Blue

mmmnI’ve always wanted to live in a blue room. A rich, thick, inviting blue, warmer than navy, but
deep. Engulfing. Blue is such a peaceful color. Violet is too juvenile. Red invokes conflict, and to me,
orange invokes nausea. Yellow is too happy and there’s plenty of green outside. I want blue inside.
mmmnDad called a few nights ago. We were both pretty down. I was back at school for the fall because
he wouldn’t let me take the year off to be home with him. “I know you. You’ll get all bummed out and
won’t admit it, so you’ll just sit at home brooding about how you’re not bummed out and you’ll bum me
out,” he had said. We kept in contact as much as possible over the phone. Thank God for cell phones. I
didn’t thank God for other things, but cell phones yes. The year had gotten off to an expectedly rocky
start. I had spent so much time sitting around the hospital over the summer I hadn’t been able to practice
my cello and I was placed in a lower orchestra than last year, Fen and I had all but broken up because he
was so freaked out by my mood swings, and I was just trying to hang on. Out of the blue, Dad said, “I’m
coming up this weekend.”
mmmn“Doesn’t Mom have a Saturday shift at the hospital? Can she switch it?” I asked.
mmmn“She can still work. I’m coming up on my own,” he replied. I began again to object but he said,
“Lill…,” in that certain Dad way and I knew the discussion was over. “We both need it,” he sort of
whispered.
mmmnDad always seemed to get his way, like an outlaw. He had a smile like moonshine and the dark
gap between his two front teeth made the rest of them sparkle like stars on an open range. He was a quick
trick shooter, always hiding something, always something up his sleeve. And his laugh just engulfed you.
It was deeper than a chuckle and warmer than a guffaw—a rumbling of the soul with giant peaks like
the whites of crashing waves. You could get lost. He always said the louder you laugh the better it feels. If I
could laugh more these days, I’d probably drink less.
mmmnWhen I got home, Melissa was blaring Pink Floyd and John was on the couch reading one of my
Cosmos. I plopped my backpack on the floor and opened the fridge. “Learning anything about the delicate
female mind?” I asked.
mmmn“Nope, but quite a lot about the delicate female body,” he replied. Melissa had turned off the
music at just the right time to hear his response ring out.
mmmn“John!” she blared louder than the base boost, with those nasty eyes she got so easily, be it from
drinking her Coca-Cola or stealing her car. She had two levels, on and off.
mmmn“I’m just teasing, babe. Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he smirked as he yelled out.
mmmn“Jerk,” she intoned, returning to her bedroom.
mmmn“You still won’t come with us this weekend?” John asked.
mmmn“Can’t. My dad’s coming up tomorrow. We’re going to paint my room.” We had decided sitting
around mopping wouldn’t be good for either of us, and Dad wanted to get out his old work stuff. He
hadn’t touched it in over a year.
mmmn“Sweet! How is your dad?” John asked.
mmmn“Fine,” I lied.
mmmnMelissa’s arms were loaded with camping gear as she walked over to me. “Ok, Molly—I should
be back Sunday night or so. Thanks for letting me use your cooler. We’re going to need it—it’s supposed
to be even more humid this weekend.” Great. It just hit me that in order to avoid death by fumes, we have
to accept death by suffocating heat with the windows open all day. Good plan to redecorate in Indiana’s
late September. And it wasn’t even necessary. We were just avoiding staring at each other and crying all
day. Not to mention Dad’s meds messed up his sleeping so he was always up by five or so and as
Louisville was only a two hour drive, we’d get started way too early. Nothing like being broiling hot,
exhausted and depressed all in the same day.
mmmn“Well, stay cool and don’t get too trashed at Spring Mill,” I advised.
mmmn“I’ll try,” she smiled.
mmmnIn the background we heard John sneer, “Yeah, right.”
mmmn“What was that from the peanut gallery? You. Shut it.” She was a drill sergeant of a girlfriend.
Maybe if I was more of a jerk, I’d be irresistible. Melissa turned to me and asked in a quiet voice I hadn’t
heard since we were just friends, not roommates, “You going to be ok?”
mmmn“Of course. It’ll be great.” I looked back in the fridge so she couldn’t see my eyes. She waited a
moment then placed her hand lightly on my back. How was it that she could be so cold and then so warm?
