Seeing Colour

by Amber Faucher

  My brain, however, has probably just supplied my recognition with the closest identity it could find. Evie could imagine her internal hard drive flipping through a Rolodex full of pictures. Her brain would stop on Andy Wade, shrug and say ‘close enough.’

  The theory was in no way sound, but it at least sounded plausible. Like déjà vu.

  Then, of course, the only recourse to remedy this situation was to look at the man again. The thought made her fingers go from trembling to twitchy. She knit them together and hid them in her lap, willing them to stop.

  An elbow nudged her hard in the ribs, as Ian leaned over and whispered, “Mara’s looking murderous. Get yer head up and show off those frames.”

  Evie’s head snapped up.

  Ian’s concern transitioned quickly to relief, as Becca leaned forward in her seat on the other side of Mara to share a brief reassuring smile.

  Evie tried to stay steadfast, gaze only on Connie and the presentation. The dread and shock and confusion slowly began to recede, now that she had her head up and could focus. The Scot was doing a bang-up job, pouring his heart out to this investor. But curiosity was a nag that pestered her.

  The urge to turn her head, pricked up her spine, settling at the base of her skull. A new mantra filled her head, do it, look at him, go on!

  Evie felt stupid. Oh, the hell with it, just look at the damn guy!

  Pivoting her head a mere inch, felt like she was rotating 180°. When her eyes finally landed on the man, she began her inspection. He was looking at Connie, and at the slides. The green eyes were distracted and unfocused. It was hard to tell the length of his blond hair with it slicked back, as it was, but Andy never wore his hair back.

  This was the hair of a young businessman, not a surf slacker. Andy was too free to tie his back. It was always loose, left to flow about his cheeks and the sharp turn of his jawline. This hair-do made him look hard and less approachable—well, I’ll be damned. It is him…it has to be.

  The man’s head turned towards her, and she flicked her gaze back to Connie. Still curious, her gaze did not linger there long. It shifted back to the investor, to search his face a second time, then a third, always coming up with the same conclusion. She had seen Andy’s face so many times, but never in person. It had always been a digital recreation of the young man, and so she regarded whether she could be certain.

  If so, her brain had a ready supply of anecdotes. Cousins? Plausible, but cousins would not explain how close the resemblance was. Brothers? Her brothers certainly did not pass as twins and Andy had never really spoken of siblings. Long lost twin then. Andy wouldn’t know or be involved, so this look-a-like would also be unaware that she was confused about his identity.

  You’re grasping at straws, she rebuked herself.

  Doppelganger? Sure. Why not. At this point, the more ridiculous the answer, the more feasible it seemed. Since Evie had considered this possibility, her science fiction knowledge produced the option of an alternate reality and also an alien clone—to which she finally stopped.

  Evie studied his face again, methodically, this time. Her eyes moved, scrutinizing every bit of him that she could refer to the digital knowledge of Andy she knew from their internet conversations. They were identical. Right down to the barely-there cleft in his chin and the scar in his eyebrow from a ripped out eyebrow ring—surfing accident.

  The head turned back towards her, and this time, she caught her breath and found the nerve to meet his gaze head-on. The mouth broadened into a grin the man tried to restrain, the head dipping, before glancing away.

  Yes, it certainly looked like him. If he spoke, Evie would know for sure.

  Ian’s elbow met roughly with her ribs again, and she turned back towards Connie. She gave Ian a nudge right back to show him how much she appreciated it.

  As Connie was drawing the presentation to a close, Evie’s attention was gripped by the image behind the designer on the screen. Her own head. Giant-sized. It was the length of Connie’s torso, the frame on her bridge the width of his broad shoulders, and for once, she appreciated the picture. Her headshot was as professional as any other advertisement, except for that gleam in her eye.

  Andy had said it best. There was a difference between a model and a believer, and she could see that difference now. It was glaringly apparent. The lenses were real, not digitally rendered, and the glasses belonged there. It was the same frame she wore now.

