Colors (19 page)

“Well, we’re not lost anymore.” I laugh with him. “We’ve found each other. We may be two screwed-up messes, but at least we’ve got each other.”

Our eyes lock, light up, and we burst into the song: “Together wherever we go!”

Serendipity, they call it—both thinking of the song from
Gypsy
at the same time.

This having a friend thing is awesome.

Text Messaging: Zane and Cara

Zane:
making progress, babe

Cara:
progress?

Zane:
with neil

Cara:
curly’s coming out?

Zane:
yeah

Cara:
how do you know?

Zane:
lunch today… he said, ‘we have each other’

Cara:
wat’s that supposed to mean?

Zane:
we connected. i told him about my sucky family

Cara:
WHOA… daddy and mommy can be scary

Zane:
yeah. but neil understood

Cara:
how sweet

Zane:
keep your fingers crossed

Cara:
i will. how’s show?

Zane:
great. luv jud

Cara:
made for you

Zane:
and gypsy?

Cara:
packing them in

Zane:
marvelous, chita, dear. daddy seize when he saw u strip?

Cara:
u no it. i can handle him. sweet talk. he melts. daddy’s little girl, u no

Zane:
wish he’d give on the webcam

Cara:
i pick my battles, babe

Zane:
miss seeing u, gorgeous

Cara:
was gonna surprise u. coming to see Oklahoma

Zane:
best news of my life, ethel

Cara:
thought u’d like it. look for me front and center

Zane:
i’ll play just to u. now, wat’s next at carnival?

Cara:
wildcat. the old lucille ball show

Zane:
who’d they get for it?

Cara:
daughter from the old roseanne show

Zane:
sarah?

Cara:
other one. the one who fell into obscurity

Zane:
figures. a role for you?

Cara:
wildcat’s sister, janey… sweet and innocent

Zane:
perfect

Cara:
why—your so nice, sweetie pie

Zane:
i know… gotta go… homework

Cara:
bye, z

Zane:
luv ya

Cara:
luv ya, 2

Z
ANE
’
S
HOUSE
is a far cry from the little two-bedroom cottage I share with Aunt Jenny. This place is a mansion.

“Make yourself at home,” Zane says as we come through the back door and stop in the kitchen. “Phone’s on the wall over there, if you want to call your aunt. Sorry my cell was dead.”

“Aren’t we a pair? Your phone’s dead; I left mine at home. You’d think I’d remember to carry it. I fought hard enough to get it. Aunt Jenny says cell phones are evil, they disrupt serenity, and people are rude, taking calls in public places. And don’t get her started on texting while driving.”

“Your aunt’s a trip. You’re lucky, having someone in your life who is so passionate.” Zane uses the word like it is always on the tip of his tongue. Talented and intelligent. Perfect package. “But I doubt you had to fight very hard. That woman would do anything for you.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Aunt Jenny can be a pain sometimes too.”

“Look, guy. Your aunt may be a pain, but it’s a good pain. Be thankful, you don’t have my folks.”

He doesn’t add more, and I let it lie.

I grab the phone. “Well, the pain will be wondering where I am.” I punch in our number and get the machine. I leave a message for Aunt Jenny.

“Not home, huh?”

“Nah. She’s probably out with Kris.”

“Who’s Kris? I didn’t know your aunt had a boyfriend.”

I laugh. “No, no, no. Kris is a woman, old friend of Aunt Jenny’s. They just reconnected, and they are thick as thieves, as my aunt would say.”

“Reconnected?”

I’m not sure how much of the story I want to share, especially since I know so little, so I just add, “Yeah. Went to high school together, I gather. Hadn’t seen each other for years until Kris showed up at the craft show we went to a few weeks ago.”

“And now they’re seeing a lot of each other?” Is that a smirk on Zane’s face? No, it can’t be. He doesn’t even know Aunt Jenny.

“I guess they used to be best friends or something. Anyway, I’m just glad Aunt Jenny has someone besides me in her life. I’ll be going off to MTM in a few months. It’s good to know my aunt won’t be alone here.” I’m almost tearing up here, but Zane, ever changing, doesn’t notice.

