Complementary Colors

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Complementary Colors Page 22

by Adrienne Wilder


  He wouldn’t have hurt me; he would’ve killed me.

  “If I talk to the police, I’ll have to tell them how I got away from the man.”

  “Why is that a problem?”

  “Because they’ll tell Julia.”

  Roy’s eyebrows came together over his nose. “So what if they do?”

  “If they contact her…” The scent of disinfectant and human sorrow was just one of the many facets in my nightmares. “It would be bad.”

  Roy scraped his hand through his hair. “Then tell them not to contact her.”

  “They won’t have a choice.”

  “You make it sound like she owns you.”

  I pulled at the hair on the back of my head. The hairs were still too short so I settled for digging my fingers into the crook of my arm. “Julia controls everything in my life. Even me. If she knew I was here right now, she’d…make me leave.”

  “Julia can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “Yes, she can.”

  “How?”

  I had to force out the words. “She’s my legal guardian.”

  Somewhere in the apartment building, a door slammed. Footsteps stampeded down the hall.

  “You’re a grown man. How can she be your guardian?”

  I sat on a stool before my knees could fold. I didn’t even have the strength to lift my chin. I counted the whirls in the hardwood floor. “When my mother died, Julia’s father got custody of me. When he died, Julia was the oldest so she took over.”

  “That would have ended when you were eighteen.”

  “Under normal circumstances.” A pain pecked me in the side of the head.

  “And your circumstances weren’t normal?”

  “No. When I was thirteen, I hurt someone. A boy in my school. They sent me to a hospital.”

  “How bad were you hurt?”

  “It wasn’t that kind of hospital.”

  “What other kind is there?” There was a moment of confusion in Roy’s expression. “A mental hospital?"

  “Yeah. After my father died, the nightmares wouldn’t stay in my head anymore.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  My laugh got hung in my throat. “How do you tell someone you’re crazy?”

  “You’re not—”

  “Yes. I am. I told you I was a disease. I’m sick, Roy. I’ll always be sick.” Roy stepped back, and my heart sank.

  He picked up his coat off the sofa. “I need to take a walk.” He sat on the end of the bed long enough to stomp on his boots. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  When he left, all the color leached from the world.

  ********

  My mouth watered for vodka; my body ached for the pills. It wasn’t the first time I’d stared into the darkness of the rabbithole, but it was the first time I didn’t run from it.

  I was so close. Just one step.

  “…let me love you…”

  The warmth of Roy’s touch ghosted my flesh.

  “…Please, Paris…”

  The memory of his mouth on mine still burned.

  “…I’ll teach you…”

  His scent stained my skin.

  Somewhere far away, a door opened and closed. There was a shuffle of fabric followed by two heavy thumps.

  Roy’s presence invaded the void of space at my side. He sat beside me on the kitchen floor. The cabinet door rattled.

  On the back of a sigh, he said, “You should have told me.” The disappointment in his voice cut deeper than any scream. Roy held my hand between his. He traced each finger, petted the back of my hand, and kissed my knuckles.

  “You don’t hate me?”

  He smiled a little. “Never.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “I was. At first. It hurt that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” He kissed my hand again. “But then I realized, why should you? You’ve never been able to trust anyone before.”

  He was the only person who ever gave me a reason to. He was the only person who’d ever given me a reason to want more than the alcohol, the pills, even the canvas. With Roy, I had nothing to run from.

  Nothing to be afraid of.

  “Roy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to go home.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

  “Never go home.” I gripped his hand.

  He tilted his head. “Okay. But the food isn’t all that great, and it can get pretty damn cold. I think I get three channels on the TV and that’s it.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “If you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  “What about your sisters?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “They’ll want to know where you are.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He bit his bottom lip. “Can I ask why?”

  “Because when I’m with you, the colors are so beautiful.”

  “Colors?”

  “Yeah.”

  He chuckled. “I guess a little color could do this place some good.”

  I leaned against him, and he put an arm around my shoulders.

  “I know you don’t want to go home.” I tensed, and he shushed me. “It’s not what you think.”

  And I could trust him.

  “That’s better.” He rubbed his chin against my temple. “I’d like for you to talk to a friend of mine.”

  “Who?”

  “A doctor.”

  “You mean a shrink.”

  “She’s not. But I know she has friends who are.”

  “I already have a doctor.”

  “The pills?”

  “Dr. Mason gives them to me.”

  “There weren’t any labels on those bottles.”

  I shrugged.

  “That’s illegal.”

  “I know what they do, based on shape and color.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less illegal.”

  I tried to sit up, and he held me. “If you don’t want me to stay, just say it.”

  “I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

  “You’re trying to fix me. That’s just as bad.”

  “What if she could help you? Maybe she could even get you away from Julia.”

  “No one can get me away from Julia.”

  “Have you ever tried?”