  Connie smiled at her, subtly gesturing at her in closing, as he thanked the investor. One Andrew Miller of Miller & Gabel Corporation.

  The investor stood up and crossed the floor to the designer, firmly shaking his hand. The man continued with a short closing speech, mostly talking about how grateful and excited he was to be allowed the opportunity of partnering with MC Eyecare Group to produce Thistle. As he stood to the side in conversation with Connie, Evie was afforded the opportunity to stare.

  For crying out loud, the redhead thought, it is Andy. This can’t be real! How is this happening…?

  When a hand touched her shoulder, Evie jumped in her seat. Becca smiled and leaned in, “You get held up at work, Red?”

  The dispensing optician groaned, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “You have no idea. Last-minute sale and then construction. I’m so sorry, Becca. I hoped to just slip in unnoticed.”

  “Oh, Evie,” Becca chuckled, “when are you going to accept that heads turn when you enter a room?”

  “Probably never,” Evie retaliated, jokingly accusing, “cause you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Take a compliment for once.” Becca demanded, patting her knee before she began to dig, “Were you just nervous about being late or what gave you the start?”

  Evie really did not want to have to answer that question. What would she say?

  Oh, well, you see my best friend from the internet, that I have never met in person before—ever—just so happens to be this here investor! Not exactly something she wanted to share.

  Lamely, she wiggled her fingers and joked, “Butterfingers, I’m afraid.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Becca mused, giving her a knowing look over the rim of her new glasses.

  Evie noticed Connie and the investor part ways. Those green eyes met hers, and that same uncontrollable grin that she knew and loved stretched across Andy’s face. There was no mistaking the man now.

  Mara dove in, making her introduction as a lightbulb went off above Evie’s head.

  “Becca, can I borrow your phone?”

  “I guess,”

  Evie snatched at the smartphone the instant it was produced.

  “Whoa, grabby hands,” Becca complained, questioning, “Where’s yours?”

  “Ugh! I left it at the store.” Evie hastily replied, as her fingers tapped away at the screen.

  Ignoring Becca, Evie opened a web browser and typed in her surf slacker’s name. All that came up was what she expected, the social media outlets that she knew he frequented. On a new page, she searched the investor company’s name that was given at the end of the presentation: ‘Miller & Gabel’.

  It wasn’t what she expected upfront. It looked like a regular company profile. When she investigated further, she discovered that they were an Australian multinational consumer goods corporation headquartered in Adelaide, South Australia.

  Then she spied a different company information tab. When the page opened, she was greeted by professional-looking headshots. They were all white teeth and expensive business suits. She flipped past all the grey-hairs, desperately searching for this Andrew Miller.

  He wasn’t present.

  Evie huffed and went back to the search. After the company’s website, she spotted another online general information link. When it loaded, she was greeted with a brief synopsis on how Radcliff G. Miller and Curtis Gabel had founded the company. Evie skimmed through, noting that the current CEO was his son Reginald and that he had turned the company into a global money-making success. The name was high-lighted as anot
her link, so she went deeper, discovering that Andrew Wade Miller was the next in line to inherit the company. Complete with a remarkably stuffy looking photo of Andy looking all suave and sophisticated.

  “Aren’t you done yet?” Becca whined.

  “Just a minute,” Evie pressed, avoiding Becca’s grab for the device.

  Evie darted a glance back at Andy, then the photo. She gave a resigned sigh as she let Becca snag back her phone.

  Ian caught Connie’s arm by the elbow, and the two shared a congratulatory smile. The redhead pushed back her chair and stood. Becca did the same, beginning to clear away the presentation materials into a rolling tote.

  Then Connie came to Evie, his presence warm, as he leant down to let her know, “We’re going to The One Horned Mare to celebrate.”

  Evie glanced back at the investor—at Andy…here, in the flesh.

  “Great,” she replied, turning back to the Scot, “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit. I have something I need to take care of first.”

