Seven Shades of You

by Johnson, A. M.

  We were both a mess again, the shower we’d taken last night useless, and as we caught our breath, the scent of us filling our lungs, she whispered, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  Strands of her hair stuck to her red cheeks, pushing them behind her ears, I said, “I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

  Her smile spread slowly. “I hope so.”

  Indie’s phone chirped, warning us our time was coming to an end.

  “That’s probably Blue.” Indie’s smile faded as she turned to look at the clock on her desk. “He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  She made an attempt to untangle herself, but I held her in place. I kissed her neck, her lips, licked them open until she was kissing me back. Almost hard again, I groaned and pulled away. “Fuck.” I grunted, burying my nose in her hair as she pulled me into a hug.

  “I’ll text him, tell him I woke up late.”

  I lifted her at the waist, a tight shiver escaping as I broke away from her body. Laying her back on the mattress, I hovered over her. “He’ll show up anyway.”

  “He will.”

  Placing a kiss on her forehead, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Resting my elbow on my knees, I stared at her naked body. Her skin was flawless, not one tan line or blemish beyond the paint under her nails and the goosebumps prickling over her stomach. Fucking perfect.

  “Seven days,” I said out loud, and she sat up and stood.

  I told myself not to stare, but I indulged in one last look as she slipped on a tank top. I handed her the underwear stuffed under her pillow, and she blushed. After I watched her get dressed, I figured I should probably do the same, ignoring the hard-on that would torture me for the next week, I cleaned up and put on my boxer briefs and jeans.

  She picked up her phone and expelled a relieved breath as I pulled my t-shirt over my head. “He’s running late.”

  Indie started to braid her hair, but I stopped her, pulling her into an embrace, I said, “Leave it down.”

  “Okay.” Draping her arms around my waist, her blue eyes serious, she asked, “Are you worried about talking to your dad?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to waste my last few minutes with her talking about my family bullshit. “We’ll work everything out.” I grinned. “Brian will be very pleased.”

  Indie didn’t smile. “Don’t do that. Not with me…”

  “Do what?”

  “I want a real answer, Kai. You don’t have to fake it with me. You can always tell me the truth. About anything.”

  I stepped away and took her hand in mine. “I should’ve spoken to him sooner… it’ll be tense. We can’t fix everything in one week, but we’ll get through it.”

  “And if it doesn’t go well… promise you’ll call me if you need to talk, if you need anything.”

  “He told my mom he wanted a divorce over Thanksgiving break, then comes crawling back not even a month later after banging some other chick. It’s not going to go well. I’m angry, Indie. But I won’t do anything stupid this time.” I lowered my eyes to hers, held on to the clear crystal color. “I’ve got too much to lose.”

  Her phone chirped again, and I exhaled a weighted breath. I wanted to stay, put her bags in the trunk of Royal’s car, hold the door open as she got in, and lean down and kiss her before she left. I wanted one goddamn normal moment, where everything wasn’t tainted with a lie. I wanted five more minutes.

  “I better go.”

  She held onto my hand, her grip tight. “I love you, Kai.”

  Lifting her chin, I kissed her one last time, lingering longer than I should have, I whispered, “Love you, too.”

  I’d been staring at my father’s car, parked in the driveway, for the last ten minutes. The morning sun glinted off the red paint, and I found myself welcoming the glare. It made it easier to ignore the overgrown grass, the missing shingles. The patches of dandelions were out of control, crawling across the lawn and pouring over the edges of the sidewalk. Guilt warred with irritation as I finally stepped out of my car and onto the cracked concrete driveway. The house looked like shit, partly my fault, partly his. Last year I’d made sure I was home as much as possible to maintain the yard, made sure to come home whenever I had time between meets and work and classes. I used to pick up all the slack, and then some, left behind while my dad travelled for work. I’d learned as a child, in his absence, I had to be the man of the house, had to fill his shoes, keep my mother’s world as pristine as possible. It didn’t matter if I was thirteen or twenty-one, the holes my father left behind had to be repaired. As I ascended the stairs to the front door, navigating past the tall weeds, a sinking feeling filled my gut. I’d left her to fend for herself.

  The front room was dark, the curtains pulled shut—the smell of stale sweat hung in the air. “Mom?”

  She coughed, and I followed the sound to her bedroom. The door was open, and she smiled as I walked in. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  She’d lost a considerable amount of weight. Her cheeks hollower than they had been in January. Was her hair thinner? I looked around the room, her wheelchair was tucked away by the closet door. Her tray of medications sat on the dresser top, everything seemed to be in its usual place, except the television was muted, and her clothes for the day were still spread on the foot of her bed. And despite the sunlight spilling over her blanket, her skin, she looked cold. Tired and wrung out.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked and kissed the top of her head.

  Her cough was wet, her face pinched in pain as she pressed the button on the side rail to raise the head of the bed.

  “He’s in the shower.”

  “Have you been sick?”

  “I’ll live.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m glad you’re home. How was the drive?”

  I sat on the side of her bed and held my hand to her forehead. “Mom…” She sighed at the alarm in my voice. “You have a fever.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Mom…” I stood, checking over everything again. “Has the home health nurse been here?”