She turned to pick up her duffle, backpack and cooler.
mmmn“Oh, I forgot. Fen left a message for you,” Melissa added.
mmmn“On the home phone?” I questioned.
mmmn“Yeah, I thought that was weird too. Anyway, good luck with that,” she said as she trotted out the
door, John in tow. He waddled behind with her sleeping bag and pillow.
mmmn“See you later,” he said in that awkward roommate boyfriend tone. I laughed.
mmmn“Have fun.” I poured myself a Big Gulp of White Zin and wished it were Monday.
mmmnI woke up to my phone’s muffled buzz. I stumbled from the couch toward the noise coming from
my purse where I had dropped it the night before. Why was I in the living room? My bloated, dull hands
clumsily excavated my bag for the lost, ouch, loud treasure. Why was the TV still on? My mouth was dry
and stuck to itself. I didn’t even bother to clear my throat. “Hello?” I managed to spit out.
mmmn “Hey Buck, just waking up?” Dad’s lively morning voice was on the other line.
mmmn “Nah, been up for hours. Room’s done. Go home,” I croaked.
mmmn“So, can I do the trim?” He could always make me laugh, especially in the mornings. It was his
secret weapon when he would wake me up for school as a child. I heard a familiar rumbling in the
background.
mmmn “Are you in the truck?” I asked.
mmmn “Sure am!” he declared proudly. My mind flooded with memories of the times we spent together
in that dirty green truck, going on painting jobs, fishing trips, dropping me off at summer camp. Mom
hated the old rusty monster, but Dad loved it and I sure used to, before I had to get dropped off for school
in it.
mmmn “I thought they told you not to drive it anymore. The engine could give out at anytime,” I said.
mmmn “They’ve been saying that since our trip to Tennessee,” he replied.
mmmn “But Dad, that was ten years ago.”
mmmn “They were wrong then, and they’ll be wrong now,” he stated. I sighed. Outlaw. “Anyway, I’m
north of Indy, thought I’d give you a heads up. Want anything?” he asked.
mmmn “Like a Mustang?” I responded.
mmmn “Like McDonalds.”
mmmn “Ew, grease in the morning. No.”
mmmn “Well that’s your choice, but you can’t play with my Happy Meal toy.”
mmmn I staggered to the bathroom and didn’t look at myself in the mirror. I vaguely remembered
opening a second box-o-wine and something about stealing some of Melissa’s whiskey. Why did I do
that, the night before Dad was coming up? Damn. I got into the shower and let the hot water plummet my
head for a while. Wash it away, wash it away. Usually I had a blankness of feeling in the morning, a
dullness that absorbed life’s shrill reality. I felt nothing in the mornings and recently, feeling nothing
meant feeling great.
mmmnDad buzzed up a little after eight. His arms were full of his old paintbrushes, buckets, tape and
even a stepladder. “Bucko!” he said as he put down his things. “So great to see you!”
mmmn“You too, Dad,” I squeezed out as he tried to bear hug me. He was even thinner and more gaunt
than he was a month ago. He took off his cowboy hat to reveal a fully bald head.
mmmn“Hey, liking the new look you got there,” I managed to say.
mmmn“Just call me Gandhi,” he quipped. He looked at me deeply. “You’re eyes are all red, are you
getting enough sleep?” he asked.
mmmn“It’s college, Dad, of course I’m not getting enough sleep.” I quickly looked away, embarrassed. I
retreated to the corner where the paint cans were hanging around like gang members. I showed Dad the
color I had chosen.
mmmn“Wow! Almost looks black in the can,” he said. I must have managed to move my things into the
hallway before I blacked out last night because we were tripping all over my stuff. We made it to my
bedroom where we were greeted by my bed, floating in the middle of the room like a life raft. We started
right up, putting on his old work outfits, covering my life’s cargo with plastic and opening up the
windows wide. It was already hot, and it had only been light for an hour. We were really in for it. “Mom
sent up snicker doodles,” he said. Thank God for snicker doodles. Cell phones and snicker doodles, but
the list ended there. “It’s great you got your stuff out of the way, we can just dive right in,” he said.
