The Color of Silence (2 page)

Chapter 2

Is anyone there? I think I can feel you walking around my room, but I can't find you.

I think I catch a glimpse of you, white shirt and pants whispering past me. Your shoes are the silent kind that hide you from me.

I need you to speak to me! I can't find you in the room without your voice to give me something to aim for. What are you looking at? Machines that beep and hiss out a breath for me when my lungs can't do it on their own? Are the machines more interesting than me? Is their noise easier to hear than mine? My thoughts don't beep or hiss.

I'm not a machine. I'm alive and much more interesting than the machine that is only pretending to be my lungs.

Now you come to my side and look into my eyes. Your head moves slightly in time with mine like we're doing a strange dance. What do you see? Do you see me?

Do you know who I am?

“There's my Joanie! It's time to get some food into you.”

Nurse Kathleen is standing there, smiling at me, a bag of pretend food in her hand. I try to look happy to see her.

Kathleen is gentle as she tries to straighten out my body, shifting me up slightly on the pillows so that she can attach the feeding tube to the hole in my stomach. My arms and legs fling themselves at her as she tries to work. I have a talk with my brain, telling it to get my parts under control so we can get the business over with, but as usual, it doesn't get the message. I keep trying, and so does Kathleen. Eventually she gets everything attached and the pump starts whirring and thumping as it announces that my food is coming through the tube into my stomach.

“There's my girl. I know, honey. You're tired, aren't you?
It will be done soon.”

Kathleen is kind, but she isn't someone who can see deeper than my outsides.

She touches my hair, gently pushing it out of my eyes. She's trying to be understanding, but it's hard. After all, her food comes with colors and smells that make it interesting. She chews and swallows her food on her own.

I wonder what that would be like. I try to imagine it sometimes. I have heard descriptions of eating in books—characters who talk about freshly baked cookies or velvety chocolates that melt in your mouth.

I think I would love to feel chocolate melt in my mouth!

Kathleen thinks I'm tired, but I'm not. I don't think I'm hungry, either, but I'm not actually sure what hungry feels like. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know that. I wish this body of mine could understand what my brain wants it to do. Then I could find my voice, and Kathleen and I could talk about things that are more interesting than stomach tubes.

I try to turn my head toward her, but my brain and neck can't get their act together, and I'm left staring straight up at my ceiling. This is not a bad thing, though, because my stone necklace is hanging there. It might seem like a strange place for a necklace, but I'm not allowed to wear it because people are afraid that it could choke me.

Dangerous beauty.

So it hangs above me, where someone was kind enough to put it so that I can see the lights gently shining through the soft polished colors.

Kathleen touches my forehead for a second, checking to see if I am warm. She nods as if we have had a conversation and I have said something wise.

Then she just disappears from my view, and I don't know if she's here anymore or not. I think I hear the door shut, but I can't be sure. The doors around here are as silent as the shoes. I wish they would install a door that could slam a loud exclamation point!

I look back up at my stones. My eyes are the only thing on me that I have any kind of control over, and recently I have found that if I try to focus on my necklace for a moment or two, sometimes I can will myself to relax so my head will stop dancing on the pillow for a tiny piece of time.

I concentrate with all of my power until the moments start to stretch out longer and longer, as if time has actually decided to slow down just for me. Even my lungs seem to be joining in,
slowing down my breathing and making me feel like I could lie here like this for as long as I wish. My head has almost stopped moving, and for the first time I can actually see my stones clearly enough to focus on the individual colors. Each one smiles down at me, making me feel calm and peaceful.
I imagine they're saying hello to me, inviting me into their light.

I keep staring and staring until I start to feel as if the colors are actually reaching down for me, trying to draw me in. My eyelids start to feel a bit heavy, and I fight with them as they threaten to take the colors away, like blinds on a window shutting out the light.

“Hey you—keep those eyes open! We have to get you up
and going.”

I'm almost asleep when Kathleen whispers back into
my room.

My eyes pop back open as strong arms lift me off the bed and onto a slanted chair that reminds me of the one I had at the group home where I used to live. The workers there used it to help me get dressed.

This is odd. I've never used it here before. I didn't even know there was one in my room. I thought I had managed to see everything here by now. Every time someone moves me,
I do my best to look around so I know where I am.

Not that there's all that much to see. White walls, white beds—two of them, even though I live here alone—a silver table beside the white bed, machines that pretend to be parts of me, a gray-and-silver chair at the end of my bed for someone else to sit in. And my wheelchair, which waits for me over by the window.

But no slanted dressing chairs.

What else have I missed?

I do my best to look straight ahead, trying to focus my vision and my mind at the same time.

My thoughts fly out and scatter around the room as my eyes are assaulted by a bright pink wall, with a picture of huge, brilliant yellow sunflowers hanging proudly in the middle of it.

Only one thought has managed to stay in my head.

I'm definitely not in the hospital anymore!

