Cerulean Cobalt Cornflower
Blue Room
“You’re painting the room blue?” the woman with the curly hair asked when she heard me half-talking to myself. Instinctively she looked around her at the bright yellow walls of the waiting room. “Was it the doctor’s idea? Blue has a calming effect, I read somewhere. Oh, I would like a blue room.” My father had walked over to us before I had the chance to explain what I had meant. I was planning to do a painting of a room like the waiting room, but in the painting the walls would be blue. Dad had remarked on the calming effect she mentioned, though, so he was thinking about painting the actual walls too.
“Mrs. Marion, you can come into my office in just a minute. You can go inside now if you would prefer, I just need to speak to my daughter.” He leant over to me slightly and I saw the girl two seats away from me look up from the book she was holding. I always felt terrible for thinking it, but I was scared of her expression. It was too nervous, as if she knew of some terrible emergency but the rest of us hadn’t even heard the alarm.
“Are you alright here? We’ll be going home in around another half an hour, and you have your drawing to keep you occupied. You said you were drawing it as a blue room, didn’t you? Pick out a nice shade of blue.” He smiled, for some reason talking as if I was a very small child- I hoped he didn’t talk to the waiting room people that way.
“And stop staring at me,” said the girl. I wasn’t expecting her to speak, and she said it so quietly I thought I had imagined it. My father looked around but, oddly enough seeing as he spent so much time listening to people, he hadn’t heard her at all. I would have thought it was a ghost if I believed in them. I felt as nervous as she looked.
I drew boring lines in a copy I had that were meant to be the room’s walls. A nice shade of blue… people in the room tended to wear blue, less like the tranquil blue the woman was thinking of but more like the phrase “feeling blue”. I had a feeling the girl was wearing blue, but I didn’t want to look at her in case she thought I was staring.
I closed my eyes and put my head sideways as if I was trying to sleep. For some reason the darkness when I closed my eyes looked slightly purple. I wished it was blue, just to give me some idea of a “nice shade of blue”. The only shade of blue I could think of by its name was cyan. It was a bright blue as far as I could remember, the kind that children coloured in the sea with in drawings. Cerulean was another name I knew but I couldn’t picture it, as hard as I tried. Blue was my favourite colour when I was younger, but somehow I seemed to have grown out of it. I hadn’t noticed until now. The pencil I had was blue on the outside but it was just a normal pencil, with a not-really-lead-but-graphite inside.
The rain started hitting the windows so hard I thought it was hailstones, and when I looked towards the window I took the opportunity to look sideways to see what she was wearing, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that she had moved to the seat in the opposite corner of the room. I wished I could move as well but I worried it would look like following her. I didn’t know why I cared what she thought, but I didn’t want to upset her. I put my head back to where it was, and tried properly to go to sleep this time.
The noise started a few minutes, or possibly longer, after I went to sleep. The siren-type thing was annoying more than worrying, but I saw the curly-haired woman hurrying out of my dad’s room with panic on her face. It was a fire warning, I assumed, and probably a false alarm. I got up at exactly the same time as the girl as everyone began walking out, and we both got caught up in a crowd of people from other rooms in the building. I heard my dad telling someone to calm down but didn’t hear him after that. I could have sworn I heard the girl’s ghost-voice again, but I assumed it wasn’t to me.
The garden was freezing outside, even when I was surrounded by a moving crowd. The words “false alarm” got through the crowd quickly enough, and people left the garden bit by bit. I stayed, knowing I’d be going home soon anyway so I stayed. When there were only a few stragglers yet to go back inside, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“You dropped the blue pencil,” the girl from the waiting room said. “I tried to tell you but you ignored me, and I didn’t pick it up so it’s still inside.” She smiled but looked wary of me when I looked at her to see what she was wearing. It was a blue t-shirt, lighter blue than the pencil.
“What colour is that? What's it called, I mean?” I asked, and she squinted at me for a short while to see if I’d explain my question. I didn't really understand why I wanted the name either.
