Kaleidoscope (10 page)

But then,
I reasoned,
maybe some people just don't have the personality on the inside to put out there in the first place. Maybe in getting a tattoo, they're trying to create one for themselves.

A mysterious thought came to me then; I imagined a tattoo that was able to change a person from the outside in. Perhaps a person could actually develop a personality through such shallow means. I was no psychologist, but if someone pretended to be something for long enough, they become that to others, right? I wondered if I could pretend to be normal, gracing the earth with my presence like a swan gracefully cutting through a lake with the gentle blade of its wings. Would I become a swan if I tried hard enough?

I absentmindedly stuffed candy corn after candy corn into my mouth as I pondered this, coming back to reality only as Austin made another reference to the movie. I looked at him, smiling, but he appeared puzzled in response.

“Are you actually watching the movie, or are you just keeping your eyes on that candy?” he joked. “You've just been kind of spacing out for the last fifteen minutes or so.”

I grinned at him to cover my embarrassment, then looked down at my lap. “I'm sorry...I'm trying to watch the movie. I'm just a little tired.”

Mom's voice echoed from the hallway behind me unannounced. “I'm with you there, those pages were a doozy.”

She shuffled out, now wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt instead of the more formal outfit that she'd worn earlier to work.

“Welcome back Ms. Lauder—um, Allison!”

Mom smiled sweetly at him, flattered that he'd remembered to use her first name.

“Thank you Austin. I won't be out here for long though...it's been a long day and I'm going to bed soon. I hate to cut your visit short, kids, but I'm afraid that since I'm off to sleep, I'm going to have to kick you out.” She glanced apologetically at Austin before she bustled to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

“Well fine, I didn't want to stay here anyway,” Austin teased. Mom contained her amusement and replaced it with a mock severe look.

As Austin stood up and grabbed his sweater jacket, I deflated inside. It had been exhausting exerting all of my energy on passing for an average human being, but I somehow felt so much better in his company. It had been worth it.

Abandoning the candy on the couch, I shuffled towards the door, following after him as I assumed a good host would. I'd seen my mother host throughout her various relationships, and when I was younger and she'd have dinner parties with her work friends, so I tried to emulate her hospitable qualities. Somehow, though, I couldn't help but feel like I looked more like a lost puppy than a good host.

Austin turned to me as we approached the door, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and stowing the other in his pocket.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you for Halloween,” he said.

“Well, thank you for wanting to come by. It was really fun, I...” I paused, summoning up my courage. “We should hang out again sometime.”

A wide smile spread over Austin's face. “Yes and yes! And thank you Ms....Allison, it was great to meet you.”

Mom remained in the kitchen. She gave us space to say goodbye without me wanting to shoot myself, but was still close enough that she wouldn't miss any of the action. She smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“It was lovely meeting you too Austin, I'm sure we'll see you again soon.”

We both hesitated for a minute, unsure of what sort of farewell would be appropriate for a budding friendship. “Well...goodnight,” Austin finally said, patting the outside of my arm gently. “I'll see you on Thursday!” He turned to step outside.

“Yeah, I'll uh, see you then. Have a good night.”

And just like smoke blowing through a velvet sky, he was gone as suddenly as he had appeared. I heard mom slinking behind me to go to bed, but she stopped on her way and came to stand behind me.

“Goodnight honey,” she said. Then she lowered her voice, and almost conspiratorially, she whispered, “Your new friend is cute. Very cute.”

I smirked, then shoved her away. “Ugh, stop being so weird. Goodnight.”

Mom chuckled, sauntering down the hallway to go to bed, but not before tossing her head over her shoulder towards me. “I'm just saying...and he's such a gentleman too. You could really get in trouble with someone like that!”

I shook my head, completely oblivious to whatever it was she was blathering about, and made to go up to my bedroom. It was time to resume my solitude and process all the events of the evening.

I'd considered writing everything down so that there was no chance that I could forget it—not that I believed I ever could.

