What Does Blue Feel Like?
Page 3
have always thought they were
Good Parents.
They pride themselves on knowing, really knowing
what’s going on in their
children’s lives.
But,
try as they might,
they can’t quite seem to grasp
what is happening with Char.
They ask her
over and over
What’s wrong?
What’s the matter?
And always
always
there is the same answer.
Nothing.
Fashion victim
Char hears an urban legend
about a man
who hung himself from a doorknob
with his tie.
She observes her inanimate school tie
hanging on her doorknob
and she thinks,
‘He really was dressed to kill.’
Forecasts
There are days
There are days
that are good.
that are bad.
Nights
Nights
when she is granted the
when sleep is evasive,
luxury of sleep.
dreams filled with horror.
She is content — almost
She is accepting — but
happy.
saddened.
Smiles and laughter.
Tears and sadness.
Like sunshine and rain,
no one can predict
on which day you should
take an umbrella.
Jim cannot
handle Char much longer.
She is in pain, he knows
and he does not want to make it worse.
But ...
his younger sister shrills,
‘Char’s crazy,’
and he doesn’t know whether to agree or not.
Jim knows about many things,
but Char
and her demons
he doesn’t understand.
Her mother screams
mindlessly into the darkened silence,
‘You are acting possessed, child.’
The empty house does not respond.
And solitude is a quiet friend to have.
Reservoir
Bronwyn gives in,
pulls away,
her reservoir of energy is depleted.
She thinks, half-heartedly,
that perhaps Char is only after a bit of attention
and, if she doesn’t get it,
maybe she will no longer act the part of a
woebegone person
faintly reminiscent of Char.
And so she pulls away.
She is drained.
Char gives her knowing looks whenever they pass
each other at school.
The looks are faintly sympathetic, as if she, too, is saying,
I am drained.
I am tired. So tired,
I could sleep for days.
But I cannot
sleep.
My bones ache and my head is a fog.
Char listens
to a song in which the singer,
emotionless,
screams
Take my hand and come with me,
lead you through the dark
come with me, come with me.
I can
set you free.
Or are you happy in your captivity?
Jim
Char pushes Jim away, because
he cares too much.
He is too steadfast, too gentle, too loving,
and when she hurts this much,
seeing him doesn’t make the pain go away.
She is burdening him, the voice whispers.
He could have a life, a normal girl,
instead of someone who
doesn’t stand a chance in the world,
not really.
Jim pulls away from Char, because
he cares too much.
He is running out of steadfast love,
but really because
he wants a normal life, a normal girl.
Char has changed from the fun wild child he knew at that
party into a girl
who seems determined
to let herself fall,
and stay
down.
He doesn’t know what he is doing any more
and he is scared.
And,
just like that,
as quickly as it began,
it is over.
Finished.
Administer as needed
Char meets with her doctor, to get some
prescribed sleeping
pills.
The doctor, startled by the blackness under her eyes,
tries to find the reason.
The cause. There must be, he muses
(like all logical minds would),
someone, something to blame.
But all he can comprehend is the tired, bewildered, and
half-near-tears child opposite him.
Scratching his head,
he writes the script.
The pills bring sleep.
Of a kind.
The kind that knocks you out,
plunging you into dreams
that are the blackest black.
Groggy upon waking,
and still needing sleep.
Time for . . .
Her parents decide it is time for action.
Time to get this straightened out.
Time to restore their daughter.
Time to look at options.
Time to make decisions.
Time to be in their parental element.
Time to make this stop.
Time to
do something.
Anything.
But what?
Unkept
Char looks unkempt. Ruffled, baggy and drawn. Although
Julie tries, she does not want to treat Char
like a four year old.
And when Char gets a detention for being scruffy
even though Julie is itching to sit her down,
brush her hair properly,
scrub off that chipping nail polish,
she does not.
Instead
she grimly says,
‘You did bring it on yourself, Char.’
