The Colour of Broken

by Amelia Grace

  Gram closed her eyes and a tear escaped. She wiped it away and looked around the store. ‘And now, I hardly receive invitations, and when I am invited on the rare occasion, I don’t go to save from embarrassing them, and myself.’

  Gram took a slow, deep breath. ‘I hate Meniere’s disease, Yolande. I hate everything about it! I hate that people can’t see what I feel and suffer. I hate that it’s an invisible illness. Some of my friends even think I’m faking it! Little do they know I am faking being well ... it's exhausting!’ Gram brushed her hands over her face. Her beautiful face. ‘It’s so exhausting!’

  My heart went out to Gram. Not only was her ability to hear being taken away, but her social life was too, without her approval. At least my social life had died by my choice. I closed my eyes while I finished my cup of tea. I placed my teacup onto the saucer and placed my hand on Gram’s. ‘I wish I had a magic wand to cure you.’

  ‘Me too, Andi. Me too ... I pray every night for a cure ... God hears you know.’

  ‘I know, Gram.’ I wondered why God didn’t hear my prayer on that day with Mia. I wondered why God let bad things happen. ‘God didn’t hear my prayer for Mia ...’ I whispered.

  Gram stopped arranging a bouquet and looked at me. ‘He heard you, Landi.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he stop those evil men ... why couldn’t I hold Mia’s hand for longer ...’

  Gram placed her hand on the side of my face. ‘We don’t live in a perfect world. Humankind has free will to choose whether to love, or not to love. The day will come when sickness and pain and suffering is eradicated, and people will be held accountable for what they have done. True justice will be served.’

  ‘But, Gram ... how can you still belie—’

  ‘All will be revealed in God’s time, and then you will be filled with understanding ... be still and know ...’ Gram said with a gentle voice, where peace flowed with abundance.

  I watched Gram for a moment longer as she returned to her flower bouquet.

  ‘I’d better get back to the sales desk. It looks funny with people taking their flowers to Darcy to purchase over at the café, although, I think he is selling more tea or coffee with the flowers.’ I put my hand on Gram’s shoulder. ‘Maybe we should sell the flowers from there ... it could boost sales in the café, hence overall profit for the store.’

  Gram narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Let me think on that one, Andi, and I’ll let you know.’

  I smiled at Gram, then returned the teacups and pots to Darcy.

  ‘Everything okay with your gram?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. We were just solving the problems with the world,’ I said.

  ‘Good. There’s a lot of problems to solve.’

  ‘Way too many. Thanks for the tea.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ Darcy said.

  ‘Sorry about the people paying for their flowers here with you.’

  ‘No problem. I sold more beverages than normal,’ he said.

  ‘That’s because no one can resist your barista charm when they come closer!’

  ‘In that case ... will you come to the movies with me tonight?’

  ‘I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m busy every night for a little bit longer.’

  ‘With Xander?’

  ‘Yes. Is there a problem with that?’

  Darcy looked down and shrugged. He looked back at me. ‘I need to know that he will look after you.’

  I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘I can look after myself, remember ...’

  ‘Do you really need to see him every night?’

  ‘Yes. We’re entering a dance comp, remember?’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Darcy looked down and shook his head slightly.

  ‘I know. I can hardly believe it myself.’

  Darcy looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. ‘That you’re dancing again, or that you’re dancing with him?

  ‘Both,’ I said.

  ‘I heard he was a professional ballet dancer. Did you know that before you started dancing with him?’

  ‘No. If I knew I would have said no.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Look at him, then look at me ...’

  ‘He has looked at you. That’s why he chose you.’ Darcy raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘He didn’t want to dance with any professional dancers ... that’s why he chose me. I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. I’m pretty awful.’ I laughed at myself.

  ‘I bet you’re not,’ Darcy said, and narrowed his eyes at me.

  I held up one of my heavy safety boots so Darcy could see it.

  ‘But then again, they aren’t the most beautiful dancing shoes.’ He grinned at me and my heart grew arms to hug him.