              However, as I scurried around my room looking for a pen and a scrap of paper to temporarily replace my journal, no such paper seemed to exist anywhere nearby, and I became overwhelmed with exhaustion. I was definitely an introvert--socializing and being around people in general tended to wipe me of all my energy, regardless of how pleasant or unpleasant the company. Instead of continuing my search, I turned out my light, mashed my comforter into a halfway useful shape for its intended purpose, laid my head on my pillow, and stared at my ceiling. I hoped my mind would stop racing at a million miles per minute, preferably sooner than later, so  I could actually rest.

I thought about the craziness of the past few weeks and how different they were to my everyday way living. Wistfully, I thought about the barrier that clearly existed between the experiences I'd had recently and my feelings about them. I wished more than anything that I could feel the joy and anticipation I knew were appropriate, the ones I knew I wanted to feel.

Not all hope was lost though. I thought about the faint glimmer of the emotions I unconsciously held in check. They existed at only a fraction of their power, but still they flickered like the ember of a fire. They smoldered and burned, but they hadn't ignited just yet. They needed some sort of push to become a wildfire.

Even so, I could feel something was there, and that's all that mattered.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The sounds of vibrant life and laughter surrounded me. I looked around at the various carnival-style tents, set up side by side in different colors and patterns, with each tent belonging to someone with their own talent to sell. As I walked down the aisle between two rows of small, tightly-knit sales booths, a traveling gypsy-looking fellow offered to read my tarot cards.

“What's in the cards for you, young lady?” he asked wolfishly, hoping that he could pinch at least a couple bucks from my wallet.

I looked around me, then up at the grey autumn sky and back down at the bustle of surrounding activity. Some of the fellow visitors were dressed as plainly as I was, but some wore costumes resembling the carnies that were hard at work. I noticed a warmth exuding from my left hand, and I realized I wasn't walking through the chaos alone. There was a fluttering in my heart and a lightness in my step as I allowed myself to be swept up in the activity.

I turned my attention to see who I walked with, and I was elated to see the tall form of a handsome boy beside me. He looked more like a man in the radiant autumn light as it gleamed across his light caramel-colored skin and tousled dark, almost black hair. And those eyes...

The crowd bustled around us as we walked hand-in-hand. He laughed and took in the surrounding scene, pointing at various attractions. He motioned towards a bar, where hulking pitchers of beer were served to various performers, entertainers, and magicians, who laughed and hollered joyfully at each other and at random passers-by. Our arms swung in time, and I felt safe beside his silhouette. Then we walked towards the most impressive thing of all—the main stage.

Situated under a large maroon and blue striped awning, the main stage was an enormous wooden structure complete with dozens and dozens of red fold-out chairs that congregated on the lawn in front of it. A few were seated amongst them as crowds more thronged their way in, eager to see what was about to happen and chattering excitedly to one another. On the stage stood a ringleader, dressed in his Sunday best and carrying an enchanting cane. He cavorted and twirled into a whimsical bow, and the audience grew louder with anticipation. 

However, it was what lay next to him, perched regally on the ground of the stage on a magnificently bright purple rug, that took my breath away.

A beautiful, blue-eyed white tiger took center stage, presiding over the audience like a king watching over its subjects. It didn't seem bothered by the fact that it was the object of the audience's fascination as it sat, uncaged, beside the ringleader. It radiated the same calm demeanor I'd witnessed when I first encountered the beast in the snowy land of many days before, and I melted with tranquility again as I gazed at its ice-blue orbs. They were fixed directly onto me.

I allowed the hand tangled in mine to fall gently away as I strode forward, intent on making my way to the stage. As I pushed my way through the aisles of chairs, it seemed as though the distance stretched further and further the more I walked, and I found myself moving faster and faster to keep up.

But finally, after what seemed like ages, I found myself leaning against the stage, reaching out tentatively to feel the softness of the tiger's fur. At the same time, I saw the ringleader drive his cane into the stage out of the corner of my eye. It was as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea, and then...true magic happened.