  “Kai.”

  I rummaged through the meds on her dresser looking for Tylenol.

  “Kai,” she almost shouted and I stopped.

  “It’s just a fever.”

  My head fell forward as I braced myself against the edge of the dresser. Shame hung from my shoulders, the burden of it too significant to bear. I’d put her through so much this winter. I should have come home, should have…

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

  I turned to face her, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “It’s never just a fever.”

  “Maybe not.” The smile on her face was thin, as thin as the skin on her sharp cheekbones. “But I feel okay. And you’re home, and that makes me happy.”

  I grabbed the bottle of Tylenol off the dresser and opened it, spilling two pills into my palm.

  “I missed you,” I said as I sat back down on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry… I should have been here, I could’ve—”

  “You were taking care of you… like I told you to do. Don’t feel guilty for letting yourself have a life. For finally doing something you want. I can’t wait to see the painting you’ve been telling me about. Did you bring pictures?”

  Her smile trembled, weak, but genuine, a smile I didn’t deserve.

  “I feel like him. I feel like I abandoned you.” I squeezed the pills in my fist as I grit my teeth.

  “You hardly abandoned me.” She laughed, the hoarse sound of it unfamiliar. “You call me, you check in, that’s all you should have done, baby. You’re a young man, and it was about time you started living like one.”

  “Take these,” I said, grabbing her water from the bedside table.

  She stared at me. “I don’t need another nurse, Kai. I need a son.”

  “Take these, please. You have a fever.”

  “I’ll get some applesauce.” My father’s voice startled me.

  He stood in the doorway, his dark hai
r wet, in a pair of jeans and long-sleeve shirt. A premonition. Every time I looked at my father, I got a glimpse of my future. A future I never wanted. A man I never wanted to be.

  “Applesauce?”

  His brown eyes met mine. “She has a hard time swallowing lately. If you came home once in a while, you’d know that.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I stood abruptly, already halfway across the room, ready for a fight, ready to shatter him, shatter the mirror that haunted me.

  “Kai,” my mother cried out, her voice cracking, and I caved.

  My dad’s stoic jaw relaxed, his eyes sad and apologetic as he took a step toward me. “Let’s not do this… she’s sick.”

  I took a step back. “When has that ever stopped you?”

  Everything was broken.

  Nothing felt the same.

  Anger had taken root and its hold on me was deeper than I’d thought possible.

  I felt thirsty for the first time in weeks. Last year, I would have stormed out of here, driven to the nearest bar, and drank until everything was blank and quiet and numb. Until I no longer cared about what or who was right.

  I love you, Kai. Indie’s voice whispered inside my head. My bones hurt. My head ached. I was exhausted. And all I wanted to do was get inside my car and drive back to campus. But she wasn’t there. And regardless of where I lay my head tonight, my anger, the shit I didn’t want to face, would all still be there when I woke up.

  “I need you to listen to me.” My dad glared at me, and for the first time I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Weariness wrinkled around the corners of his mouth. “If you pull the same shit you did this winter, I swear to fucking God, I’ll—”

  “Kyle…” My mom coughed, her face splitting with pain. “Stop…”

  “Mom?”

  Her shoulders shook as she gasped for a breath, the heavy, wet crackle of her lungs suddenly silenced.

  “Mom!”

  My dad pushed past me and scooped his hand under my mother’s neck. She sputtered as he cradled her head, tilting it back, her eyes went vacant. I was paralyzed, and when he looked at me, his face white and frightened, every ounce of anger I had in my heart was replaced with terror as he yelled, “Call nine-one-one.”

  Indigo

  Me: Half-way home.

  Me: In the middle of nowhere, listening to Royal and Camden argue about the merits of pop music.

  Me: Also… side note… Camden’s apparently terrified of bees.

  Me: Being forced to listen to these weird instrumentals from Camden’s cultures in music class…

  Me: Send. Help.

  Me: Just drove over the Utah state line.

  Me: We’ve been home for an hour and mom is crying… again.

  Me: Missing you.

  I dropped my phone onto my lap and watched as the sun smeared the horizon in burnt tones of purple and pink. The empty feeling inside my chest had spread to my stomach, and I’d started to regret not eating more at dinner. Mom and Dad were able to fend off the entire O’Connell clan for one night so that they could have us all to themselves. I was sad at first, missing my uncles and their families, but after I’d been unable to reach Kai all day, something dark had begun to spread its wings inside me. My dad had been the only one who noticed my mood at dinner, but I was able to smile through my lie. And it wasn’t even much of a lie, I was tired from the drive.

  It wasn’t like Kai to ignore my texts. At first, I thought maybe his phone was dead, or he was busy with his mom. But as the day progressed without any contact, my anxiety made it more difficult to discount every little thing my brain could conjure. Rockport wasn’t that far from campus, but he’d had little-to-no sleep, and what if… I couldn’t think about that scenario for too long. The vacant feeling it left behind was unbearable, tight, and hollow. He was fine. Probably busy.