Point of view
Bronwyn cannot stand to Watch.
She can’t stand Not to Watch.
And so, transfixed, she observes Char
until she can no longer ignore the growing sense of fear in
the pit of her stomach.
One lunchtime, she seeks out Jim.
She finds him, immersed in the largest uniformed
group of boys.
A tap on the shoulder, and he turns around, affronted
slightly at being tapped.
She pulls him by the wrist
out of the circle
and begs him
to do something.
He opens his mouth to refuse,
and sees Char wandering past,
looking sadder than ever.
Alone.
He looks back to Bronwyn.
Her eyes are pleading him to accept, and she hugs him
when he does.
Out of bounds
He finds Char,
still wandering, and takes her hand.
She barely acknowledges him,
but doesn’t pull away.
He leads her — and it is like leading a puppet
with leaden feet and wooden limbs —
away,
out to the furthest corner of the oval, encircled by trees.
It is out of bounds for students,
but no one bothers them.
They sit down,
and still have not spoken.
Natural medicine
<
br /> Jim avoids her eyes.
There is something uncanny about their bleakness.
Without a word he takes her hair in his hands.
Clumsily, he begins to plait,
putting something back in order, trying to find Char in
there somewhere.
When he has finished he sneaks a
glance into her eyes.
They are brimming with tears, and even as he watches,
they overflow.
And, still without words,
she is in his arms.
He breathes in the familiar scent of her hair
and she is touched
by this small gesture.
Wordlessly, she thanks him
and he feels her salty tears
soaking into his shirt, her breath upon his face,
and her hands, warm, upon his skin.
Changes
Char agrees to go with Jim
to a party
at a friend of a friend’s.
She
dresses
brushes her hair
puts on make-up and perfume.
Transformed,
she emerges from her room.
Her parents,
amazed,
can only watch as she walks out the door.
Party Games – Chinese Whispers (ya know?)
>I just saw Char, ya know? She was with Jim
>>I heard she was crazy, ya know? I heard she tried to jump off the roof
>>>Hey, Pete, did ya know that Char and Jim are here? I heard she’s pregnant
>>>>Hey, Tom, Pete reckons Char’s ...ya know. Pretty damn thin for someone who’s ...ya know
>>>>> Lucy, did ya know if Char’s ...ya know, anorexic?
>>>>>> Hey, Sam, do ya know what the deal is with Char?
>>>>>>> Over in a corner, where Char and Jim are drinking and partly mingling, Jim watches the light in the room bounce off Char’s earrings. He notices the red of her lip gloss and the smoothness of her skin. Feeling a sudden overwhelming need to protect her, he clasps her hands with his and asks, ‘How are you feeling?’ She replies, ‘I don’t know —
>>>>>>>> do ya?’
If I could
bottle
this feeling inside
I would sell it
and I would be rich,
really rich
because people drink, and take drugs, and do all other
sorts of shit
to feel this
numb.
It’s like the cold you feel in the middle of winter
when your fingers and toes have turned to ice.
You can pinch them, and twist them around
and normally they’d hurt
but they’re just numb.
It’s like that but you aren’t cold.
Just numb.
And you can’t say how you feel when people ask
because you don’t feel.
Happy drunk
A few drinks later,
and she is laughing.
It is a Kahlua-vodka-Baccardi-bourbon laugh,
a ‘take me drunk, I’m home’ laugh,
an ‘everything is so pretty when I’m drunk’ laugh.
She is a happy drunk,
a spin-around-in-circles-and-giggle drunk,
and she is laughing
and the feeling is somewhat familiar,
like seeing an old friend again after years have passed,
or an old pair of jeans you can’t bear to throw away,
you can just slip back into them,
and the familiarity is so comforting.
Dreaming
When he wakes, Jim is pretty sure he’s dreaming.
Char is nestled in his arms
in the exact way she always used to.
He can rest his face in her hair, and breathe in
the scent of it
in the exact way he always used to.
