Small Blue Thing

by S. C. Ransom

  When he reappeared I was sitting in the garden with Mum in the shade of the old lime tree with a cup of coffee. I felt the tingle and braced myself for fending off whatever he was about to do, but he was obviously in a mellow mood. He stroked my arm. “Do you mind me joining you when you are talking to your mother?” he asked, apologetically.

  I shook my head fractionally.

  “So it’s OK to stay?”

  I gave the briefest of nods.

  “Anyway, I’m not going to misbehave that badly in front of your mother. You might introduce me one day, and I wouldn’t want her to have a bad impression of me.”

  That floored me. I had never thought about the future like that, or about him wanting to meet the other people in my life who were important to me.

  I tried to imagine a scenario where I got Dad to put on a bracelet and led him to a mirror to introduce my boyfriend. I couldn’t see it going well.

  I was disturbed from my thoughts by a more substantial touch on my arm.

  “Alex, are you alright, darling?” Mum’s voice was deliberately controlled.

  “Oh, sorry, Mum. Wandered off in a bit of a daydream there for a minute. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Her relief was obvious.

  “When you didn’t respond I was worried that I had lost you again…” She looked away, trying to hide the fear in her face.

  I squeezed her hand.

  “Relax. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” I smiled at her.

  “But until we know what caused it, we can’t be sure of that.”

  I was torn. She was going to torture herself with worry over something I knew wasn’t possible any more. But if I explained why I wasn’t worried, I was going to have to tell her everything, and I didn’t know how to begin.

  “It just feels better somehow. I’m not sure how I can convince you, but I know that it won’t happen again.”

  She looked at me shrewdly. “What has been going on, Alex? You seemed perfectly happy up until the time you went out with Rob, and even after that you were incredibly upbeat by the next evening. But just a few days later you were behaving like a potential suicide. Your mood swings were staggering, even for a teenager. Dad and I were about to talk to you when you had your accident.”

  I looked at the floor, horrified that my emotions had been so transparent. “So when I heard about what had happened,” she continued, “I couldn’t help but wonder. You had been so down, so miserable, that I thought maybe you had had … enough.” The tears were glistening in her eyes. “But I couldn’t really believe that you would ever want to take your own life. I know that you know the effect that would have on the rest of us, and that nothing is ever that bad.”

  I took her hand again and waited until she looked at me.

  “Mum, I would never do that. You’re right – I couldn’t do it to all of you, or to my friends.”

  “Thank you. I thought as much, but under the circumstances it did cross my mind.” She paused, then added in a different tone, “Would you tell me what it was that was making you so miserable? What exactly did Rob do?”

  I still couldn’t decide what to tell her. “Rob is nothing, Mum, he’s really not important.”

  “So what was it that upset you so much?”

  “I was a bit upset, I know, but that had nothing to do with my being ill. And I’m over it now anyway.” I tried to sound as sincere as possible but I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

  “Was it a boy? A different boy?”

  She clearly wasn’t about to give up.

  “OK, Mum, I give in. Yes it was about another boy; someone I really liked.”

  She started to ask another question, so I put up my hand.

  “Please, Mum, leave it. I’ve already told you more than I wanted to. It’s not a problem now.” I raised my head and looked directly at her, daring her to ask more.

  “Fine, fine. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be sure that you were, well, that you had resolved things.”

  I could feel the gentle stroking on my arm.

  “I’m perfectly content, Mum, honestly. There was a misunderstanding but now that has been sorted out.”

  She took my hand, disturbing the rhythm of the stroking for a minute.

  “So no clues for me about your mystery man?”

  “No. Stop being so nosy! Anyway, it’s all over now.”

  The stroking suddenly stopped and I could feel his lips brush my neck.

  “It better not be over or I’ll kiss you in front of your mother,” laughed the voice in my head.

  “I’m glad you got it sorted out, then, whoever it was. It’s terrible seeing your child so miserable and not being able to help. It’s so much more complicated these days. I always used to be able to cheer you up with a hug or a piece of chocolate.”

  “I’m sorry, Mum. I can’t help getting older.”

  She squeezed my hand again. “No, I’m sorry: I need to learn to let go of both of you. But I’ll never stop worrying though. That’s just part of a mother’s job description.”

  “I know,” I laughed. “We do try not to torment you too badly.”

  “In that case you both fail abysmally.” She smiled as she said it, but I could hear the depth of feeling behind the words.

  “So what were the other guaranteed ways of cheering me up when I was little?” I asked, trying to lighten the conversation.

  “Ooh, there was quite a selection, depending on your age. You were never quite as easy to pacify as Josh, but I found a number of ways. When you were very little it was…”

  She started reminiscing over a brand of toys from a TV programme that had captivated me as a toddler. As I listened, I became aware of the fireflies again. There was one dancing right above Mum’s head. Bright yellow, it darted about just a few inches above her hair. I couldn’t see the actual insect, just the yellow light, but then we were sitting in the shade.