“Ready?”
mmmn“Totally,” I whispered with a mini shudder. We dipped our rolling brushes deeply in the paint,
blotted off the extra and let the wall have it. The blue exploded onto the white. It felt exhilaratingly
ridiculous. I had to take a huge breath. “Wow. This color was so blue, it’s scary.”
mmmn“Engulfing,” Dad said. I got chills through my arms up into my chest and regretted the whole
thing. I had said that was what I wanted, but now that I had it… Like running away as a little girl, getting
a tattoo, or making love, you want it so badly and then you get it, and oh man, what did you just do?
mmmnBut luckily, the fright passed as easily as it came; the hurricane watch didn’t turn into a warning.
“This is pretty cool, Molls,” even Dad said.
mmmnWe painted for a while before I asked, “How’s everybody doing at home?”
mmmn“Well, Wally’s won all but one of his tennis matches so far and I think Tuck’s going to be co-
captain of the junior high Science Olympiad team. And you won’t believe this, but Mom’s learning how
to check all the fluids in her car and has started to try to balance the checkbook on her own.” The look in
Dad’s eyes reminded me that both were jobs Dad prided himself on taking care of for all of us. We were
getting dangerously close to the eye of the storm, so I quickly changed the subject.
mmmn“Oh, I forgot, I just bought a Billy Joel’s greatest hits CD. Wanna listen?” I asked.
mmmnI think Dad got a little caught off guard, but he did say, “If you want to, sure.”
mmmnI went out into the living room, fumbled around our messy music collection and set the CD player
up in the hall bathroom to keep it from turning a speckled blue. I grew up listening to Billy Joel and one
of my favorite memories was of Dad spinning me around the room with the music blaring. I distinctly
remember wearing my favorite yellow dress and the sound of Mom’s laughter topping the music. “Piano
Man” rang out as I walked back into the room. Sweat was gathering on Dad’s upper lip as he began to
whistle. He was an expert whistler. I looked around with new eyes and saw the blue beginning to take
over the room. I picked up my roller and began again. The music passed the time. And it was good to be
together, without having to think about being together.
mmmn I was lost in painting when a loud buzz interrupted the silence between songs. I walked into the
living room and hit the intercom button. “Hello?”
mmmn “Hey, Molly, it’s Fen. Can I come up?” the muffled voice said.
mmmn “Uh, ok,” I said hesitantly and hit the entrance button. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since our
last little scuffle, like Wednesday of the week before. I peaked into the mirror near the door, brushed the
sweat off of my face and straightened my workman’s coverall as to appear more attractive to the male
eye. Nice try. There was a knock on the door. I waited a few seconds then opened. “Hi,” I said firmly.
mmmn “Hey,” he said with a chuckle. “You have paint on your face.”
mmmn “Yes, I do. Is there something wrong with that?” I retorted seriously.
mmmn “No. Why do you have paint on your face?” he asked.
mmmn “I’m painting.”
mmmn “Well, that’s a good enough reason, I guess.” He smiled so cutely and I internally pouted that I
couldn’t just give him a hug and be over with the whole mess. But that’s not how it works.
mmmn “What do you want?” I almost snapped at him.
mmmn “Well, if you put it that way, I think I left my history book over here.” His eyes hardened.
mmmn “Oh. Well, its pretty messy, but you can look around.” I opened the door. He walked into the
room, wearing that horrible, orange shirt he loved so much, and the air brushed passed me filled with his
familiar smell. Why was that comforting? The music turned off and I saw Dad sort of creep back into the
bedroom. I went in there with a sigh and said, “You can come out. I guess I get to introduce you to
someone.”
mmmn We walked back into the living room as Fen was scrounging around the dinning room table.
“Hey, Fen, I want you to meet my father.”
mmmnHe turned around quickly, taken aback. He stood almost frozen for a second then jerked forward.
“Sure, pleased to meet you, Sir.” He put out his hand.
mmmn “Dad, this is Fen,” I said as they walked towards each other.
mmmn “Well, well, well. Great to finally meet you. Heard about you all summer from Molly.” I turned
red and glanced away a bit. Fen tried to choke down something and responded with a grunt of some sort.
