The Color of Silence Page 21

  “I talked to someone else for a while too. A girl I met…had to meet…a friend. Someone I tried to help. Kind of like you helped me. Well, actually not much like the way you helped me. Actually, completely different. Anyway, the thing is, she ended up helping me instead. Her social skills were a lot better than mine. Mine still pretty much suck—worse than ever since you left. Since you left. Stupid. That makes it sound like you went off on a trip or away to school or something. People do that, you know. Pretend that death isn’t real by calling it something else. Passed away. Moved on. Taken to heaven. I heard all those after you died.”

  My voice cracks on the last word. The crack spreads through my whole body until I feel like I’m going to crumble into so many pieces that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put me back together. My legs go first, and I slump to the ground. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, trying to hold myself together. I lean my head against the pink stone. It’s cold against my cheek.

  “How can you be dead? How can you be sitting beside me singing one second and then just gone? How can we disappear so easily? I don’t understand. You never hurt anyone. You weren’t a bad person. Why did you have to go away? Go away. Not go away. Die. Why did you have to die?”

  Stupid question because I know the answer. I risk moving one of my arms to rub my face. I’m surprised that it’s wet. I’m crying again without even knowing I’m doing it. Seriously losing it.

  “It’s a stupid question, right? We both know why you died. I screwed up, right? Even though my dad says it wasn’t really my fault, at least not totally, you and I know I should have made it different—somehow. Right? Stuck by you like I promised. Stopped you or driven the car myself. Then you wouldn’t be dead. Right?”

  I stare at the stone, waiting for it to answer me. The pink teddy bear grins at me silently. His little pink eyes and silly pink smiley mouth seem to be mocking me, which pisses me off.

  “Why were we so stupid? Why did you take off on me and end up with Matt’s keys? Why did I let you? What the hell were you thinking? We didn’t need to take some stupid guy’s car to get a stupid cup of stupid coffee! We were so, so stupid. And your teddy bear is stupid too.”

  I wipe the back of my hand over my nose, which makes my hand disgusting, so I wipe it on my pants. Cali would be completely grossed out. “What am I going to do now? They want me to go back to school. How can I go back to school and face everyone? How can I go back without you?”

  If this was one of those movies that Cali hates, the ghost of the dead person would suddenly appear and say wise and encouraging things that make the crying mess of a person feel better. Then the mess of a person would stop making a mess of everything and get up and say good-bye in a tear-jerking and pathetic way as the ghost fades away and the closing credits start to roll.

  “If you did come and talk to me, it wouldn’t be all soft and mushy like in the movies, would it? I bet you’d tell me to shut up and stop feeling sorry for myself. To get my butt back to school and get on with my life and all that crap. To stop worrying about what other people think and just worry about myself—like you already said to me about a million times. Right?”

  I sit and wait. I don’t know for what. I know this isn’t a movie. Her ghost isn’t going to come and talk to me, but I still wait. I’m sniffing still, but the tears have finally stopped, at least for the moment.

  “I really wish you could come back, just for a second, and tell me that. Just be one of those movie ghosts. Just for a second. Be a star. The great Calliope. Or just be you and fix me like you always do. It’s your job. You can’t stop just because you’re dead. Please, Cali?”

  I shake my head at my own words and close my mouth.

  I know she isn’t going to come, but I keep on sitting there anyway.

  “My dad asked me if I thought you were mad at me for letting you drive. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have driven the car for you. I am so so so so sorry.”

  Sorry. That word again. Only I really mean it. I’m so sorry. I want her to know how sorry I am.

  I want her to tell me it’s OK. That she forgives me. That I’m going to be OK.

  I don’t know how long I sit waiting for nothing, but eventually my legs start to cramp up, and I realize I’ve lost feeling in one of my feet. I force myself to stand up.

  “I guess I should go. I don’t know if you can hear me.

  I don’t know where you are. I don’t know if you’re anywhere. But just in case…”

  I stand there looking at her pink name engraved for all time on her pink stone under her pink teddy bear. My eyes start to fill again, but I tell them to stop being such babies.

  I stand for another minute, trying to find Cali in all of the pinkness. I look around to make sure I’m alone and then close my eyes. I take a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.

  And for the first time in almost a year, I get ready to sing.

  I had thought of singing the recital song that I never got a chance to perform, but I can’t remember the words. I guess I could do a little watermeloning, but that’s always been Cali’s trick, not mine.

  There is one other song I could try.

  I put my hand in my pocket, feeling the cool smoothness of Joanie’s gift as I take another deep breath and start singing a rainbow to my friends.

  My voice is soft and rusty in the pink silence, and I’m glad that there are only birds around to hear me.

  Although, if Cali were here, she’d probably tell me I sound très sexy. And if Joanie were here, she’d smile and dance to the music with her eyes.

  I wonder if Joanie and Cali might be together somewhere, sharing things that I don’t understand. If either of them is watching, they likely think I’m completely out of my mind for standing alone in a graveyard, singing about rainbows to a shiny pink stone.

  As I finish the song, I swear I can hear someone laughing…

  Maybe two someones.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to once again thank Margie Wolfe, Carolyn Jackson, and all of the other wonderful staff members at Second Story Press. Your unfailing support and patience is greatly appreciated.

  My amazing editor, Alison Kooistra—you have once again managed to take my swirling mass of words and redirect them into a story that makes sense. Your passionate involvement in the development of my characters makes me feel as if we are both walking around inside their lives.

  I also want to acknowledge all the wonderful speech therapists at the Upper Canada District School Board who have helped so many of my students find their words.

  And finally, a word of thanks to all of those families who have been both brave and kind enough to share their personal journeys with Eye Gaze Technology on the Internet so that the world can see all of the wonderful advancements that are being made in helping everyone find a voice that others can understand.

  About the Author

  Liane Shaw worked in the field of education for twenty-five years, including several years spent working in alternative educational settings. Now retired, she lives on a 200-acre wildlife sanctuary in eastern Ontario, where she spends her time writing, editing, and looking after animals.