  I reached over to brush it away, and Mum broke off from her story.

  “What is it?” she asked, looking around.

  It was gone.

  “Just another of those strange fireflies bouncing around. They do seem to like you at the moment.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “Maybe I should get the spray. I could do without being an insect’s dinner. Be back in a sec.” She wandered off into the house, where she kept a huge stash of different repellents as she hated getting bitten.

  Callum was there the instant she had gone.

  “See, I told you I could behave.”

  “I should think so, too. Do you mind that I sort of mentioned you?”

  “Of course not. I just wish we didn’t have to be so secretive.”

  “I know, but at the moment there’s just no other way. And I’m sorry for saying it was all over.” I was teasing him now, and he knew it.

  “Hmm. I’ll have to work out a way to get back at you later.” His fingers danced down my spine.

  “Shh.” I laughed. “I can see Mum coming back out of the house.

  “Yes, Ma’am, whatever you say. I might stay put though – I enjoy listening to all the ridiculous things you did as a child.”

  “You are so lucky that I can’t throw something at you. Now be quiet!”

  I started to hum to myself as Mum got in earshot, so I was covered in case she had seen me talking.

  We spent a happy half-hour sitting in the garden, talking about the past and laughing about some of the mad things Josh and I had done as children. Despite the insect repellent the firefly kept returning. It was quite mesmerising, and Mum kept on breaking off from her tales to find out what I was staring at.

  After a while Dad joined us, bringing some cold drinks, and we sat laughing as the shadows lengthened. As Mum and Dad went over some of the gory details of stupid things I had done, I could hear Callum laughing and commenting. It was hard to remember not to answer him out loud.

  The fireflies were out in force, and Dad acquired some too, bouncing around above his
head. My parents were both obviously overjoyed at having me home, and their mobiles were ringing constantly as their friends got the news that I had been discharged. It sounded as if some of them were trying to get a party together to go out for a curry, but I really didn’t want to go with them. I wanted to wrap up somewhere quiet with Callum and be able to talk properly to him, not just be conscious of him at my side.

  I longed to hear tales of his childhood, to know some intimate little details of his earlier life, when he was real and substantial. As I listened to my parents, it made me sad that I could never have that sort of conversation with him. It must make him sad too, I realised.

  “Hey,” said the voice in my head, “why the gloomy face? Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head almost imperceptibly.

  “It’s so much harder with you, you know: I have to guess if you are happy.”

  I raised my eyebrows just a fraction in a question.

  “Well, it’s dead easy with your parents, for example, their auras are really bright right now, so I know they are delighted. You look really quite down.”

  As he said it, I looked up at Mum and Dad sitting together, smiling over some shared memory. The fireflies were still bouncing over their heads.

  The yellow fireflies!

  I could feel the piece of the jigsaw click firmly into place, and sat up with a jerk.

  Mum and Dad looked over at me in the same moment, as if they had been pulled by strings. The fireflies popped out in an instant.

  “I’ve just remembered that I haven’t been able to speak to Grace yet. Is it OK if I go inside for a while and call her?” I said quickly.

  They looked at each other.

  “Not at all, darling,” said Mum, visibly relaxing. “Take as long as you like. I’ll sort out dinner later. Any special requests?”

  I really didn’t want to debate dinner so a quick decision was needed. I picked Mum’s favourite. “Could we have a takeaway curry?”

  “Of course.” She nodded contentedly. “I’ll order the usual.”

  “Great,” I agreed over my shoulder as I finally got away.

  I could feel Callum keeping pace with me as I strode into the house. His voice kept coming and going.

  “Hey, Alex, what’s all this about? Are you OK?”

  “You and I need to talk. Right now!” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice.

  “OK, OK, hold on, let’s get to your room.”

  I took the stairs at a trot and quickly set up everything I needed. The room was beginning to darken so the table light threw long shadows across us both. Callum’s face appeared next to mine, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

  I wasn’t sure how to start, but I was pretty sure of my suspicions.

  “When you see an aura,” I started, ignoring his puzzled look, “what exactly do you see?”

  “Well, it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Give me a second and I’ll tell you!” His impatience was good humoured and I could tell he had no idea what I was getting at.

  “It all depends on the emotion. When people are sad I see a deep purple mist around them. If they are angry it is red and more contained. Happy people have concentrated yellow specks of light. That’s what makes it so easy for me to collect them. If it were a more diffuse sort of mist it would be really difficult.”

  I was almost bouncing with excitement.

  “What is it? I don’t understand.” He was looking really bemused.

  “I can see them! I can see Mum and Dad’s auras! I’ve been thinking it was fireflies, but it’s not, is it?”

  The expression on his face changed from one of shock to one of wonder, then slowly to one of absolute horror.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him, puzzled. “I thought you would be pleased. Could it be that you somehow transferred some part of you with my memories when you gave them back to me?” I could hardly contain myself with excitement, so why was he looking so aghast? I tried again.