She stirs in his arms, and wakes, smiling at him —
in the exact way she sometimes did.
But he isn’t dreaming, because he kisses her cheek.
Exactly how he always does.
Just like old times
They sit on the back veranda with their coffees.
Squinting against the sunlight.
Nursing headaches.
It is so familiar.
When she goes home,
in the afternoon sun
and sits,
alone
in her room
the numbness returns
with startling clarity.
And feels almost like she should be hurting
but isn’t
and yet ...
Wounded
Sometimes
when you cry
the tears flow, gently, caressingly down your face.
Like making yourself cry so you get out of trouble with
your parents.
Other times,
when you cry a little harder
they course rough zigzag tracks as you gulp and snuffle,
sometimes even hiccup.
And then there are the rare times
when something inside you cracks,
when your heart is breaking just a little
and then
there’s an ocean on your face, the pillow, your shirt,
and your crying sounds like the howling
of a wounded animal.
You don’t mean to
but you can’t help it.
And this kind of crying is exhausting
and,
unlike the
other kinds,
you can’t
stop
crying, it just runs its course.
And you know you’ve never cried like that before.
And no one else has ever hurt quite like you do.
Barriers
Back at school
Char is sitting in class, watching everyone else
not working,
just watching.
And she thinks, I am different
from all of you
and none of you
has ever felt like this before.
There is a barrier
between me
and all of you.
Is it
impenetrable?
Party girl
There is another party for, of course, there is
another weekend.
Another excuse to get drunk
and forget.
Because everyone has something they’d rather
not think about.
And when you’re not thinking, you can breathe.
So goddamn small
Char and Jim go for a walk,
not for sex, as everyone said when they left.
This party is conveniently situated near the beach.
They stumble their way down the footpath
acting sober for the sake of
passers-by
even though it’s way past midnight,
and there aren’t actually any passers-by.
A small dog barks and they giggle,
run the rest of the way
down the street and onto the sand.
Char shivers in the cool air and Jim
pulls her into him, wraps his arms around her.
She relaxes into him, and thinks,
he smells like beer.
They stand together,
looking up at the stars.
Jim drunkenly says, ‘They’re so beautiful. They make me
feel so good. Aren’t they good, Char?’
Char doesn’t reply for a long time.
Finally, she says, ‘Yeah, they’re pretty. But they make me
feel so goddamn small.’
Eventually, they turn and make their way back
to the party.
Skipping school
Char doesn’t go to school on Monday.
She pretends to be si
ck
and it’s not exactly a lie, not really.
She’s still hungover
but her parents don’t know she drinks
so they think she’s actually ill.
She doesn’t feel well, truthfully,
but she hasn’t in a long time.
She lies in bed,
willing herself to get out.
It’s not that hard, she knows,
but it’s so much easier just to lie still.
Eventually,
she pulls herself up
and outside with a coffee.
A butterfly comes,
flies away,
and comes back,
landing on her hand.
Char is mesmerised.
It is so pretty.
She begins to look around.
‘What about you, little lady?’
The next afternoon,
Jim goes with her to the
tattoo parlour.
The guy there has a tattoo all down one arm
with a picture of a lady’s face on it, and the words Annie
May sketched out just below the picture.
He has just finished a tattoo on a skinny man
with a moustache.
Moustache proudly tells them that he’s just gotten initials
tattooed on his fingers,
which is actually illegal
but he knows Tony is so skilled, and they’re such good
mates, he was just the person for the job.
Tattoo Tony turns to her. ‘What about you, little lady?’
Char grimly pulls a crumply bit of paper out of her pocket.
It is a sketch of the butterfly.
She wants the tattoo just above her bum, where her
parents won’t ever see it.
Hell, they’d ground her for life
if they knew she was even in here.
Jim signs the consent form, because he’s eighteen.
It’s not so bad, not really.
It sounds like a dentist’s drill
and the pain is just like getting stung by a bee,