The Color of Silence

by Liane Shaw

  I finally get them open, but I can’t see her. The room seems overly bright to me, and I try to focus on my rainbow for a second so that the colors will help diffuse the light.

  “Hey—you’re awake! That’s great. I hope you didn’t find the details of my life too depressing. I just—never mind, I should go get someone!”

  I pull my eyes away and try to shift them to look toward her, but by the time I manage to do it, her drum beats have danced full speed out of my room and into the hall.

  I’m sorry she’s gone to get someone. I don’t think she’ll talk to me with someone else in the room.

  I want to know who she is. I don’t think her details are depressing.

  They are interesting. They are colorful and also a little bit sad.

  They’re Alexandra.

  I wish she didn’t run out like that. My eyelids are so heavy that I can’t stop them from covering my eyes again.

  I want to see her again.

  I want her to see me.

  The clouds come rushing back into me, covering my eyes and my mind until it’s so dark that all of my colors disappear.

  Chapter 41

  “Honey?” My dad’s voice climbs the stairs. I haven’t really talked to him at all since I came home yesterday. I’ve been basically hiding in my room. Again.

  Hiding from death.

  Again.

  Patrick tried to act all hopeful when I told him Joanie’s eyes were open, but by the time he came into the room, they were tightly shut again. Everything about her seemed tightly shut.

  Patrick told me all we can do is to try and keep her comfortable.

  Whatever that means.

  Then he just touched her on the cheek and looked over at me. His eyes told me more than any number of words could.

  It only takes three.

  Joanie is dying.

  Some people get through most of their life without having anyone they know die. They get to grow up without having to know what it’s like to completely and totally lose someone you care about.

  Why do I have to go through this again? First my mother, who died on me before I even got a chance to remember her properly, to remember loving her. My aunt once told me I was lucky to have lost her so young because I didn’t really have to go through the pain that comes along with losing someone.

  What about the pain of never really knowing you had someone in the first place?

  Death doesn’t care about love. It just comes in and takes whoever it wants. Death isn’t about losing someone. When you lose something, usually there’s a chance that you might find it again. Death is nothing but a thief, and when it steals someone away from you, that’s it.

  First my mom. Then Cali.

  And now Joanie. We are supposed to keep her comfortable until death sneaks into her room some day and takes her away.

  Joanie is dying.

  I don’t want to talk to my dad right now. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

  “Alex?” His voice is right outside my door now.

  “Yes.”

  “I was just wondering if you were home. No hospital today?” He opens the door without asking.

  “No. Not today. She’s too sick. Again.” My voice quivers a little, and I shake my head without looking at him.

  “You sound worried.” He says it hesitantly, not sure if this is a conversation we’re allowed to have.

  “No,” I start to lie to him. I start to say “no, why would

  I be worried?” but the rest of the sentence won’t come out of my mouth. I shrug my shoulders and try again.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s very ill?” I nod my head without answering.

  “That’s too bad.” He comes a few steps into my room.

  “Yeah, she’s got enough to deal with without this.”

  “I meant too bad for you. I was getting the idea that you like going there. That you like her.” I look at him, a little surprised.

  I don’t really talk to him much about Joanie or the hospital.

  I didn’t even tell him I went there yesterday.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.” My voice shakes again, and I try to clear my throat to get it under control.

  “Well, I hope she’s well enough to see you soon.”

  I shake my head, biting my lip. My eyes are stinging and

  I rub my hand across them and down my face to try and get myself under control.

  “Oh. I see. Alex…” My name ends on a sigh as he comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s OK. I’m fine. Everybody dies, right?” The bed moves as he sits down behind me. His hand is still on my shoulder. I shrug a little, but it doesn’t move.

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Why are you sorry? You don’t even know her!”

  “I’m sorry for you. I’m sorry you’re going to lose another friend.”

  “Lose another friend? I’m not losing her. I can’t go on a treasure hunt and find her again. She’s dying. And I didn’t lose Cali. I killed her.”

  “Alex. You didn’t…”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Dad, but you just don’t know! I should have stopped her, taken the keys away when I had the chance—or driven the car myself, or stayed with her in the first place so she didn’t take the stupid keys.” My throat is starting to close up, and my eyes are beginning to burn. I shouldn’t have said anything. I do know what he’s going to say.

  “Maybe.”

  “What?” That’s not what I thought he was going to say.

  “Do you know that you wouldn’t have had the same problems on that dark road?”

  A flash of colorless sound crashes into my head. Gravel flying. Cali screaming. Me silent.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Would I have known what to do if I was driving? Would it have mattered?

  “Even if I had the same problems, at least Cali wouldn’t be the one who’s dead.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I’m not sure of anything.”