I close my eyes again, trying to collect myself so that
I can think.

“Come on, my lady. You can't be that tired. We have places to go and things to do. We're going to the fair today!”

The strong arms give me a gentle shake, and I risk opening my eyes again. It's not Kathleen at all. It's Brenda! Brenda, who doesn't work at the hospital. Brenda, who's my absolute favorite group-home worker.

I haven't seen her in quite a while.

Why am I seeing her now?

Am I dreaming?

Am I awake and dreaming at the same time?

Does it even matter?

I'm home and Brenda's here and we're going to the fair!

I love it when Brenda's on shift. She's fast and she talks the whole time, so I don't even really notice her cleaning me up and changing my diaper. I don't really like to call it that because that's what babies wear, but I don't know of another word. Mostly I just don't call it anything at all.

“So, as soon as you're all dressed and breakfast is done, we're heading off. It's going to be awesome! We're going to check out the animal tent, and there's a magic show we're going to try to catch. There're rides—I'm not sure about that part for you—but there're lots of other things to do. Oh, and there's a lake, as well, which we're going to try out if it's warm enough for everyone. Man, I love fairs!”

I'm pretty sure I'm going to love the fair too. I've never been to one before, and it sounds super exciting. Even the word fair is interesting. I love words that have different personalities. Sometimes fair means that the weather is nice, and at other times it means that everyone is getting what they deserve. And sometimes it means rides and animals and magic. And today it means all three!

And there's going to be a lake! I've never been in a lake before, but I do love going in the water. My arms and legs still move around a lot, but the water holds them gently, slowing them down and making me feel relaxed.

Brenda is gentle and quick, and I don't worry if my legs are misbehaving as she tries to get them into my track pants. Pink ones today. My best ones, because we're going out. I mostly wear track pants because they're soft and stretchy, easy to get on and off. Relatively easy anyway.

“Pretty in pink, my dear. Pam will get your breakfast up to you in a minute and then we'll get ready to go. It's beautiful outside. The rain has stopped and the sun's just beating down. Perfect day to go to the fair.”

“Hey, what about me? I'm awake too! I need to get going too!” The voice comes from my roommate, Debbie. I can just make my eyes move enough to see a head peeking out of the top of a purple bedspread covered in butterflies.

“Good morning to you too. And yes, I'll help you get organized in a minute. I have to finish with Joanie first.”

“How come she's always first?”

“First of all, you were asleep until about three seconds ago. And second of all, you know her breakfast takes a lot longer than yours does. So chill out and be patient, young lady. We'll all get to the fair.”

“Chill out! How can I chill out when we're going to the fair? I love fairs! Have you ever been to one, Joanie? I have. My parents took me. It was completely awesomely wonderful. I even went on rides with my dad. Nothing too fast, which kind of sucked but still it was cool. You're going to love it!”

Debbie likes to talk. It doesn't seem to matter to her that I can't answer. Debbie's body is paralyzed, so she can't move it at all, not even by accident the way I do. But as Brenda always says, she doesn't have any trouble exercising her mouth muscles!

“Hey, sweetheart, I hear there's lots going on around here today, so I'll try to get this done as quickly as I can. Good morning, Debbie.” Pam smiles at us both as she comes into the room. Pam is the nurse who visits our group home every day. She mostly comes for me. She feeds me and checks my breathing and things.

She gets me all hooked up and starts the pump. “There we go. I'll have you out of here in no time!”

No time. That's a funny expression. Everything takes
some
time, doesn't it?

Especially breakfast. Even though Pam is trying to be quick, it seems to take forever, as usual. Brenda has Debbie completely up, dressed, and downstairs before the bag even empties into me.

Finally we get outside and head over to the bus. Debbie and the others are already loaded on by the time we get there.

“Joanie, look!” Brenda tips my chair back so far that I'm almost lying on the ground. It feels strange, and I don't understand what she's doing—at first.

“Straight up. Look—a rainbow!”

My eyes are so amazed by it that I have trouble focusing at first. My first real-live and in-person rainbow. It's so beautiful that it makes me want to cry. How can such perfection exist? So bright, so alive, as if someone took a giant paintbrush and just went flying across the sky, back and forth, changing directions and changing colors at the same time.

I close my eyes and paint it into my memory as quickly as I can so I can hold onto it forever.

“Joanie, are you sleeping?” Kathleen's voice sneaks into my mind. She's talking quietly, but it still startles me, and I open my eyes, hoping against hope that there's still a rainbow up there, painted across a brilliant blue sky.

But I see nothing except my necklace hanging from the white ceiling.

Brenda and Debbie and the rainbow and the fair are gone.

I want them back! That was such a wonderful day. I had almost forgotten all about it, lying here in this place that seems so very far away from yesterday. I close my eyes again quickly, hoping that I'll find a way back, but nothing happens.

“Of course you're sleeping. Why would I ask such a thing? What else could you be doing?”