The tiger let one triumphant roar escape from its massive jaws before it dissipated into a hundred beautiful blue and purple butterflies fluttering higher and higher into the sky, blotting out the sun and scattering its rays into decadent glitter as it gleamed against their wings. I was lifted into a sense of euphoria as the butterflies tickled my hands and face, and I twirled in place, holding my arms away from my body and gazing up at the sky, and it seemed very possible that at any moment I would grow wings and fly away with them too.

***

I woke that Tuesday morning with tears streaming softly down my cheeks and onto my pillow. It had been so long since I remembered crying. I could remember the dream, clear as if it had just happened in front of me, but the ecstatic, overwhelming sensation of freedom that had overtaken my body was now a wispy, silvery remnant that I clung to as I propped myself up in my bed.

What an incredible feeling
, I thought. The moment of euphoria was liberating, but also terrifying. If “normal” people experienced emotions with such intensity all the time, well...I didn't necessarily know I wanted to be normal after all.

Today was the day I would see my therapist, Ms. Orowitz, just like any other Tuesday. However, this particular day at her average, stuffy office would be more important than most.  Not only did I have a lot to talk about for once (though I didn't know if I would be open to discussing it), but my journal was almost full, so I would be giving it to her for analysis. I didn't know whether to feel anxious or apathetic about this; whether I should feel vengefully successful at how quick I had filled the journal, or just curious. Would she would be able to decipher the strange ramblings of my frazzled brain?

I walked towards the familiar building that was home to at least twenty businesses of various natures, relishing in the feeling of the last of snow-dampened leaves pressing against the soles of my boots. It was another cold day today, but the sun blazed in the sky like a beacon of realization, illuminating the grey, wintery sky and casting light into it against the few fragile leaves that still clung to branches. Winter was certainly on its way.

The walk didn't take long, but my gloveless fingers were still numb and grateful to be free from the elements as I stepped into the long hallway and made my way Ms. Orowitz's room, halfway down and to the right. Trying the door handle, I saw it was unlocked, as per usual, and I  stepped inside.

Ms. Orowitz's outfit choice today was even more questionable than usual. With the passing of Halloween, I already suspected she was probably one of those people who would start celebrating Christmas within the next few days—but this was too much. The frilly green and white reindeer sweater she wore, coupled with a pair of khaki slacks and a pair of pine green high heels and red plaid, knee-high socks practically shouted “Christmas” from the rooftops. I held in my commentary, pursing my lips together, and made my way over to her desk.

“Hello Jade, nice to see you again!” This was her other favorite catch line, in addition to reminding me of what day of the week we'd been meeting on for the past three months.

“Hi Ms. Orowitz,” I supplied with little enthusiasm.

“How was your Halloween?”

I recalled the lovely evening with as much detail as if it had just happened yesterday. It was a very welcome change.

“It was actually very nice,” I replied, hiding a smile from her view. “I uh, had a friend over, and we ate dinner with my mom and handed out candy to the kids.”

“Well, that sounds fun!” she exclaimed, crossing her legs and twirling one foot. I glanced downward, assuming she expected some kind of compliment on her strange attire.
Well, she isn't getting it from me, that's for sure.
“Maybe we'll talk more about this friend of yours in our session today?”

“Maybe.” I still didn't know how much information I wanted to provide to her, and I'd been thinking about it on the entire walk over to her office. On one hand, my memories did seem to be improving, and I really did want to get “better” I suppose, but at the same time I wanted my feelings about the event to be private, for me and only me to enjoy. I didn't think I was up for the analyzation that would come along with talking about such personal things.

Still standing in front of her, I pulled the now-familiar journal out of my pocket and placed it on Ms. Orowitz's desk, prompting her to readjust her enormous glasses. She stared at it for a moment, then at me.

“Um, I did want to let you know that I think I'm ready for you to read this.”

“Oh Jade,” she said, “I'm very excited, and a little surprised, to see that you're so willing to share what you've written for me, but I'll need for it to be complete so I can take it home and look over it, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” I replied flatly as she demonstrated, once again, her lack of faith in me. “I'm out of pages.”

Her dark, beady little eyes blinked slowly. “Wow, really?” she said. “But it's only been three weeks!”

