The Logic of Color

Everything around me is gray including the sidewalks and the sky, the people and the sun. The whole world is now an abandoned coloring book; splotches of color, rare and far between. We all averted our eyes when seeing the few cheerful colors, contradictory to how we felt. I know that the artist in my world is gone forever.

Three years ago, with my senior year in high school going at full swing, I met him. He was already a man; more mature than the other boys in my grade and a mysterious heartthrob from the moment he was spotted. I never introduced myself, always too shy to speak up, and only wondered about who this handsome man could be.

This last year of high school was spent mostly by wishing for him to notice me or initiate conversation, or even to simply run into me in the hallway and help me pick up my books, the way it happens in all those cheesy movies. Nothing like this happened though, and the closest I ever came to him was on the rare occasion the whole school was forced into the auditorium or gym for some sort of pep rally.

Months passed by and by May I still only knew his name, Ian.

“Sarah, come on,” my friend Leslie whined, “come to the cast party with me. You can be my plus one! It will be so much fun, and you can meet all of the cuties… Who knew that my Shakespeare troupe would have so many good looking guys?”

I just looked at her, doubtful that anything good would come of this. Leslie and I were nothing like each other, which is why we made such a good match, I suppose. She was loud, and tough as nails on the exterior, but lived up to many clichés by being the more emotional friend. My best friend sat next to me, poking and prodding until I finally assented.
The party was going strong by the time we arrived at nine, with people milling all over the yard and house, and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of kids did Shakespeare nowadays. Then again, if Leslie was doing it, that explained a lot about what I was seeing now.

“I’ll be right back, ok Sarah? I just need to pee so bad,” Leslie said as she shoved me onto a couch and took off. I knew I probably wouldn’t see her again for at least an hour since she tended to pull stunts like this when she drags me to social events. Not recognizing a single person at the party, I sat where Leslie left me and wondered how anyone could maneuver their way around the packed living room.

This night seemed to be a turning point, a cheesy teen novel and a beautiful nightmare all at once. I was jarred from my thoughts when I felt someone sitting down next to me. I looked over and nearly choked. So much for not recognizing anyone, I thought bitterly.
“Hey, you go to my school, right? Sarah, maybe?” Ian stated more than asked.

It was all I could do to nod my head. Somehow though, from that time on, Ian was always there. Whenever I was talking to one of my friends or teachers or participating in the few school clubs I was part of, he popped up and greeted me. It was like I had suddenly grown a special “Ian sensor” that threw me into his path no matter how much I might have avoided him and the awkward situation sure to follow due to my shy personality. Every time we crossed paths, all I could do was fumble and choke, with my hands sweating, and barely manage to nod in response.

Graduation came all too soon and I knew I was going off to college in the fall, and wouldn’t ever have to see any of these people again. I was glad because I had never made a true connection with anyone but Leslie.

Summer then passed quickly, consisting of long days at work and warm nights spent with Leslie, giggling girlishly at the more scandalous articles in trashy magazines.
When it was time to leave for Freshman Orientation, I was terrified. I’d been excited all summer, but as the time came near, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it. I didn’t want to leave my one true friend and was worried I would not make any new friends one I arrived.

After the first few days passed quickly and with nothing too interesting, merely being made up of a constant struggle to find my way around the large campus and small town with some other freshmen. On my fourth day there, I went to get coffee with a few girls I had met.
“Hey, Splinters, you still haven’t told me the story behind your name,” I mentioned to one of the older girls who was here as a sort of tour guide for us freshmen.

She burst into laughter and threw her long, platinum blonde hair over her shoulder, obviously proud of the story that was sure to be a delight. “Well, it was one of the first nights I was here, freshman year, and there was this party I went to-”

Just as her story was getting to the best part I felt a presence behind me and heard a voice speak. “Sarah? I didn’t know you were going to school here. I would have tried to find you before…”

I turned around to see Ian, and with some strange courage, I spoke my first words to him as though we had been best friends at one time in our lives. “Hey Ian, didn’t expect to see you here. These are my friends, Melissa, Angela, Emily and Splinters,” the girls all waved as I said their names. “Do you, um, want to hang out with us?”

He smiled brilliantly, but with regret in his gray eyes. “I wish I could, but I was just here to get a coffee, and then I have to run. Got some things to do before classes start next week,” he then started fumbling in his pockets, and finally withdrew a pen. Grabbing a napkin he wrote down his information, so we could meet up later.

Somehow, I was (finally) able to function like a normal human being when I was around him, and we grew quite close. Time passed too quickly for my liking and for whatever reason, Ian and I never crossed the romantic bridge I had hoped for all of my senior year in high school. Oddly though, I was happier that way, because I didn’t want to lose the friend I made in him. I didn’t want to make any fatal mistakes.

The decision not to pursue a relationship, however, became my fatal mistake. Ian and I dated other people and grew closer over the next two years. Leslie, who would always remain my best friend, urged me to tell him how I felt, but I never found it necessary. He would always be there - my best friend and love interest - and if it were meant to be, it would be.

Then on a cool night in late April I was headed out to meet Ian and some friends at the local sports bar, known for their amazing wings, when I received a phone call. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered and regretted it almost instantly.

Ian had been in an accident, and I was the first person they were able to reach.
I drove to the hospital as quickly as possible, knowing my way because of the many times Splinters had done something stupid, with us laughing the entire way. This time though, I drove faster and my face was streaked with tears, not caused by the laughter of an idiotic mistake made by my friend, but because of fear and worry.

And I made it. I was there in time for Ian, I held onto him and whispered that I loved him and always would. He held on for a few miserable hours, fighting, fighting for me I’d like to think; and then nothing. He smiled up at me, the first conscious thing he’d done since my arrival and then slipped away.

Today, I’m wearing all black, walking amongst family and friends along the pathways in the cemetery Ian is about to be buried in. The brightly colored flowers and flags, the grass and the birds, are misplaced. Nothing brightly colored makes sense anymore. Only the black cloths enshrouding loved ones and the gray marble of the headstones are slightly logical.