  The previous night, everything we’d shared, what we’d done together, it all started to filter through. The voices I’d been able to successfully lock away all day, here, miles away from Kai, where the familiar scents of home could make me believe it had all been a dream, where my father’s macabre paintings stared down at me, here in my family’s studio, those voices had begun to take root again. They knew me best inside these walls, knew my fears, my heart, and poisoned me with tiny seeds of doubt.

  He got what he wanted.

  This is what he does.

  Look what you let him do.

  I’m in love with you, Indie.

  He loves me.

  Filthy.

  Loves me.

  Loves me.

  “He loves me.”

  I shook my head and stood in front of the blank canvas, leaving my unanswered texts on the floor. I was about to start working when my phone came to life. I couldn’t help the way my heart leapt from the bottom of my stomach, it had been hiding there all day, and it crawled back between my ribs, furious, as I leaned down and grabbed my phone.

  The number was unfamiliar.

  “H-hello,” I stuttered as I fumbled the phone in my hand.

  “Pink!”

  “Daphne?”

  “Back from the dead,” she said, her laugh rich and deep.

  “Oh my God, Daphne... You sound…”

  “Different. Sober. It’s crazy, right?”

  If I didn’t know her better, I would’ve missed the slight, insecure shiver in her tone.

  I leaned against the wall, my smile wide as I huffed out a laugh. “You sound so good. I miss you.”

  “Miss you, too, Pink.” Her speech was muffled as if her whispered words were hidden inside the palm of her hand, covering the phone, keeping her secret safe.

  “Are you still—”

  “In rehab? Yeah. But I’m at this residential facility in New Hampshire now. I’ll probably be here another six months.”

  The smile on my face faded. “Six months.”

  “It’s good, Pink. I need to be here.”

  Hearing her admit it showed more of her improvement than the warm quality of her voice had.

  “Listen, I’m calling because… well… I’m calling because I’m supposed to apologize to those I’ve hurt while using, and I wanted to call you so many times... but I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.”

  “Daphne… you didn’t… you never hurt me.”

  She exhaled, the exhaustion reached through the phone, and my eyes burned for her.

  “I was a shitty friend. Selfish. I lied to you, made you worry. I might not have done anything concrete, but when I was using… I pushed people, pushed everything good away. Did shit I should’ve never done. Scary shit… I’m sorry, Indie… for real… I never wanted you to know how weak I was…”

  The silence stretched and I heard her sniffle. “I wish I could hug you.”

  “I wish you could hug me, too.” Another sigh. “I’m good though, okay. I wanted you to know I’m good. My parents have gone through this, addiction is kind of a virus in my family, crazy contagious, but I’m working through it.”

  “Will you come back to St. Peter’s?”

  “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I need a place where I can have a fresh start, be my authentic self without fear of remembering who I used to be.”

  I understood her on some base level. I feared every day who I could become without proper medications, without the love of my family. “Fresh starts are always a good idea.”

  Her laugh was wet. “Shit, I’m monopolizing the conversation. My therapist told me I need to work on that… How are you? How’s your sexy swimmer brother, is he still with—”

  “With Camden, yeah.”

  “Man, I was hoping he was hooking up with Kai by now, at least that would make me feel a little better.”

  I laughed, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I figured Kai was in the closet.”

  My dad walked into the studio, and I held my finger to my mouth and he smiled, stepping quietly to his canvas.

  “How would Royal and Kai being togeth
er make you feel better?”

  My dad chuckled, and I held the phone away from my ear and shushed him.

  “…the night we hooked up.”

  We hooked up.

  My smile shattered.

  “Wait, who did you hook up with?”

  “Kai.”

  His name hung inside that distant static between here and there.

  “So stupid. Never. Ever. Have sex with the campus man-whore and expect him to care afterward. I knew better.” She giggled, the sound of it made me nauseous.

  “When?” I whispered, swallowing back the metal taste in my mouth.

  He got what he wanted.

  This is what he does.

  “I fucked up over winter break, I was so wasted, so was he. You know how these things go.” No, I didn’t. I didn’t know anything. “I kept my ego intact after he completely blew me off, hoping he was into your brother.” She groaned. “Ugh, all the mistakes I made when I was using… I should probably call him and apologize, too.”

  Tears spilled over my lashes and I wiped them away. I had no right to cry.

  Winter was before me. Before us.

  Blew me off.

  Didn’t call.

  Won’t call.

  Got what he wanted.

  The witch was alive and well, feeding on the sticky memories inside my head. The red thoughts, fresh and new, she devoured them all.

  “I should go,” I found myself saying before I could stop the words.

  “Oh… okay.”

  “Thank you for calling.” The robotic sound of my voice alerted my father, and his keen blue eyes held mine.

  “Hey, Pink?” she whispered.

  I stared at my dad, the tears falling heavy on my cheeks, he stepped toward me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you for being there for me… when I didn’t deserve you.”

  Her candid tone pulled me from my downward spiral.

  “I’m glad you’re getting help,” I managed to say and meant it. “Take care of yourself, Daphne.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  I probably should have said more. Told her to hang in there, get well soon, you’ve got this, but all I could muster was a simple. “Good-bye.” And ended the call.