the desire fled.

  During the guitar lesson I strummed at the strings and listened to Kai’s kind instructions, but my heart wasn’t in it. I knew Kai noticed there was something wrong with me; he stopped his teaching and just strummed it himself. I liked the sound. He played a little tune. I wondered if it was an original. I wondered if there were words that went with it. It was nice to hear the chords waver through the air, instead of silence. That was the usual sound – along with the ticking of the clock – I heard when I was home alone, unless the TV was on – and I would only put that on to soothe my thoughts and distract my mind. These days I hardly played music. Only when I needed to drown my sorrows – myself. I wasn’t prepared for all of the feelings music could bring.

  I wasn’t ready for those colours.

  A part of me wanted to tell Kai something, so he didn’t leave thinking I was a complete freak or a waste of time. I felt that maybe he thought I was playing with him – but I wasn’t – that’s just how I was. That was just how I felt. Scared. Grey. Stuck.

  “Tell me something, Peyton Swift
. Something new …”

  I glanced at him. It’s like he’d read my thoughts. I silently debated my response as we sat on the carpet. Kai leant against the sofa and continued to strum his guitar. He looked so comfortable there, like he was making himself at home. I kind of liked that.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve been going to therapy.” My brain registered the words after I spoke them. I had debated on telling him this, but thought every part of me had agreed not to speak it. “Sorry …”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Well it’s not something you say in casual conversation.”

  “You already know you can tell me anything, Peyton. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’ve only been going since the car crash.” I rushed my words, trying to prove to him I wasn’t a freak. A small part of me was ashamed for seeing a therapist. Sometimes just the mere thought of it made me feel uncomfortable. Especially now Dr Wilson knew my darkest secret. Almost every part of me hoped Kai still liked me. “I just talk about things to do with that.”

  I stopped talking. My heart beat fast within my chest. Was he judging me? Did he think I was weird? My eyes searched the lounge and landed on the TV remote. Should I turn the TV on? Make him forget about what I had just told him?

  Kai continued to strum the strings. The tune slightly changed. It felt a little more relaxed. I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at him. He smiled at me. I felt numb inside. I couldn’t feel my body trembling, but I knew it was.

  What was he thinking?

  “Therapy isn’t something to be ashamed about. It’s good that you’re going. Sometimes it’s needed.”

  I sighed. The numbness dissolved as my heart rushed beats. My blood felt as though it was shooting through my veins. I smiled the best I could.

  Kai and I stayed in the lounge together before he went to work. For me, the minutes felt unnatural. I kind of wished that he wouldn’t stay for as long as he did. But as soon as he left a part of me missed his warms colours and the gentleness he fuels. The way he finds home – comfort – wherever he is. I found myself thinking about the way his radiance flourishes when he speaks, smiles and moves. I’d never seen anything like it.