  I smiled. ‘Work to do. Chat later.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, and gave me a warm smile.

  I returned to the sales desk and looked at my watch. There were only three hours until Xander would be here.

  *~*~*~*~*

  5.45pm.

  I sat on the steps of Flowers for Fleur and waited for Xander to appear. When I saw his car, my heart raced. Why was I nervous? Was it because of the new dance? Was it because of the music he had chosen?

  He pulled up at the kerb and I stood. He vacated the car and stood with the passenger door open for me before I could get there. I waved my hands about, and he tilted his head to the side and smiled. I narrowed my eyes at him and sat in the passenger seat. He really didn’t need to open and close doors for me.

  It was routine now to go to the pew, sit, change into dance shoes and then warm-up and stretch. But this time, when we were about to start practising our new dance, Xander’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered it. He held up a finger. He would only be a moment. He ran his hand through his hair as he talked.

  My breath hitched. I wanted to do that.

  He turned away from me and continued his conversation.

  When he was longer than a moment, I walked over to the piano and sat on the stool. I lifted the lid of the keys and tinkered on them ...

  ‘Landi, let’s play the duet you taught me!’

  I stopped playing the classical piece of music and looked up at Mia. She battered her eyelids at me with a goofy smile on her face.

  I took a deep breath. ‘Alright then ...’

  Mia sat next to me on the stool, our legs touching. She bounced up and down on the seat like a child waiting to open her birthday presents.

  ‘Ready?’ I said, and placed my fingers on the keys.

  ‘Set,’ Mia said with a squeal.

  ‘Go!’ I said and started to play the more complicated low notes, while Mia played the easy high notes.

  ‘Oliander,’ she said while she played the wrong notes, ‘my fingers have a mind of their own. They’re creating a magical piece of music that will mesmerise the boys and have them chasing after me.’

  ‘Mia Pizzeria, they will be chasing after you with knives to stop you from playing!’ I said.

  Mia laughed hard and fell off the chair ...

  I smiled at my memory and placed my fingers onto the keys and played Comptine d’un autre été - L’après-midi. I closed my eyes while I played, and after a little while, I could feel the heat from Xander’s body close to mine. I inhaled deeply and smelled his citrusy body scent with a hint of liquorice, vanilla, lavender, amber and sandalwood. I stopped at once.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, not wanting to waste his time.

  ‘No. I’m sorry you stopped. Please ... play it again.’ He sat on the piano stool next to me, our thighs touching. A delicious warmth grew on my leg where we touched.

  I cleared my throat. ‘Okay.’ I positioned my fingers on the keys and played the piece of music through to the end, with Alexander Parker sitting close, watching and listening. There was silence between us when I finished, and neither of us moved for a moment in time.

  ‘I’d like to dance to that. Tonight. When we finish learning our foxtrot ... please.’ His voice was gentle.

  ‘No,’ I said.

&n
bsp; ‘No?’ he asked with raised eyebrows.

  ‘No,’ I repeated.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I won’t be able to watch you dance ...’

  ‘I’ll video it, just for you,’ he said.

  My heart hammered against my chest. ‘Okay,’ I whispered.

  He held out his hand. I placed my fingers in his hand and stood. We walked to the centre of the hall and restarted our warm-up stretch routine.

  ‘Did you look at the dance notation for the foxtrot?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you listen to the music?’

  ‘Yes.’ I frowned at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Perfect?’ I couldn’t believe he had chosen that song. I hated everything about that song!

  He frowned at me. ‘Yes. Ballroom dancing is romantic. We need an emotionally charged song ... Perfect is ... well, perfect!’

  I turned away from him and continued to stretch. I closed my eyes. I could never be loved like in that song. Not after—I should have held her hand for longer, just for a couple more minutes ...

  ‘Did you visualise the dance notation to the music?’

  I turned back to him. ‘Yes.’ While I cried.