  I didn’t even want to think of what it would be like to be free of her. It only gave me false hope inside my even bigger lie. “It won’t do any good.”

  He pulled my chin up, and forced to meet his gaze. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m broken, Roy. And I’m broken in ways that cannot be fixed.”

  Chapter Ten

  My reflection followed Roy’s across the plateglass window. Dressed in thrift store hand-me-downs and a wool hat, I didn’t recognized myself. I hoped no one else would either.

  If I learned anything besides how clothes could drastically change a person’s appearance, it was that designer wear obviously wasn’t meant to be worn outside. In the real world, thick socks, boots, long-johns under jeans, and a sweat shirt was the only way to fight Mother Nature.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, I was warm. No more cashmere for me. I was sold on corduroy and fake lamb's wool.

  It had stopped snowing three days ago, but the temperature dropped and now everything was covered in ice. Sand and salt crunched under my boots, sprinkling lime green dots into the air.

  A cab passed by, and two businessmen got out of their Lexus. The Slaughter House drew in all kinds.

  The boy stood in the space between parked cars.

  “¿Cómo te llamas?” He tilted his head and smiled.

  “I know this is hard for you,” Roy said. “But I promise Dr. Howell just wants to talk.”

  A woman passing by blocked my view for a second. Once out of the way, the boy was gone.

  “Please trust me.” Roy ran his thumb down my cheek.<
br />
  I leaned into the contact. “I do.”

  “I know this is scary, but I think it could do some good.”

  “Nothing good comes from talking to a shrink.”

  “I told you, she’s just a doctor.”

  “But she works in the same hospital as a shrink.”

  Roy dropped his gaze for a moment. I wanted to feel bad for snapping at him, but I couldn’t get by the winding barbwire of my own fear to care. At least I hadn’t bolted when he suggested talking to Dr. Howell in the first place.

  I think I would have if there’d been somewhere else to go.

  I took him by the arm. “C’mon, before I lose my courage.”

  Roy opened the door, and the jingle of bells sent bloody red streaks into the air. Almost all the tables were full. I followed him to a booth in the back occupied by a woman. Even dressed in a sweater and jeans, Howell radiated her profession.

  She stood. “Long time no see, Roy.” They shook hands. “How have you been?”

  “Good.”

  “You must be Paris.” Dr. Howell greeted me with a manicured hand. I hoped she couldn’t feel me shaking. “Please sit.”

  I slid in beside Roy.

  “Are you two hungry? Yhey’re still serving breakfast.”

  “Paris?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t eat anything this morning.”

  I picked up the menu. Each item had a cartoon illustration. My stomach rolled. “I guess I’ll have whatever you do.”

  Louise came out of the kitchen. She saw us and walked over. “Hey, you two here for breakfast?” Her eyes said something else. Was I alright? Had I talked? And would I tell her what happened?

  “Louise, this is my friend Dr. Kim Howell.” Roy tipped his head at Howell.

  “You should have told me you knew Roy. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Roy has said a lot of good things about your food. I’ve been meaning to get here sooner.”

  “Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. So, you boys want something to drink?”

  “Coffee, please,” Roy said.

  “Black?”

  “Always.”

  Dr. Howell raised her cup. “And I’ll take a refill when you get a chance.”

  “Paris?”

  “Vodka and orange juice.”

  “I’m all out of vodka, but I can get you the orange juice. I’ll bring you boys some silverware when I get back.” Louise patted me on the shoulder, then left.

  “I’ve seen your work,” Dr. Howell said. “You’re very talented.”

  I picked at the edge of the table.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Could we just get to the real reason why we’re here?”

  “Okay, I can do that.” Howell ran her thumb over the handle of her cup. “Roy seems to think you might need some help.”

  I folded my arms across my stomach. Three men dressed in coveralls got up from the table beside us.

  Roy squeezed my thigh.

  “Like I told Roy, I can’t be helped.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am.”

  “Have you ever talked to a doctor?”

  I sat forward, then back.

  “Paris?” Dr. Howell folded her hands on the table.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you mind sharing their name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever you tell me is between us. I will not break your confidence.”

  “No.” I couldn’t risk it. If Howell did call Mason, he’d inform Julia. I’d been gone for over five days. She’d make sure I paid for it.

  “Are you seeing him now?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean by ‘sort of'?”

  I shrugged. “He gives Julia pills, she gives them to me.”

  “What are you taking?”

  I shrugged again.

  Dr. Howell flicked a look up at Roy. To me, she said, “Have you ever thought about seeing someone else?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “My sister is good at getting what she wants. And she doesn’t want me to see anyone else.”

  I pulled at the hairs on the back of my head. Tiny sharp stings bit my scalp. If I kept going, I’d be bald by the time I got out of there.

  “Paris, why doesn’t your sister want you to see anyone else?”