She doesn't wait around for my answer. She wouldn't hear me anyway. She doesn't really know how to listen.

I do lots of things. I think. I dream. I hope.

I wait a bit until I'm pretty sure she's gone and then open my eyes.

The light is illuminating my necklace until the colors are so bright that they don't even look like stones anymore. It's as if brilliant streaks of light are burning through each stone, shooting right out across the ceiling.

I think I am looking at a rainbow after all.

Chapter 3

“What do you mean, you're not sure you're going to go to the party this weekend? You have to come!” Cali looks at me in complete shock.

“I can't come. I have to get ready for the recital. My voice is still a bit off, and I need to get it back.”

“That's just silly. The recital is a full two days after the party, and you already sound great. You can take one night off.” She smiles sweetly at me, fluttering her eyelashes.

“That doesn't work on me, Miss Perfect Voice. You can sing anything without even practicing. Some of us have to work at it, you know.”

Cali looks at me and shakes her head. “I agree. My voice
is
perfect. And I
do
understand the need you lesser mortals have to try to measure up to me. But you can still take one night off.” She pats me on the head, and I swat her away like the bug she's trying to be.

“You're so full of it. You know that?”

“I am full of all kinds of wonderful things. I do know that. Come on, Lexi. Live a little.”

“I don't know. I'll think about it. My dad probably wouldn't let me go anyway.”

“We'll just tell him you're spending the night with me practicing.”

“You want me to lie to my dad?”

“It won't
really
be a lie. We can sing in the car. It'll just be a little white lie.”

She laughs and puts her arm around me, walking me down the hallway toward the choir room. A couple of guys from math class walk by and laugh at us. Cali sticks her tongue out at them.

“You'd better take a picture because you'll never get a piece of this!” she yells at their backs. I push her arm off my shoulder and take off running toward the choir room.

“Wait up, gorgeous!” she says loudly, as she catches up to me easily and puts both hands on my shoulders, propelling me into the music room and giving me a big kiss on the cheek when we get there. No one in the music room even blinks because everyone in our program is used to Cali. She's like the class clown and prom queen all rolled up together into one totally strange and awesome person.

I never did figure out how I ended up as her best friend.

Cali winks at me from over in the alto section. She doesn't even look winded. I'm trying to catch my breath so that I can sing.

I love choir. It makes me feel like I'm part of something bigger than my own voice, like I'm one piece in a puzzle of beautiful sounds.

Cali hates choir. She says it feels like being in grade school and she would rather sing solo. Most of the time she doesn't even memorize the words. She just does what she calls “the watermelon.” When she doesn't know the words to a song, she just sings “watermelon” over and over, and apparently Ms. Hann doesn't know the difference. I guess she would notice if we all did that, but I don't think anyone else would have the nerve.

The music of my favorite song from
Les Mis
swells around me, filling the air with the drama and heartache of broken dreams.

I look over to the alto section. Cali is singing away, and
I have to look really carefully before I realize that she's not singing about anyone's dreams.

She's just singing about watermelons.

“Alex? Did you hear me?”

The voice interrupts the music, and Cali's face fades away. I'm staring at a worksheet with three math exercises. There should be some answers written down by now. But the page is blank.

Like me.

Ms. Smithson walks over and stands behind me.

“You're not getting much done, I see. You're obviously distracted today. Is everything all right?”

I nod my head without looking around.

“Do you have any questions about the assignment?”

I shake my head.

“OK, then…Well, my time is up for today. The worksheet shouldn't take you too long—I'll expect to see it completed when I come tomorrow. I'll email your science assignment just in case you get done early and want something to do.” She laughs a little so I know she's joking. I don't join in, and her laugh ends in a sigh.

“Bye, Alex. Try to stay focused. It's important for you to keep up with the class. I'll see you tomorrow.”

I keep staring at the blank page as I listen to her packing up her things and heading out the door.

My
door.

I'm not at school.

Obviously.

I don't go to school anymore. School comes to me.

My dad says I have to go back to school one day, but there is no way I will walk through those doors again. I heard that the kids at school made Cali's locker into a shrine in the first days after she died. There were pictures and flowers all over it. I remember having the stupid thought that they shouldn't be doing that because they would be making it a bigger mess than it was already. As if that mattered. As if anything mattered.

Some of the kids at school even wanted her locker to be permanently locked as a reminder of her. I don't think the principal went for it though.

Cali was the kind of person that pretty much everyone liked. I'm the kind of person that most people didn't think about much, except when I was with Cali.

But I know they think about me now.

They hate me for taking Cali away.

I asked my father if we could move somewhere far away where no one would know me and we could at least try to start over. He said something like “this is our home” and “you have nothing to be ashamed of” and “you could start over right here.” Something like that. Some version of that.

Some kind of lie like that.

Not a white lie.

Just a plain old ugly colorless lie.