  Xander held his hand up to start our practice session. I placed my hand in his while he placed his other hand on my back. I put my left hand on his shoulder and held my breath. I looked at his Adam’s apple then up to his perfect chin, perfect lips, perfect nose, and then his perfect blue eyes that drank me in and caressed my soul.

  ‘Breathe, Yolande,’ he whispered.

  I blinked and obeyed his words. Then we took our first step of hundreds to the new song that I hated with all my heart.

  Halfway through our dance session I stepped back from Xander, and buckled over in laughter.

  ‘What?’ he said, frowning at me.

  ‘I’m so imperfect at dancing to Perfect!’

  Xander’s lips curled into a slight smile. Surely he could see the irony? I performed an elegant ballerina’s curtsy, known as ‘reverence’, just for him, and for a moment in time, I was transported back to when I was seventeen, when the world was uncomplicated, when Mia and I would make up stories about the danseur she had a crush on at the time, and I would add a dark twist to their story.

  I looked up at Xander after my curtsy. He put his right hand over his heart and gave me a simple bow, his eyes connected deeply to mine, then he held his hand out for me. His hypnotic elixir of swirling emotion raced through me, and my walls of self-protection almost came crashing down. I took a deeper breath and placed my hand in his and we started the foxtrot again. This time we danced like we were one. And our seventh dance session was evolving into a dream.

  On the final round of the foxtrot, Xander spun me around in a pirouette.

  ‘You should take up ballet again,’ he said.

  I shook my head. ‘My decision was made when I was eighteen.’

  ‘You can change your mind.’

  ‘I don’t miss the pain from ballet.’

  ‘Hmmm ... we’ll see.’ Xander walked over to his bag and pulled out a GoPro. He set it up in the corner of the hall and did a test recording, then went and checked the vision. ‘Yolande Lawrence-Harrison, please play the piano again,’ he said. ‘I need to dance to that music!’

  ‘Okay,’ I said as I walked to the piano. I sat, then turned around to him to see if he was ready to dance.

  ‘I want you to play it twice. The first time I will listen and feel the emotion of the music, the second time I will dance.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, turned on the seat and placed my fingers on the keys of the piano. As I played, I felt each note move through me, with the energy and emotion of the music. I poured my heart and soul into the music for Xander. Just for Xander.

  When I finished the piece, I rested for a moment, before I started again. While I played, I could hear his feet as he danced. I knew when they touched the floor and when they didn’t. The music flowed from me like it was part of my soul, like being on a different spiritual plain.

  After the last note, I removed my hands from the piano keys and lowered my head. I was emotionally exhausted. In a good way. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Not with Xander here.

  Arms wrapped around me from behind. Xander hugged me tightly. ‘Thanks. That was immensely satisfying.’ He released his arms from me and I turned to face him.

  I had no words. All I could do was nod at him. He held his hand out to me. I placed my hand in his and stood.

  ‘Do you want to see me dancing to your music?’

  ‘I would love that,’ I said, my words barely audible.

  ‘Come,’ he said.

  We sat on the pew and Xander held his GoPro between us. I watched his dancing: music expressed in body movement, connecting human existence to vibrations of sound, the language and art form of music and dance joined—compelling, beautiful, moving. My heart felt full of life, overflowing with the colour spectrum of love, transcending time and space.

  ‘Beautiful,’ I whispered when the vision finished. I caught tears on my fingers to stop them trickling down my face.

  ‘Thanks for playing for me,’ he said, and placed a finger under my chin and lifted my eyes to his. ‘I’m blown away by your hidden layers. When I first met you, I thought you were just a florist—a girl selling flowers in her work boots looking at life through rose-coloured glasses.’

  ‘And then, like a rose bud I unfurled, revealing many petals ...’ I said with a dramatic tone and expressive hands.

  ‘Of beauty,’ he added.

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ I said, my cheeks warming with embarrassment. ‘I was trying to be sarcastic!’

  ‘Hmmm ... sarcasm, the highest form of intelligence. It goes perfectly with who you are.’