“That was some rehearsal. Novak worked our tails off.” Zane is rummaging in the refrigerator. The bottomless pit is no doubt foraging for a snack. “How about some cheese and crackers?”

“That’d be great.” I stretch. “I’m whipped. And can you believe he wants the whole thing memorized by tomorrow? ‘Pore Jud’ is a long song, plus there’s the dialogue too. I’ve never worked with a director who started a scene on one day, then expected it perfect the next.”

“Yeah, Novak’s a real ballbreaker. But it’s good to know he has so much faith in us he wants to use us as an example for the whole cast.” Zane slices cheese and deposits it onto a plate.

I imitate Mr. Novak. “‘
I want to show the full cast at tomorrow’s rehearsal what a little hard work can accomplish
….’ Meanwhile, we’ve got to bust our butts to get the thing learned.”

“Get over it, Neil. Grow a pair.” Zane’s words are hurtful, his tone is not. I suddenly realize
who
he is doing.

“Satine, right?”

He twists his Satine lips into the exact imitation of her pushy style. “If the man believes in you, then don’t let him down. Be the few, the proud.”

I start to laugh, Zane cracks up, and we guffaw for almost a full minute.

“I love it when she launches into her Marine self.” I do my own Satine impression—“Soldier on, recruit!”—but I’m not as good as Zane. He has the advantage of having those luscious Satine lips.

More laughter, then Zane turns serious.

“We’re pros. We can do it!”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Carnival Dinner Theater.”

“And a full scholarship to MusicTheatreMidwest counts for zilch?” Zane piles crackers on the plate with the cheese. “Just go relax a minute before we run lines. The living room is through there.” He indicates a hallway. “Get comfortable while I get us some drinks. Diet Cokes all right?”

“Does a pig like slop?”

“Huh?” Zane’s mouth gapes open.

“Just an Aunt Jennyism.”

“Gotta love her,” he says, turning to pull a couple of drinks from the fridge.

I nod and go through the hallway. It feels great to have someone else appreciate Aunt Jenny as much as I do.

The living room is gigantic. Our whole house would fit in here. The room is painted a pale orangey color, kind of a flowerpot color. A ginormous, curving solid white couch fills up about two-thirds of the space. It faces a fireplace that is probably fifteen feet tall. On either side of the fireplace are two enormous stained glass windows. The late afternoon sun shines through them, dappling the couch with spots of color….

My knees buckle. Trembles. Sweat. Dizzy.

What the…? I thought I was over this.

A fleeting thought as I sink into the couch, totally collapsing. I rest my swimming head on the back of it and close my eyes. Feeling my head swirl and my stomach churn, I pop my eyes back open. Funny how you think closing your eyes can black out everything, when it just makes things worse.

I grasp at something—anything—to take my mind off the colors. I cling to the crunch, crunch sound of the ice crusher in the refrigerator door.

“What do you think of those windows?” Zane calls from the kitchen. “My mom bought them from some church that was being torn down. It’s like living at St. Stephen’s. Makes you want to fall down and cry,
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned
.” Zane laughs. “I couldn’t find any Diet Coke,” he shouts. “I guess we’re out. There are some lemons here. I’m making us some lemonade with crushed ice. You know, lemons are good for the throat….”

I focus on Zane’s voice. Lemonade. Good. I like lemonade. Anything to keep my mind off the colors…. Good for the throat….

“I once worked with an actress who had to have bowls of lemon slices all over backstage,” Zane continues. I hang on every word of his inane banter.

Actress… bowls of lemon… backstage….

“Carnival had me helping out with props on that show. My job was to slice all those lemons.”

Slice all those lemons…. Stupid, but it’s working. No
little secrets
come into my brain, only the threat of their journey. I think I’ve conquered my problem.

I take a deep breath and slowly expel the air. The tension begins to release.

I’ll be fine now. I guess I’m just tired. Fatigue can do that to you. Make things seem bigger than they are.