“Well,” I hesitated. “I've...I've found that I like writing things down.” I swallowed my pride to add, “I guess you were right, it does help me stay a little more organized.”

The pleasure on Ms. Orowitz's face, framed by her usual unkempt mass of curly hair, was immeasurable. I think I'd even left her at a loss for words—silently, she picked up the small book as if she were afraid I might change my mind at any minute. She smiled at me and asked, “Do you mind if I have a look through it? Maybe we can talk about some of the things you've written in here if you would like.”

I nodded, permitting her to thumb through the miniscule book. I didn't understand why she'd bother to ask—it was
her
science experiment, her request that I fill it, and her desire to read through it and analyze me. She would read it no matter what, and I'd known that the whole time. I curled my lip at her lack of tact and quietly took my place on the sofa.

The clock seemed to stretch on forever as the therapist took a moment to peruse through all of my entries, occasionally raising her eyebrow in surprise or knitting them together in concentrated thought. I squirmed a bit in my seat, feeling vaguely uncomfortable watching a person's reaction to reading my personal thoughts.

When someone analyzed my paintings—that was different. I wanted it to make an impression on them, and I enjoyed getting feedback because I had control of whether or not I changed it, if it was something I really wanted to do. With this, though, I couldn't change the way I perceived the world, at least not right now. I couldn't accommodate someone's judgmental thinking to make them like me more.

“You're a very good writer from what I can see,” Ms. Orowitz commented as she settled on reading an entry further towards the back of the journal. “You're very good at articulating your thoughts onto paper! I can see why you enjoyed this exercise.”

“I said I enjoyed writing, not the memory exercises,” I interrupted. “Actually, it was pretty unpleasant to realize how little I remember from the past few years. But thanks.”

“Ah yes, I understand. My apologies, dear.”

I glowered at her for a moment longer in the silent, stuffy atmosphere. I felt trapped. My heart leaped through my chest as I remembered the vivid dream I had awakened from this morning. I wished I could fly away and escape, just like hundreds of beautiful butterflies into the sun.

Again Ms. Orowitz broke the silence, closing the journal and setting it back onto her desk. “I really look forward to reading through this. I'll do so and get back to you as soon as possible! In the meantime, is there anything specific from it you'd like to talk with me about?”

I shrugged and shook my head lightly. “Pretty much everything I can think of is written down, so I'd just be repeating myself,” I replied.

“Fair enough. Well, do you want to tell me anything about your new friend? I saw the name Austin mentioned briefly in one of your entries, is that the one you visited with on Halloween?”

I paused for a moment. “Yes,” I said with deep hesitation. “He...I met him at the painting class.”

She leaned forward, and I saw that she'd gone into psychobabble mode, though she tried to make it as subtle as she could. Ms. Orowitz remained silent and patient, imploring me with her magnified eyes to continue talking at my own pace. I sighed in resignation, slumping back into the sofa to reveal more.

“We...have an ongoing project. Thursday is our last class of the series; the teacher had us paint portraits. If they're good enough, I think the instructor wants to put them on display for the holiday season in the lobby of the rec center. Austin sits across from me, and he started talking to me and we became friends.” I widened my eyes at her, suggesting there wasn't much more information I thought she'd get from this conversation and wondering what else she'd want from me.

“I'm so glad you were able to take something positive from your experience of taking that class!” She winked, seeming to know, in all of her sharp wit and experience, that she would have correctly assumed as much. Of course, if I'd told her that the painting class made me try to commit suicide, she likely would have still acted as though she had known it all along.

“Do you think you'll continue going to this class after your project is finished?”

I thought about it.
I guess it depends on if Austin goes as often as he says he does
, is what I really wanted to say. Instead I replied, “I might, but I'm not sure.”

I sighed. Why did I feel so compelled to cooperate with her today? “I do like the classes, but I know they cost at least something, even if it's just the monthly cost of membership to the rec center...I'm not sure how much it all costs, but getting to the point, I don't want to burden my mom financially. She's already paying for me to be here, I don't want her to have to do everything. I...” I hung my head. “I wish I could contribute.”