  ‘Now who is being funny!’ I started to change my dance shoes to put on my work boots, but decided to leave my dance shoes on for the short drive home. ‘Oh ... do you still have my bag in your car from last night?’

  ‘No. It’s in my room at the university. I can bring it tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you mind if we get it tonight. I have some sketches in there that I need.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll pack up and we’ll go.’

  He opened the car door for me again and I shook my head at him. He simply raised his eyebrows at me. I think I just needed to accept his door opening as a Xander-ism.

  Xander drove, heading north out of town for thirty minutes before the university campus appeared on the horizon. It was large with historical architecture, making it seem more important.

  He pulled the car up in a circular driveway, then walked around the car and opened my door. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone in the car. You’ll have to come with me.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. You won’t be long, will you?’

  He looked around. ‘I can’t risk anything happening to my dance partner. Not this close to the competition date.’

  ‘Alexander Parker, you are being ridiculous! We’re on a university campus—’

  ‘It’s not immune to incidents. And you’re not immune to incidents!’

  I sighed. He was right. I got out of the car, only because I didn’t have my work boots on.

  ‘Girls aren’t allowed in our dormitory. So, don’t speak, and if I ask you to do something, do it without questioning. Got it?’

  I widened my eyes at him, then rolled them at him. ‘Yes.’ I had no other choice.

  Xander took my hand and I walked closely behind him so as not to be seen. We entered the centuries old door and along long hallways and stopped at the bottom of steps that lead up a multitude of floors.

  Xander turned to me. He held his fingers to his lips. ‘I need to piggy back you from here. If anyone hears two sets of footsteps going up the steps at this time of night, doors will open to see what’s going on,’ he whispered and held a finger to his lips again.

  I gave him a disbelieving shake of my head. I definitely did not want him to carry me up flights o
f stairs. He turned around and crouched down so I could latch on to him. I put my arms over his broad muscular shoulders and wrapped my legs around him, my breasts pressed against his back. He held on to my legs and started moving up the stairs, faster than I thought he would.

  I started to giggle at the ludicrousness of the entire situation. Xander shushed me.

  After the fourth flight of steps he stopped outside an oak door. I slid down his back until my feet touched the floor. He held his finger to his lips once again, then inserted a key into the door lock. The moment he pushed the door open, he ushered me into his room quickly, and closed the door behind us and turned on the soft white light.

  ‘Do you smuggle girls into your room frequently?’ I asked in a quiet voice, conscious of the need to be unheard.

  ‘No. You’re the first and only one,’ he replied.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn’t sure I believed him. I looked around his tidy room. There was a window in the centre of the wall on the right. To the left of the window was a single bed, while on the other side was a dark oak study table. A tall bookshelf was within close reaching distance to the desk. On the opposite wall to the window was an oaken wardrobe and a doorway that led to a bathroom, I assumed. My backpack was placed in the corner of the room.

  ‘Is your room serviced?’ I asked as Xander walked over and picked up my backpack.

  ‘What do you mean?’ He handed me my bag and our fingers touched, sending a warmth along my skin.

  My breath hitched. ‘It’s so tidy!’ I managed to say after I re-scrambled my senses.

  ‘No. That’s just me. Between dancing, studying and lectures, I don’t have time to mess it up.’

  I looked around at his bed, desk, book shelves, bathroom and wardrobe, once again. ‘I’m ready to leave,’ I said, needing to get away from him and the way he was starting to affect me. I wasn’t looking forward to being piggy backed down the stairs.

  He nodded to me and turned to the door. He opened it a fraction and peered through the gap. There were male voices and footsteps and chairs scraping the floorboards. He closed the door and leaned against it with his hands behind his back and looked at me.

  ‘It looks like the boys are settling in for a game of cards.’ His voice was barely audible.

  Great. I looked towards the window as an escape route. But I didn’t have my work boots on. We were four storeys up and I was now stuck in a dorm room, with the beautiful Xander.