“I hear you’re from Boston,” Dad said with a laugh.
mmmn “The name sort of gives it way, Sir. Fenway. Parents are big fans.”
mmmn“So you just got back from Europe, isn’t that right?” Dad asked.
mmmn“Yes, Sir. Was in Italy for three weeks, and London for one,” he replied. I walked into the kitchen
to get us some drinks as it was uncomfortably hot and by the look in Dad’s eye, I imagined we’d be here
for a while. Dad loved meeting my friends; had talked about them all summer. I was always hesitant to
bring boys home because the first few times he grilled them so hard they’d broken up with me the next
day. I figured this couldn’t do much harm, as Fen was probably going to break up with me anyway. I
went to my cabinet to get some Cokes and opened the freezer for ice. All of the trays were empty.
“Melissa! Unbelievable!” I groaned.
mmmn“What?” Dad called out. I flipped the tray upside down and glared. “Oh, roommates,” he said.
mmmn“All I have is Coke, and it’s been out all day. That’s disgusting,” I said.
mmmn“Oh, it’s ok,” Dad said to Fen. “They don’t even have ice in Italy. You’re used to it.”
mmmn“Sure am,” Fen chimed in. Well, weren’t they just hitting it off? I shrugged and brought three
warm Cokes into the living room. We cracked them open.
mmmn“You taking good care of my daughter up here?” Fen almost spit out his drink.
mmmn“Dad!” I shot at him.
mmmn“I was just asking. A father wants to know his daughter’s in good hands when he can’t be
around.” Dad shook his head like he had every right in the world to get a good answer.
mmmnFen straightened up a bit and said, “I’d like to think I’m trying, sir.” That was a surprise.
mmmn“I guess that’s as much as I can ask for. It’s all I ever did. And she is a handful,” his smile shone
out and I glared at him. His phone rang in the background. “Saved by the bell, now aren’t you?” he
laughed again as he trotted off. “Great to meet you, Fen!”
mmmn“I can’t believe that just happened,” I said as I looked down at the ground.
mmmn“Yeah,” Fen said, smiling.
mmmn“Well. Yeah.” I had nothing. We drank our gross Cokes quietly for a while. We could hear Dad
crooning to Mom in the background. Fen broke our silence.
mmmn“Molly, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I don’t know what you’re going through. If it were my
father, I probably wouldn’t be able to get out of bed, let alone—” he cut himself off and kicked some
invisible object on the ground. “I care about you, it’s just really hard when you snap at me.”
mmmn“I don’t mean to. Sometimes, I just get really lost,” I confessed.
mmmn“Then you just gotta talk to me, ok?” he sighed. “I can’t even try to help if you won’t let me.”
mmmn“It’s just not easy for me, ok?” I shrugged.
mmmn“It’s not about easy,” he said softly. I looked away. He touched my hand lightly.
mmmn“Did you get your book?” I asked.
mmmn“Nah, I’ll come by to get it tomorrow, ok?” he said as he moved toward door.
mmmn“Ok,” I answered. A premature wave of nervousness flashed through me, but I tried to smile as he
walked out. I closed the door and turned around. Damn. I walked into the bedroom where Dad had one
hand on the cell phone and was painting with the other.
mmmn“Hey, Molls is here, you wanna talk to her?” he said as he handed me the phone.
mmmn“Hi Mom,” I said reluctantly as I walked back into the living room.
mmmn“Hi honey, how’s Fen?” she asked
mmmn“Fine,” I lied.
mmmn“Well, that’s good. Dad says the room is really coming along, only half the main wall to go.”
mmmn“Yeah, you should see this color,” I humored her.
mmmn“You won’t believe who I ran into this morning!” How she could be so happy, I’d never know.
“Mr. Miller from Violet’s Diner, do you remember him?”
mmmn“Vaguely. I remember the stories more.” It was family folklore how when I was a baby, Dad
would take me to Violet’s and show me off. People would always say how I had my father’s big, blue
eyes. The diner burned down when I was about three. It was arson. The Millers never pressed charges
because they were almost sure it was their son. They never rebuilt the place.
mmmn“His wife died of cancer a couple years ago. We had a lot to talk about. He gave me the name of a
couple support groups around town,” she said. I couldn’t believe her.
mmmn“Mom, he’s not dead yet,” I snapped.
mmmnThere was silence on the other end of the phone. “Honey, this is my way of preparing,” she said
sternly, almost offended. “You’re going to have a different way, but this is mine.”
mmmn“Sorry,” I said very quietly. I wanted to hug her. Screw art. I wanna go home, I thought.
mmmn “Let me talk to your dad. I love you,” her voice wavered a little. I called to Dad and I went to
wash my hands. I avoided the mirror again. Walking back, I heard my parents speaking lowly as I picked
up a brush. The whiteness of the wall, the untouched future of my life without a father, sneered at me,
glared at me, mocked me. Dad returned and we painted in silence. I stepped back and looked at the room.