  “You tell anyone. I mean anyone, I will have you locked up for the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you—”

  Louise returned with our drinks. She laid out napkins and silverware. “You decide what you want?”

  Roy put down his menu. “Do you have any biscuits this morning?”

  “Of course, new batch is due out of the oven in five minutes.”

  “Then two biscuits with gravy please, ma’am.”

  “What about you, Paris?”

  I nodded.

  “Any eggs?” Louise said.

  “No, thanks.” Roy tucked the menu behind the napkin dispenser.

  “And you, Dr. Howell, what will you have?”

  “One egg, two egg whites…do you have any fruit?”

  “Strawberries for the pancakes. Blueberries for the waffles.”

  “Waffles, huh?”

  “Best you’ll ever eat.”

  “Bring me a waffle with blueberries but don’t tell my husband.”

  Louise laughed. “Secret is safe with me. I’ll be back in a bit with your food.”

  Again, we were alone.

  Dr. Howell drank some of her coffee and watched me over the rim. “I want to help you, Paris, but that’s going to be difficult for me to do with nothing to go on.”

  “You can trust her,” Roy said.

  “Please let me help you,” Dr. Howell said.

  “Why?” The door was just thirty feet away. I mapped a path between the tables. “What reason could you possibly have that makes you want to just ‘help’ me?”

  “Because Roy is a friend, and I owe him so much.”

  “Really, for what?” A look of pensiveness fractured her neutral expression.

  “About six years ago, my daughter got a job waiting tables at a bar. One night, she was assaulted. If it wasn’t for Roy, she would have suffered more than a few bruises.”

  “If you owe him so much, why did you let him sit in prison?”

  “Because I didn’t know who he was until a few years ago when Roy came into the hospital for some stitches. My daughter was waiting for me so we could go to lunch. She recognized him.”

  Roy fiddled with his fork. I didn’t know whether to be angry at him for not asking for help or in awe because he’d been willing to sacrifice so much for a person he didn’t know.

  But I wasn’t brave like him. “I can’t tell you his name. I’m sorry.”

  “Because of your sister?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s your legal guardian.”

  I nodded.

  “How would you feel about talking to someone who might be able to change that?”

  “Who?”

  “A colleague of mine, Dr. Carmichael.”

  My fingertips turned cold and my palms sweaty. The muted sunlight coming through the windows burned my eyes.

  “He has experience with competency evaluations. He’s gone to court many times on an individual’s behalf.”

  A throbbing pain beat against my temple.

  “Paris?”

  I rubbed my eyes.

  “Do you think you might be interested in meeting him? He has an appointment open this afternoon. Roy can even go to the hospital with you.”

  “I told you what would happen if you ran your mouth.”

  My heart skipped.

  “Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

  “You don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

  The air thinned.

  “Or if you don’t feel like going t
oday, he has time tomorrow.”

  “Cause any more trouble and I’ll make sure you never get out.”

  I clamored out of the booth. My shoulder caught Louise’s on her way to our table, and she dropped the plates she carried. The jagged crash tossed up orange shards that chased me out the door.

  Cold air froze the sweat on my skin and slipped under my coat. People dotted the sidewalk. Cars rolled past on the street. There was no longer a left or right, just the deluge of gritty footsteps and wet rubber sucking slush.

  I walked, but I didn’t know where.

  “Paris.” Roy’s voice was muted by distance. “Paris, wait.”

  I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. Fear possessed me, pumping the buttery smell of disease and despair into my lungs.

  “Think you can keep your mouth shut?”

  My throat tightened.

  “Or do I need to leave you here?”

  Every swallow I took fought against the urge to vomit.

  “I will. I’ll leave you in that room to marinate in your own piss.”

  The buildings swelled, taking up the sidewalk. I slid on the tilting ground.

  “You lied, Paris.”

  People stretched skyward, thinning out and curving upward until I was surrounded.

  “And that’s what you’re going to tell them. You lied. You did this for attention.”

  I stumbled into the street, and a car horn wailed. A wall of black lunged for me. Roy pulled me out of the way. “Jesus Christ!”

  The man driving the truck flipped me off. “Learn to use the crosswalk, asshole!”

  Roy pinned me to his chest and cradled my head on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

  “Let me go.” I couldn’t lift my arms to make him.

  “Never.”

  “I’ll leave. I’ll go somewhere, and you’ll never have to look at me again.” I’d even go back to the apartment and face Julia.

  “I don’t want you to leave. You know that.”

  “Then why…” A tremor ran through my body. “Why are you trying to have me locked up?”

  “I’m not…I wouldn’t. I just wanted to…” He petted my hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “No more doctors.”

  “No. No more.” He tried to step back, and I clung to him. “Let me fix your coat.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your teeth are chattering.”

  “I don’t want to let go yet.” I didn’t ever want to let go, but my muscles began to ache from shivering. Roy reached for the front of my coat. “I can zip my own coat.”

 

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