“…the way the sun shines through the windows at this time of day is amazing.” I catch the tail end of what Zane is saying from the kitchen.

Sun shines through the windows….
It’s revving up again. Damn it to holy hell. No, I won’t look at them. I look down, but the colors stain the white couch. Red, green, blue….

I try looking up. The colors are everywhere, invading the room, invading me. I try to look away from the windows, but the colors ensnare me. They won’t let go. Clutching me, strangling me.

You won’t tell anyone our little secret, Neil, because you like it.

With the back of my hand, I swipe the sweat pouring from my brow.

Why do the colors bother me here when they didn’t at the Church last Sunday? The church back home was where Brother Gramm started all this. But I’m beginning to get comfortable at Shelton Road. I still can’t walk through the foyer at school, but I can sing at the Church of Shelton Road. Why? The opening phrase of “Suffer” creeps into my thoughts.

Maybe it’s the music.

“Suffer the little children,”
I murmur,
“when the world forgets them….”

But not even the music is helping me now. My heart pounds. It’s almost bursting my skin.

Purple, yellow
…. Stay away from me. Don’t, Brother Gramm.

I will myself immobile, rigid, waiting for what I know will happen.

Green, orange….

I feel something… a gentle tugging.

“Leave me alone, Brother Gramm.”
Palpitations.
“Just please let me out of here. I don’t want you touching me.”

If I just lie here still, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Concentrate on the colors….

I stare straight ahead at the colors, my body frozen, not moving.

That blue… it’s like the ocean… the waves are carrying me away from here….

I feel fingertips move up and down my arm.

Please, God, make him go away
, I silently groan.

Yellow… it’s bright sunshine… I feel the warmth… it’s so nice….

“Brother Gramm, no. Please!”

Purple… like the velvet of our living room pillows… so soft….

“Stop, Brother Gramm, stop!”

But he never stops. The touching, the mouth on my…. Help me, Lord, please.

My eyes fixate on the colors, waiting for it to end.

Watch the colors, Neil. Just watch the colors until he quits.

Hot breath cascades onto my face as lips close in on mine.

“You’ve never kissed me before, Brother Gramm….”

“No!” Panic. My eyes focus on the preacher.

But it’s not the predator I see.

“
Zane
?”

R
AT
-
TAT
-
TAT
-
TAT
-
TAT
. M
Y
eyes jump open. I have no idea where I am, what is happening. Then I hear her. I’m in my bed, startled after a night of tossing and turning.

“Neil. Are you okay in there?”

I turtle myself with the covers.

“Neil, open this door.”

“Go away, Aunt Jenny. I’m okay. Just leave me alone.”

“I will not go away until you unlock this door, Neil.” The tone of Aunt Jenny’s voice says she means business.

I growl, then throw the covers off my body, go to the door, and turn the lock. I’m not a happy camper.

“There,” I spit, “it’s unlocked. Satisfied?”

The door swings open.

“No—I’m not satisfied.” Aunt Jenny bounds into the room. “What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?”

“I told you I’m okay.” I climb back into bed and once again cocoon myself. “Please go away.” But she is unfazed by my muffled plea.

My body is rattled as she jerks the covers away.

“I will not go away until I know what is happening here. You are already late for school.”

I lie there, silent, eyes half closed.

“Obviously something is bugging you. What gives?”

There is nothing like a persistent Aunt Jenny. She’s like a pit bull after a Chihuahua.

I stare at her, but only because I know she’s not buying the “sleepy” routine. There is no way I’m going to tell her about Zane and last night. That would just be
sweet
. I have a gay aunt, and I’m freaking out over Zane making a pass at me. But only because it thrust me back to a time Aunt Jenny doesn’t even know about. And doesn’t need to know about. No, I can’t tell her a thing.

“Look,” she says, stepping into her
reasonable
mode, “I’ve never in my life interfered with your moods…. Heck, I’ve never had to. You’ve been the perfect son to me. But if you don’t get up right now and get your butt to school you won’t be able to go to rehearsal this afternoon.”