  “Maybe you should have done things differently. And maybe that would have made everything turn out differently. But you’ll never know. You didn’t take Matt’s keys. And you tried to convince Cali not to drive—”

  “Don’t blame Cali! She didn’t take his keys either!”

  “It’s not about blaming anyone. Alex, honey, it’s over. Cali is gone. And you’re here. And I know you wish you could go back and make it all OK. Cali’s parents feel the same way. Her mother told me that she blames herself for letting Cali go to the party. She believes she should never have let her go to a house in a strange neighborhood with people she didn’t know. She wishes she could go back in time and tell Cali she couldn’t go.”

  I look at him, totally confused. Cali’s mother blames herself? Not me?

  “I should talk to her. She should know it wasn’t her fault. It was mine!”

  “I know you believe that. When someone dies like that, it’s hard not to look for someone to blame, even if it’s yourself.” He pauses for a second and rubs his eyes. “You know, I felt that way when your mother died.”

  “Mom died because she was sick. Cancer—right? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know that—now, most of the time anyway. But I was full of guilt for a long time. She had been so tired for so long, and

  I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I just thought she was worn out from trying to work and be a full-time mom at the same time.”

  “I still don’t see how her dying was your fault.”

  “I could see it. I couldn’t stop thinking that I would have noticed her illness sooner if I had been paying more attention.

  I should have made her go to the doctor so we could
have caught the cancer in time for treatment to work. I just knew it was my fault…” He stops talking and rubs his hand over his eyes. He looks so sad that I feel like I’m going to cry. He looks at me and shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. I reach out and touch his hand, just a little. He gives me kind of a shaky smile and strokes my cheek. Just a little.

  “I used to think about it all the time—imagining that I did things differently, imagining what our lives would be like if she was still alive today. I dreamt about it at night, thought about it all day. Until I realized that I was hurting your mother’s memory.”

  “Hurting her memory? I don’t understand.”

  “Before she died, she told me that she didn’t want me to dwell on the sad things or to blame myself. She wanted me to think about all of the wonderful things we shared. Like you. She loved you so very much. She wanted me to get on with life and to remember her with a smile so that I could be a good father for you. And maybe give you a little bit of her along the way. I’m not always sure I managed to do that, though.” His eyes go dark for a second, as if he’s looking inside so I won’t see what he means. But I see it. I know he’s hurting because of me now, instead of my mother.

  “You did great, Dad. I’m the one who messed up.” He sighs quietly and puts both his hands on my shoulders.

  “I know you believe that. And I agree that you could have done some things differently. And Cali’s parents could have done things differently. And Cali could have done things differently. And where your mother’s concerned, I could have done things differently. And that maybe that would have made everything OK. But none of us can change any of it now. We all just have to go on and do our best to live our lives.”

  “How? How can I just go on and live my stupid life when Cali can’t?”

  “Because you have no choice. And because she would have wanted you to.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t. But you tell me. Would Cali want you to hide in your room? She used to do everything she could to get you out of here and into the real world to have some fun.”

  “I love you, Lexi. You know that? Come on. It’ll be fun. I’m the only thing keeping you from hiding in your room, and you know it.”

  The words pop into my head, loud and full of life, scraping across my mind with painful memories. I don’t want to remember. It hurts too much.

  “I never even got a chance to say good-bye. She was just gone.” I don’t even know why I said that. What difference would that make?

  “There are all different ways to say good-bye. Cali knew you loved her, Alex.”

  He gets up and walks over to the door, looking back at me for a second. I’m just staring at him, trying to take in everything that’s been said.

  “I love you, Alex. Your mom does too. And so does Cali. Always and forever. Just remember that, OK?”

  He smiles, just a little, and leaves quickly so he can hold onto the last word.

  “Love you.” I whisper it into the air in front of me.

  No one hears it but me.

  I’m not even sure who I’m saying it to.

  Chapter 42

  There’s music filling the room, but in a softer way than it usually does. Alexandra must be back. Or maybe she’s still here. I can’t tell. The days are kind of blurring together recently, and I don’t know if it’s today or tomorrow anymore.

  Or maybe it’s still yesterday.

  I wonder why she’s keeping the volume down so low.

  I like it loud and full, so that I feel completely surrounded by it.

  Sometimes when I’m listening to music, I feel like I’m somewhere else. Somewhere special and beautiful, so far away that no one even knows it exists. Somewhere I can’t take Alexandra or Patrick, even though I would like to have them with me always. Somehow I don’t think they would be able to follow me.

  I would really like to listen to Alexandra tell me more things about herself and about her life, but music is almost as good.

  Being wrapped up in a blanket woven from beautiful notes is one of the most warm and comfortable feelings I know.

  So comfortable that I start to drift so far away that I almost can’t hear the music anymore.

