Colorblind (6 page)

I lowered my eyes to the ground, not sure what to say. “She’s not a replacement?” I asked at last.

“Trust me. There is no replacing your mother,” he told me, getting to his feet. “Okay?”

I looked up at him as he stretched his arms out for a hug, and then obliged him with a meek, “Okay.”

As he hugged me, he explained, “I’m going to invite her over for dinner one night next weekend, okay? I think you’ll like her, but if anything goes wrong, we’ll talk it out, alright?”

I pulled away from him abruptly, eyebrows furrowed. Dinner with just me, Dad, and Deborah sounded like a train wreck waiting to happen. “Can I invite my friend? Chloe?” I asked him.

He didn’t take too long to think about it before he nodded. “That sounds fair. Sure.”

* * *

I consumed myself with Chloe for the next week. I made lists. Charts. Learned where she liked to go, what her schedule was like. It was borderline stalking, only she had no problem letting me do it. We developed a routine: every weekday, I’d get home from work late in the afternoon and then she’d come over. Depending on whether or not Baxter was with her and whether or not we felt like going out, we’d either hang out at my place or I’d drive us around. Chloe complained about my driving now; she said I was way too slow and way too careful, even when I was going the speed limit. I ignored her.

One of my lists – the most morbid – contained possible causes of death. I added to it every chance I got. An accident involving a vehicle was the most obvious cause, and it was right up at the top of the list. The lower down I went, the most ridiculous they got. It ended with “sky-diving accident” and then “random tumor,” but I wound up crossing the second one out when I decided that the list should only be comprised of preventable causes.

Chloe’s life became more than just an extension of my own. I buried myself in it with an enthusiasm I’d only had once before: four years ago. As the days passed, I could see the similarities cropping up in my subconscious: trouble sleeping and panicky episodes, for example. But I couldn’t let up. Couldn’t
give
up. I had to keep her safe. Had to keep Chloe safe. Had to keep
Mom
safe…

I was twelve. I was twelve and Mom was coming downstairs, dressed up for dinner with a friend. And while Dad was telling her how beautiful she looked, a feeling so powerfully foreboding settled within me that I felt paralyzed with fear. I watched her and Dad laugh together as he twirled her around, watching her dress spin, and then I blurted out, “I don’t feel good.”

They both turned toward me, and I tipped forward abruptly, and, barely managing to stay on my feet, vomited. They rushed to me, one on either side of me, and Mom held back my hair as Dad helped me stay on my feet.

“Honey, let’s get you to your bed,” Mom cooed in my ear. “We’ll get you a trash can to put beside it. Your dad will take good care of you.”

I shook my head and gripped at her. “No. I want you to stay.”

She looked at me grimly. “I can’t, sweetie. I have dinner plans with Pam.”

“Please.” I didn’t know why I needed her around so suddenly, but the feeling was there, deep inside me, and I felt it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I couldn’t ignore it. “Please stay.”

“Your father will stay with you,” she insisted, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

I jolted awake, breathing hard, and fumbled for the clock on my nightstand. I turned it toward me and squinted. It was two in the morning.

Sighing, I rolled over and stared at my bedroom wall, vivid images from my dream swirling around in my mind. I didn’t need time to recall the details; they were all already embedded deep in my head. That night was impossible to forget. I hadn’t pushed hard enough. I’d known her number, and I’d had a feeling so strong it’d made me sick. But I hadn’t pushed hard enough to make her stay.

If it happened with Chloe…
when
it happened with Chloe… I’d be ready.

Chapter Five

“So what you’re saying is that I’m basically going to be forced to sit through the awkwardness along with you, then.”

“Basically,” I agreed, nodding over at Chloe. She grinned at me from the passenger’s seat of the car.

“Okay. But I’m staying over afterward.” She let out a squeal as Baxter surprised her from the back seat, jumping into her lap and licking at her face.

“Careful, I’m driving,” I reminded her.

“Super slowly. Where are we going? You should just tell me.”

“To one of my favorite places in San Francisco,” was all I said.

“Is it a gay bar? I hope it’s not. I don’t want to meet other girls.”

“I’m flattered,” I joked and ignored the way my stomach flopped.

“I have this theory,” Chloe began.

“You have a lot of theories.”

She ignored me and continued, “-that if I hit on you relentlessly enough, you’ll crack eventually. See, when guys do it, it’s creepy and gross, but I’m female and adorable and you actually like hanging out with me, so it’s okay.”

“Is it?”

She nodded simply and proceeded to kiss Baxter over and over on his head. He licked at her mouth and she saw me pull a face. “You’re just jealous he gets to kiss me and you don’t.”

“Uh huh.” I pulled into a parking lot and Chloe tugged at Baxter’s leash until he was under control. Then we got out of the car together. “Okay.” I pointed to the woods nearby. “We’re following that trail there for only about half a mile or so. My dad told me about this place a few years back. He and mom went here in high school on their first date.”