  Connie looked offended, but his dark head gave an affirming nod anyway. Ian called to him from the door, just as another hand grasped her free hand. When Evie turned, she came face to face with her best friend and closest confidant, for the first time—ever! She dropped Connie’s hand, and the Scot reluctantly left to join Ian and Mara at the elevator.

  Andy pulled her to the far corner of the room, out of view of the others who were all leaving. “Fancy meeting you here…” he dared to joke.

  Evie punched his shoulder. “Nothing fancy about it! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

  “Well, I…you know, it’s complicated…and I didn’t want to…”

  “Didn’t want to tell me that you’re a big fat internet poser, whose lied to me for like…” Evie couldn’t find the right words in the heat of the moment, “…forever!”

  Andy rubbed at the back of his neck. “I wanted to explain—I mean, I was going to…

  “By dropping in unannounced?” she finished for him, her tone acrider than she had intended.

  “Ugh, yeah,” he returned, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as she heard him gulp. “I hadn’t planned for it to go down quite like this. I had told you to be early…”

  Evie clucked her tongue against her cheek and snapped, “I’m pretty sure that was my best friend.”

  “Ah-huh,” he reluctantly agreed. It came out an awkward sort of chuckle. “Just for the record, I sent you a butt load of texts, freaking out, when you didn’t show. So, in the end, it’s me who should be upset because technically…you ditched me.”

  “What?! No!”

  “Mm-hmm!” he insisted, taking off with this tangent, with his usual flagrant disregard for common courtesy, “I’m suing for phycological damages.”

  “Oh, really?” Evie retaliated, “I’m the one with brain trauma! I don’t even know who you are anymore. You could be some kind of crazy knife-wielding online stalker!”

  Evie had meant it to be caustic, but as it left her mouth, she started laughing. What kind of stalker takes years to fatten up his mark with buttery ideals like commitment issues and irresponsibility before flying across the world to surprise them at a business meeting? This was probably the epitome of the exact opposite. How to Fail at Stalking 101.

  “Well, that’s what I was hoping to avoid,” Andy said, sounding as sincere and hopeful—until he ruined it. “You know, the stabbing you part. Too messy. I prefer suffocation, personally. Saves a trip to the dry-cleaners.” He looked like a fish as he made kissy faces at her.

  Evie cracked up again. “Gah! I don’t know if I should punch you…or hug you.”

  “Seeing you already punched me, that leaves only one option…”

  Her fist pounded into his bicep, hard enough to make him yelp. Then she threw her arms about his neck, and they embraced one another for the first time. Andy’s arms were strong about her. His head fell against her shoulder, smothered in her loose hair. His body against hers was nothing new or different, it was like coming home. Evie was so glad to have him there, to finally be with her best friend, even if it felt more like sci-fi than real life.

  They parted, both trying to talk at the same time. Their questions crashed into one another, making them stop and laugh. Evie couldn’t stop smiling long enough to be angry with him anymore. “So…who are you? Andy…or Andrew? What am I supposed to call you?”

  “You can call me whatever you want. Dickhead, asshole, creeper-stalker-dude…”

  Evie snorted a scoff. It was Andy alright, incapable of even one serious thought.

  “Let’s just keep things simple,”

  Evie shrugged uncomfortably. “Is that really possible, though?” she asked him, no longer sounding angry or elated, but vulnerable. “I mean…this is really, really crazy.”

  The blond chuckled, his shame not powerful enough to kill the buzz of excitement. “I know, and I’m sorry. But it’s a very…” he stopped and sighed.

  His eyes searched hers, and she noted that he looked scared too. “It’s a long story, but if you have time…I could start.”

  “I guess,” she chuckled, closing her eyes and shaking her head at him, “you did come a long way and all. And like this?! I mean, a suit?”

  “Yeah, well,” Andy laughed, taking her hand, “I can explain that too. Maybe over a drink?”

  “Starbucks?” Evie chirped.

  “My treat!”