  “She looks so peaceful.” Patrick’s voice is quiet, but the sound of it brings me back a little. I didn’t even know he was here.

  “I guess,” Alexandra’s voice is just a whisper, but I still hear it.

  I knew she was here.

  Two words is usually Alexandra’s limit when she talks to Patrick, so I’m surprised to hear her keep going. Her voice is so soft that I can barely hear her. “Everyone keeps on saying that this is for the best. That she’s fought long enough. And it’s just not true!” Alexandra’s voice sounds odd. Heavy and wet.

  “I’m sorry. I know you lost another friend here last year.” Patrick’s voice is gentle. I strain my ears to hear Alexandra’s answer.

  Patrick said “another friend.” Does that mean he thinks that Alexandra and I are friends?

  “She was so excited about that stupid machine. I don’t know if I feel bad because I’m going to miss her or because she’s going to miss life. You know?” Alexandra ignores Patrick’s comment.

  Why did she call the Wizard stupid?

  I think the Wizard is wonderful.

  “I know what you mean and I don’t have the answer, either. I’m glad she had a chance to spend time with you, though. I’m glad you could help her with her words.”

  “We didn’t get very far. She wasn’t finished talking at all. She was pushing me to go faster, and I didn’t know how, and now it’s too late!” Her voice hardens on the last word. Definitely angry now.

  At who? Or what?

  I’m glad she helped me with my outside words. She should be too. We didn’t find very many, but that’s OK. I still got a chance to make her laugh. To show her my rainbow. To say hi to Patrick.

  It was wonderful.

  It was everything.

  “I know you feel angry about all of this, but take it from me, feeling angry doesn’t help. In my work, I’ve had to say good-bye to a lot of people. You have to try to think about the good things. Like how nice it was for Joanie to have a friend her own age in this place.”

  He said it again. That we’re friends.

  “I’m not sure how nice it was for her. I’m not very interest-ing. It was nice for me, though.”

  I think that Alexandra just said that we’re friends. It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t clear, but I still got the message.

  The best message of all.

  Alexandra sniffs a little. Now she definitely sounds sad.

  She’s sad because she thinks she’s losing me.

  Losing another friend.

  I think she’s afraid she’s going to miss me.

  I’m glad she likes me enough to think she’ll miss me,

  but I don’t want her to be sad.

  I’m not sad or afraid.

  I know where I’m going.

  I’m going to walk around inside my rainbow every minute of every hour of every day now. I won’t have my stones anymore but my colors will still be there, made up of all of the people who filled my life—Alexandra, Patrick, Kathleen, Brenda, Debbie, Ms. Blaine, and even Mike.

  Definitely Mike!

  And lots of other people I haven’t remembered yet.

  Maybe even my mother will show up one day.

  Wouldn’t that be an adventure?

  This whole life has been an adventure.

  But I think it’s time for a new one to start.

  I’m glad I’m not alone in this moment.

  I want to try to say good-bye.

  I don’t want any tears though.

  “I love you, kid.” Patrick leans over and kisses
me on

  the cheek.

  I didn’t even have to ask.

  Alexandra kisses my other cheek, her tears falling on my face like soft rain from a memory.

  She doesn’t say good-bye out loud.

  But I know.

  My eyes open and look at her for just a second before my rainbow reaches out for me and pulls me into its colors for the last time.

  Chapter 43

  Pink and white balloons are floating in the breeze, tied to the front door of the church like people do at kids’ birthday parties so that guests will know which house to go to.

  Except this isn’t a birthday party.

  It’s a funeral.

  I don’t know if I can do this.

  I didn’t go to Cali’s funeral. My dad went alone while

  I stayed home and tried not to imagine it happening. I tried not to imagine the heartbroken faces and endless tears—the anger, the pain, the incredible sadness.

  I sat in my room and tried not to see my best friend in a box that she would have hated because she thought coffins were environmentally unfriendly and gross. Cali always said she didn’t want a funeral, because funerals were just a way to make everyone feel lousy and cry a lot. She told me she wouldn’t want anyone to see her dead because it wouldn’t be her anymore. That she would be somewhere else.

  She never told me where.

  I guess she didn’t tell her parents how she felt about funerals. Why would she have? She was only sixteen.

  She’s in a coffin, in the ground, in the graveyard. If she knows about it, she’s really pissed off by now.

  I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to hear some guy talk about Joanie like he knows her. I don’t think anyone really knew her. How could they? Her whole world was inside her head.

  I’m surprised to see so many people here. I didn’t think Joanie knew that many people. It’s nothing like Cali’s funeral, though. My dad told me that there were hundreds of people there. So many that the church filled up, and they had to broadcast the service through loudspeakers on the lawn, like an outdoor music festival.