“Are you serious? And you try to act like you don’t like me,” Chloe marveled, her mouth wide open.

“You wanted to see where I go for fun and which places I like around here,” I insisted. “This is it.”

“And it’s a romantic dating spot your parents used to use. How convenient,” she drawled, sauntering past me. Or… attempting to. Baxter pulling at his leash ruined it a little.

We wound our way down the trail for ten minutes or so before we came to my parents’ hidden gem of a spot. Buried in the woods was a drop-off that led to a small body of water, distantly connected to the ocean. Up at the top of the cliff above the water’s edge was where I liked best, but nearby, the land sloped down to the water’s level, complete with a small beach, and it was easy to wade into the water from there.

“Whoa. Does anyone else know about this place?” Chloe asked me, already leading Baxter down the slope. “This is awesome! We have to bring bathing suits next time; I wanna try jumping off of that cliff.”

“Robbie knows I like it here. And you can’t jump from there,” I warned her. “There are rocks below; it’s really dangerous. You have to just get in from where you are now.” I followed her down the slope, pointing out the rocks in question. A few jutted out just visibly from beneath the water, but there were more underneath. “You’d have to be pretty lucky to miss them all. The drop itself isn’t too bad; it’s the landing that’s the problem.”

She frowned. “That sucks.”

“Gotta get your thrills somewhere else,” I lamented, patting her on the shoulder. She unleashed Baxter and he leapt into the water, splashing the both of us. I sat down on the sand as we watched him swim, and after a moment, Chloe joined me, admiring our surroundings.

“This is really beautiful, Harper.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say, and we both fell silent. As Baxter paddled back and forth, I felt Chloe shift closer to me. She leaned over and surprised me by kissing me gently on the cheek, and then rested her head on my shoulder. It felt natural, and I didn’t stop her. I didn’t want to.

“I thought San Francisco was going to be this constant gay pride parade,” she told me abruptly. “Like, hot lesbians everywhere. I’ve gotta say… this is better.”

“A seventeen-year-old socially awkward virgin with a job at a fast food place.
And
I’m refusing to date you. You sure hit the jackpot,” I joked.

“I must break you,” she replied in what sounded like a Russian accent. I pulled away to shoot her a confused look, and she looked disappointed.

“
Rocky IV
? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“They kept going after the first one?”

She sighed deeply, shaking her head. “What do you even watch?”

“I like older movies,” I explained. “
Casablanca, The Sound of Music
-”

“You’re so deep!” she sighed out, pretending to swoon.

“Oh, come on. Like, what’s so great about
Rocky IV
?”

“Sylvester Stallone punches shit!”

“You’re such a dude.”

“Well, the actors in your movies were probably all bigots. So there.”

“Because Sylvester Stallone is such a paragon of love and acceptance. Whatever. Julie Andrews is a gift.”

“She’s the exception,” Chloe conceded. “But still. I grew up on action movies the same way you grew up on your old-timey stuff. We’ll have to swap sometime. Or maybe watch one of each when I stay over.” She seemed excited by the idea. “Oh. I can show you the
Terminator
movies! Have you seen them? You know: ‘I’ll be back!’”

“That Schwarzenegger impression was abysmal. No, I haven’t. I’m showing you
The Sound of Music
because I know you haven’t seen it.”

“Okay.” She nodded, grinning. “Deal.”

* * *

Dinner with Deborah went, honestly, as expected. I didn’t learn much about her. She was overly polite and asked me about my interests, and tried too hard to forge some kind of bond between us. We didn’t have very much in common from what I could tell; some of her favorite activities included going on hikes and running marathons. That wasn’t anything like my dad at all either, so I couldn’t see why he liked her so much. She seemed nice, sure, but I took everything she said and did with a grain of salt. She was trying to make me like her, so, naturally, I didn’t exactly warm to her.

Chloe was more polite than usual, too. It was her first time really getting to know my dad. They got along better than Deborah and I did. In fact, most of the conversation over dinner consisted of just the two of them talking. I stayed quiet unless someone addressed me directly. Most of the time it was Deborah, with a question like, “So do you play any sports?” (“No.”) or “Are you excited for your senior year to start?” (“I guess. I don’t know.”) All in all, it wasn’t fun.

Eventually, Dad made the mistake of asking Chloe if she had any college plans yet or if she knew what she wanted to do when she got older, and I felt like sinking down into my seat until I disappeared. I didn’t want to hear about Chloe’s hopes and dreams and plans for her life. Not until I could ensure her safety.

I wasn’t sure exactly what her birth date was, but I assumed it was mid to late August, right around when school started back up. That meant I needed to put everything I had into keeping her safe for two more months. If we could get to her birthday, then maybe things could be different with us.

To be perfectly honest, I wanted them to be.