  ◆◆◆

  “Just so you know guys, we will be closing down in ten minutes,” the green aproned barista whispered to them, as he swept the floor.

  Evie nodded her head in agreement as she turned back to Andy. They had finished their drinks hours ago, shared a Nanaimo bar, and talked themselves blue in the face.

  Andy explained everything.

  Evie learned that his family had always been well off. Although he was thankful for his family’s success, it wasn’t without its disadvantages. Many that most people were incapable of considering. The problem that prompted their situation involved navigating a sea of false-relationships. People are attracted to money, and Andy’s biggest frustration was struggling to make real connections.

  Andy became disenchanted and incredibly suspicious of the intentions of those that reached out to him, especially as a friend. After a series of especially toxic relationships, Andy threw himself into his business studies, focusing on nothing but school and work. When he became lonely, he turned to online chat groups, revelling in the anonymity. This was where he established his alter ego, swapping his last name with his middle name. Online he was free, becoming Andy Wade, the irresponsible surf-lover, who was held back by nothing and no one.

  That was how they had met—a sci-fi chatroom. There Evie found a place to be a geek, free of judgement and prejudice, and Andy found connections that had nothing to do with money and power. They had fit together online like two puzzle pieces, filling one another’s cracks and notches. Now that they were together in-person, it proved to be no different. They finished one another’s sentences, they quoted Tv shows and movies in general conversation, they laughed and joked and enjoyed themselves.

  “So, why now? Why Thistle?”

  It was the big unknown. The one thing that Evie couldn’t relate to or piece together.

  Andy gave a noncommittal shrug. “You talked me into it.”

  Evie scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips.

  “No, really,” he defended, “you were so excited about it, and when you talked about how big the frames could be, I believed you. When you said that you were going to be the face of Thistle, it was a no brainer. I knew they would sell.”

  Her purse tightened as she gave his bicep another jab for all his pretend flattery.

  “I’m not like…” Andy struggled for words, “some kind of CEO-in-training or anything. My dad's way too much of a hard-ass to just let me inherit the position. I work for the company just like anyone else, as part of the finance team. They’ve been looking for ways to really diversify the
company’s holdings, and Connie’s frames fit the bill. I pitched Thistle to them based on what you had given me and…well, I’m here, ain’t I?”

  “Huh,” Evie pondered. This was surely a good sign for Thistle’s business prospects. It wasn’t just Andy doing her a solid to smooth over the deception. It was honestly a relief.

  “So, you think you’re okay with this?” Andy finally asked, as they dumped their empty paper cups in the trash and stepped outside the closing café.

  “As okay as I could be, I guess.” She shrugged her shoulders as she zipped up the front of her coat, “It still feels slightly impossible. Like an alternate reality or something.”

  “Like that Stargate SG-1 episode?” Andy suggested.

  “Oh!” Evie squealed with delight, wrinkling her nose as she fist-pumped the air, “That’s what we are doing next! We have to watch that episode!”

  “Agreed!” Andy laughed, “but first, it’s Scotland, I have to try some whiskey!”

  “Done,” Evie replied, “we can grab some on the way back to my flat.”

  They caught a cab, stopping to grab a bottle of what the liquor store clerk swore was the best whiskey and headed back to Leith. Now in the flat, Andy ditched his jacket and tie, kicking off his shoes like he couldn’t wait to be free of them. Evie snuck into her bedroom to peel off the dress and don her Dr. Daniel Jackson tee, a pair of pants, and fuzzy socks.

  Serena and her guests were in bed already. The pair tiptoed around, grabbing munchies and glasses, before taking her laptop and fuzzy blanket out onto the deck so as not to disturb anyone. Stealing the pillows and cushions from the couch, they made a nest, complete with a blanket canopy, a couple walls shy of a blanket fort. They settled back with her laptop, popping in the DVD to watch the episode.

  “To finally being in the same room together,” Andy toasted, clinking his glass against hers.