“Cornflower, I think. I hate blue, but people stare at me less when I wear it,” she answered. I thought about questioning her, but she seemed to make more sense than I would have assumed. It would look acceptable on the walls, that colour. The real walls and my ones.
“Cornflower. Thanks.”
“Mrs. Marion, you can come into my office in just a minute. You can go inside now if you would prefer, I just need to speak to my daughter.” He leant over to me slightly and I saw the girl two seats away from me look up from the book she was holding. I always felt terrible for thinking it, but I was scared of her expression. It was too nervous, as if she knew of some terrible emergency but the rest of us hadn’t even heard the alarm.
“Are you alright here? We’ll be going home in around another half an hour, and you have your drawing to keep you occupied. You said you were drawing it as a blue room, didn’t you? Pick out a nice shade of blue.” He smiled, for some reason talking as if I was a very small child- I hoped he didn’t talk to the waiting room people that way.
“And stop staring at me,” said the girl. I wasn’t expecting her to speak, and she said it so quietly I thought I had imagined it. My father looked around but, oddly enough seeing as he spent so much time listening to people, he hadn’t heard her at all. I would have thought it was a ghost if I believed in them. I felt as nervous as she looked.
I drew boring lines in a copy I had that were meant to be the room’s walls. A nice shade of blue… people in the room tended to wear blue, less like the tranquil blue the woman was thinking of but more like the phrase “feeling blue”. I had a feeling the girl was wearing blue, but I didn’t want to look at her in case she thought I was staring.
I closed my eyes and put my head sideways as if I was trying to sleep. For some reason the darkness when I closed my eyes looked slightly purple. I wished it was blue, just to give me some idea of a “nice shade of blue”. The only shade of blue I could think of by its name was cyan. It was a bright blue as far as I could remember, the kind that children coloured in the sea with in drawings. Cerulean was another name I knew but I couldn’t picture it, as hard as I tried. Blue was my favourite colour when I was younger, but somehow I seemed to have grown out of it. I hadn’t noticed until now. The pencil I had was blue on the outside but it was just a normal pencil, with a not-really-lead-but-graphite inside.
The rain started hitting the windows so hard I thought it was hailstones, and when I looked towards the window I took the opportunity to look sideways to see what she was wearing, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that she had moved to the seat in the opposite corner of the room. I wished I could move as well but I worried it would look like following her. I didn’t know why I cared what she thought, but I didn’t want to upset her. I put my head back to where it was, and tried properly to go to sleep this time.
The noise started a few minutes, or possibly longer, after I went to sleep. The siren-type thing was annoying more than worrying, but I saw the curly-haired woman hurrying out of my dad’s room with panic on her face. It was a fire warning, I assumed, and probably a false alarm. I got up at exactly the same time as the girl as everyone began walking out, and we both got caught up in a crowd of people from other rooms in the building. I heard my dad telling someone to calm down but didn’t hear him after that. I could have sworn I heard the girl’s ghost-voice again, but I assumed it wasn’t to me.
The garden was freezing outside, even when I was surrounded by a moving crowd. The words “false alarm” got through the crowd quickly enough, and people left the garden bit by bit. I stayed, knowing I’d be going home soon anyway so I stayed. When there were only a few stragglers yet to go back inside, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“You dropped the blue pencil,” the girl from the waiting room said. “I tried to tell you but you ignored me, and I didn’t pick it up so it’s still inside.” She smiled but looked wary of me when I looked at her to see what she was wearing. It was a blue t-shirt, lighter blue than the pencil.
“What colour is that? What's it called, I mean?” I asked, and she squinted at me for a short while to see if I’d explain my question. I didn't really understand why I wanted the name either.
“Cornflower, I think. I hate blue, but people stare at me less when I wear it,” she answered. I thought about questioning her, but she seemed to make more sense than I would have assumed. It would look acceptable on the walls, that colour. The real walls and my ones.
“Cornflower. Thanks.”