  “Callum! Do you think I could be right?”

  He stayed quite silent. I felt like shaking him to get a response, but of course I couldn’t do that. Instead I did the next best thing and took the amulet off for a second. His face shimmered and disappeared, then was back the instant I slid it back into place.

  His eyes immediately refocused. “Don’t do that,” he muttered under his breath. Then he nodded slowly. “I think you are right. This is awful.”

  “But why? It sounds like fun to me.” He was beginning to scare me. “Why do you think it is a problem?”

  “Being like us, being the way we are … it’s not a good thing, Alex. I thought you understood that.” His face was ashen. “When did this start?”

  “I’m not really sure. This morning, I think, when I came home. It’s been getting stronger though.”

  “So it wasn’t immediately after you recovered then?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I was starting to get cross now. What was up with him? “Talk to me, Callum, explain what you are worried about.”

  He put his head in his free hand for a moment, then looked up at me with anguished eyes. I couldn’t believe I had found something else to make our lives more difficult again. Finally he spoke.

  “What if it’s the amulet changing? It could be that it’s starting to exert its influence over you, even though you are over there. It’s over there with you after all, so why shouldn’t it have its usual effect?” His voice was flat, and he looked at his own amulet in disgust.

  “So explain why that is a problem.”

  “Do you want to be miserable, do you want to have to chase those yellow lights, steal those memories, just to keep sane?”

  I didn’t want to hear this. “But I don’t feel depressed any more! I feel happy!”

  “You don’t know!” he almost shouted, making me jump. “I won’t be responsible for dragging you into this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have to take the amulet off, now, and throw it far away before it does any more damage.”

  “What are you saying? Then I wouldn’t be able to see you at all, and what’s the point of that?”

  “I know, but it’s too dangerous: we don’t know what’s going to happen, how it’s going to change you.”

  I felt a small shiver of fear run down my spine, but I wasn’t going to give up. “But only a few days ago you were furious with me for taking it off in my driving lesson. We know that it is dangerous, and Catherine could only do what she did because I had it but wasn’t wearing it. Now you are insisting I take it off. It doesn’t make sense.”

  I could see him about to object again, so I stopped him. “Look, let’s both calm down and try to work it out. OK?”

  I watched him struggle to control himself, but he bit his tongue and waited a few moments.

  “OK,” he agreed, “but I just can’t bear it if you get hurt again.”

  “I know, I know.” I reached up for his face and tried to smooth away the frown which was etched into his brow. “And I can’t bear it if I have to lose you again, so let’s work it out … yes?” I looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

  Finally, he nodded in agreement.

  I pulled a piece of paper across my cluttered desk and found a pen. The first one I picked up didn’t work, so I had to scratch around for another one. It was a luminous green colour with a feather attached, left over from some long-distant party bag. But it worked, so it would have to do.

  “Right.” I put on my most efficient manner. “What exactly do we know? What are the facts?”

  He looked as if he was humouring me but he did start. “First fact: you lost all your memories. Catherine and I both caught them. I stored them in my amulet and then transferred them back to you.”

  “Right, and they are all fine – a little disconnected maybe, but all there. Well, except for one notable deletion and addition.” I smiled at him, but his answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  �
��Fact two: you can now see yellow lights above people’s heads.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, scribbling it down, “and it’s been happening all day.”

  “What might have triggered it? Anything?”

  “Well, coming out of hospital, I guess. I didn’t see any in there.”

  “Maybe it was being in your home. Perhaps that’s the key.”

  I thought about it for a second. “I suppose it could be,” I agreed doubtfully, writing it on the list.

  He was on a roll. “Do you only see the lights over people you know?” he demanded.

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve not really had the opportunity to test it.”

  “Right, let’s try it out. Look out of the window.”

  We went to the window to see who was passing on the road outside. I peered out into the early evening, waiting.

  Soon a woman walked past with a nervous-looking Irish terrier. I watched her carefully. There was nothing unusual to see, and then the dog stopped and looked up at her, licking her hand. She bent down to stroke the top of his head and a little yellow light popped into existence. I couldn’t help gasping.

  “What do you see?” Callum demanded.

  “There was nothing at first, but then I saw a sudden yellow light above her head as she bent down. What did you see?”

  “Pretty much the same,” he admitted grudgingly, “although I got a bit of purple mist first before the dog cheered her up.”

  We sat and watched the road for a while, and I tried to spot those thinking of good memories. They were remarkably few and far between.

  “Is this usual?” I asked after the fifth person walked by without any sign of a firefly light.

  “Oh yes, in fact I’d say that round here the people are more cheerful than other places, especially London.” He paused. “That’s why it’s so hard for us to track down enough happiness to keep going. It’s a constant struggle to find and capture them.”

  I still didn’t understand why he was so bothered by the whole thing. I moved back to the table so I could see him again in the mirror.