We put on her movie first in my bedroom when we finished dinner (
and
after I spent quite a while assuring my dad that Chloe and I were just friends), and, after about two hours of watching Arnold shoot his way through just about every obstacle placed in front of him, up to and including a small army of human beings, it was time for my movie.

I yawned and slid down on my bed once I’d finished setting the movie up. Chloe and I’d sat on my bed for the first movie, popcorn between us and our backs pressed up against my pillows, but now she set the bowl aside and laid down to join me. I wondered, as she moved closer and her hand brushed against mine, if she was confused by my behavior. She had to know that I already liked her, for all her teasing about convincing me to date her in the future. There was really no reason for things not to progress naturally between us; at least, not from her perspective.

From mine, there was only the escalated emotional involvement that came with dating someone. If I committed, it’d make it harder to lose her. And a large part of me was worried that despite my best efforts to prevent it, I would.

I glanced over at her to see her watching the movie with rapt attention. She’d moved the popcorn to her other side, and the hand that wasn’t pressing up against mine every few seconds had a fistful of popcorn in it and was currently being raised to her mouth. I smiled as she tried and failed to fit the entire handful.

“Don’t get popcorn all over my bed, loser.”

“Don’t stare at me when your favorite movie’s on, Romeo,” she bit back, unfazed. “So desperate. God.”

I huffed and hid a smile as I shifted my head back toward the television, acutely aware of the position of her hand again. I wanted her to keep touching me. I wanted to forget what I knew about her and just be
normal
. I didn’t want to have to spend my summer playing God.

On the screen, Liesl and Rolfe were dancing together to “Sixteen Going on Seventeen”, which was more than a little morbid given the circumstances. Chloe ate another handful of popcorn and murmured, “This asshole. I bet he betrays her. He looks sketchy.”

I was only half-listening to her. My gaze drifted down to where our hands were nearly touching, and I shifted mine to bring it closer to hers. Heart thudding hard in my chest, I reached out with my pinky to brush it up against hers. She reacted by pushing hers back against mine and then linking our pinkies together, and I heard her swallow another handful of popcorn.

“Look at his douchebag, dancing around,” she muttered, eyes still on the screen, but her pinky squeezed mine tighter between us.

“Can I ask you something?” I questioned abruptly.

She glanced over at me. “Hmm? Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

I searched her face for a moment, my eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you so forward with girls? Aren’t you ever afraid of rejection?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No. I used to get nervous. Then one day I decided that was stupid. So now, whenever I start to hesitate, I just tell myself to not worry about the consequences, push past the nerves, and do whatever it was I almost didn’t.”

“That seems like a good way to make a lot of mistakes,” I pointed out.

“Life’s all about mistakes. And it’s way too short to just wait around instead of cutting through the bullshit.”

I shifted backward to get a better look at her face. “Is that what this is? The bullshit?” I wasn’t angry, and took care not to sound that way. I just genuinely wanted to get inside her head.

“Of course not. This is… me spending a summer with a pretty girl, who, if she were to decide she maybe did actually wanna act on her urge to kiss me, would be welcome to do so.”

“You’re waiting,” I restated for her. “You just said life’s too short to wait around.”

“I make exceptions.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “If you have a problem with it, you could end the waiting. Especially given that I’m not really sure what we’re waiting for. I mean, it’s been like three weeks since we met now. We live in San Francisco so homophobia won’t be a problem. I’m solidly gay, and you’re not exactly waving a rainbow flag but you
have
claimed to play for my team, so.”

I didn’t respond. We laid in silence for a moment, facing each other. I watched her lips part as she let out an overdramatic sigh and thought of Robbie and what he’d say about this. He’d probably make extra sure I knew that Chloe was doomed regardless, because fate had already made its decision. He’d also probably say that I was a lost cause. Maybe that was true.

Chloe chewed on her lip as we broke eye contact and her gaze drifted lower. Her hand came up and touched my cheek, then slid down to my neck and stayed there, her fingers unconsciously urging me forward by putting pressure at the base of my skull.

I watched her, unmoving, and swallowed hard. She’d stopped biting her lip and was smiling at me now, and I marveled at the fact that a girl like her could ever be interested in a girl like me. She lit up rooms when she walked into them, and I was the epitome of the shy, antisocial kid that sat alone in corners at parties. Yet here we were, her with her hand on my neck as she shifted ever so slightly closer.

“Why do you like me?” I asked her.

She looked confused by the question and backed off. “Because you’re cute.”

“No, seriously.” I sat up, and her hand slid off of my neck as she joined me. I watched her, waiting.

She took a deep breath and then rolled her eyes. “Because you’re
cute
.” I opened my mouth to chastise her, but she kept talking. “That was the reason after we talked for the first time, anyway. After that… I don’t know. You were interesting. You have so much going for you: a nice dad, your looks, the dry sense of humor.” She smiled, almost sadly. “But it feels like… everything’s grey to you.”

“Grey?” I echoed, confused.