“Stop,” I could barely get sound out.
mmmnHe looked over at me with the paintbrush in his hand dangling away from the wall. I stared
foward. “Stop,” I said more forcefully.
mmmn“What?” he asked. My throat locked up and eyes stung. My breath was gone, like I’d fallen from
the monkey bars. I lost my knees. My body tumbled to the ground and he was somehow right there with
me. I tried to breath in but my breath was being sucked out of me, like a wave rushing up the shore, past
the dark line the last wave had drawn on the sand, pushing up the dry land until it reached its peak, that
moment of stillness. “Honey?”
mmmn“Honey” was that moment. The air I had tried so hard to get was now gushing into me, gathering
more speed, sucking everything with it, my hair, my father’s sweat. I gulped it in, chocking on its rushing,
powerful pull. The hot wetness engulfed my eyes like the fresh paint on the walls. But everything looked
red; there was no blue in my world. The next wave hit and crashed and I crashed with it. My body was
shaking and the noises coming out of me weren’t human. The words that I wouldn’t let out were now
escaping masked as sounds. “I don’t, you… why, I want, no Daddy… Daddy,” and then the shaking took
me back over.
mmmnHe held me and rocked me back and forth like a boat as the storm progressed. I slowly let into its
violent sucks and silences. Snot was all over my face and his shirt was drenched in me. I felt something
cold and odd on my scalp. It was his tears dripping through my hair. It scared me to feel the tears of my
rough, tough outlaw father. I wished the agony of this moment would go on forever, because at least we’d
be together. We rocked like a boat that would outlast the storm, but was so badly battered, it’d never
make it home.
mmmnI looked at the wall where the blue paint ended, abruptly. “Just know,” he said very slowly, “that I
love you…” His voice got higher and I was holding him now, rocking him. Holding on.
mmmn“We should get finished with this painting before I have to go,” Dad said as we started to emerge
from our cocoon.
mmmn“No, Dad. I want to leave it like this,” I stated.
mmmnAfter a moment he responded, “Seems appropriate to me.” We stood back and gazed at the glory
and horror of it all.
mmmn“You going to be ok if I get on the road before it gets dark?” Dad asked.
mmmn“Yeah, but you sure? You haven’t gotten much rest recently,” I warned, wiping my face with my
sleeve.
mmmn“Eh, I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
mmmnI jerked back. Our eyes locked. My eyes were shocked and angry and I looked into his and there
was that twinkle. That horrible, powerful, engulfing twinkle. And we broke. We started to snicker which
turned into a giggle, then a chuckle, then a full out laugh. We were shaking and crying and honking and
holding each other. Maybe this was that moment we had both needed. Through our stunted, stammering
breathing I whished out, “I can’t believe you just said that!”
mmmn“I know, I’m awful, aren’t I?” He was so alive as his eyes sparkled with his mischievous grin.
After a few more sighs and a couple laughs in between, our breathing alighted.
mmmnWe gathered up all of Dad’s beloved painting gear and brought it down to the truck. He started it
with a roar and declared, “Still going strong!”
mmmnI leaned into the window, swallowed hard and said what I hadn’t been able to for a long time, “I
love you, Daddy.”
mmmnHe smiled. “Right back at ya, kiddo.”
mmmnSomehow, he drove off. Somehow, I got back upstairs.
mmmnAs I closed the door, I caught my reflection in the hall mirror. His blue eyes were gazing at me as
I gazed right back. I walked into my room with my face still as wet as the paint and laid down on my
plastic covered bed. Something flickered across the wall. I leaned over the side of the bed where a CD
had fallen and picked it up as the light dashed by again. It was catching the sunset from the window as I
danced it like a wild searchlight around the room. I stopped cold as it hit the white, untouched wall. The
light had slowed, centered itself then shattered into pieces. Resting there, on my white, untouched future,
was a spectrum of color, the source of which I held in my hands.

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