Colors
Jonathan came to a conclusion, that everything he did up to this point mattered none.
Each stroke, darker than the other. His brush pulled and stretched mountains from the ground creating a massive core of darkness. It seeped out of what made the sky blue. His brush dragged and twisted what made nature so green and vivid. The sea remained calmer than ever. It lay still. Stagnant and greyed out. The prism of colors that Jonathan saw were a mix of grey, black, and white. He dared not to lift his head up. At any moment, he would burst.
With a flick of the wrist the grip on his paintbrush tightened, almost as if wanted to snap in half. He dipped it harshly into a small cup of water and the bristles bent to the bottom of the cup, washing out the colors that clung to its end.
The imagery he imagined turned out to be monotone and flat. He believed that he had lost the sense of detail. Jonathan bit his lips and his fingers were tense. They were rough and stern with a few blotches of black and grey yet they shook like icicles that were ready to shatter at any moment. Before his paintbrush could drift back to the canvas he took a few moments to breathe and remained still.
“I can do this,” he whispered to himself and blocked out any thought that would barge the walls he built to keep him safe. But time after time, they managed to seep through the cracks. The single tear that ran down Jonathan’s cheek was similar to his brush, both of them carried weight, a drop that would soon turn ripples into violent waves. He proceeded to slosh his brush and pinned it with vigor on a white empty spot.
The door behind Jonathan opened and warmth welcomed itself into his room.”Thanks for the pie Mrs. Lee!” Amber said in a jovial tone. “Is it fine if I take home some of the leftovers? My siblings missed your cooking. “Jonathan’s mother nodded and Amber winked in reply with a radiant smile to match. The dozens of mismatched bracelets covering her tanned wrist with leather belts and beads jingled as she gestured two finger guns in appreciation.
She glides her hand over the door knob and tiptoes inside with her socks that bursted in a set of tacky colors. Bright green and neon orange overlapped with one another, creating an array of various floral patterns that could hurt anyone's eyes if they looked up close. Each step that brushed the ticklish autumn carpet beneath brought color to the dimly lit room, for a second the grass swayed as it came to life and the sun bounced back high above. The silhouette it casted down belonged to Amber. She wandered around the room and tapped Jonathan’s stiff shoulder, “Whatcha working on?”
Her warm voice thawed out the stillness that ran from his shoulders down to his fingers and it jolted him from his seat, “Amber!” Jonathan loosened up, placed his brush to the side, and shook both of his hands. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?”
“Sorry, force of habit." Amber tilted her head to the side and closed the window shut “Is that a new piece I see?”
Jonathan looked at the canvas and tapped his fingers on the wooden desk, “Yes but by the looks of it, it just looks the same as the rest.” he sighed, wanting to scrap what he worked on for hours just to make another one.
“What do you mean it's the same as the other ones? Here let me take a look.” Amber cocked her head only to be blocked by Jonathan as he turned around from his seat.
“It’s not finished.” Jonathan bit his lower lip and refused to show the dark and hollow reimagination of the scene he had in mind.
“But you always show me your work in progress.”
“I do but not now. You’ll just be disappointed.”
‘Disappointed?!” Amber crossed her arms. “Are you kidding me? I never met anyone who’s as talented as you with a brush.”
Amber waddled closer. “I mean look behind you, for the past few months you’ve improved.”
“I can’t look at them.” Jonathan’s fuzzy eyebrows dropped flat. “I’m tired of looking at what I was capable of before. Now everything is a blur, everything that I do know is just a bad copy of the past. They are hollow, empty, devoid of meaning.” Jonathan raised his voice and it cracked like glass.
Amber’s arms fell to her side, her words were muddled, unable to reach Jonathan.
He turned away, hiding his eyes behind his frizzy bangs and averted his attention somewhere else. In the absence of color, his gaze focused on her loud and obnoxious looking socks. They were vibrant, a patchwork of two colors that didn't go well with one another gave him a sense of clarity. His eyes detested the set of colors but the longer he stared at it the more he found meaning through it. He inhaled a sharp breath, and decided that he wanted to give up.
“Jonathan!” the way Amber snapped her fingers caused her wristbands to chime, “Is everything okay?”
Amber’s tender hands cupped Jonathan’s cheeks and at that moment her luminous brown eyes met his.
Jonathan bit his bottom lip, sniffled, and pulled back from Amber’s grasp. He chuckled as loud as he could but the glass inside his heart that he kept in balance started to spill. He wiped a tear with his sleeve. He wiped again, and again, and again. It took him some time to realize that his tears were already overflowing, carrying the weight that he bore for months.
Amber reached out for Jonathan and hugged him tight.
“Amber,” His voice quivered as his arms went limp, laying his head to her shoulder.
“Jonathan.” She stretched her arm and rubbed the back of his head and swayed from left to right in silence. She wanted him to pour everything out and did not want an inch left of suffering in Jonathan’s heart.
“No matter what I do,” Jonathan sniffled and dug deeper into Amber's jacket, soaking it with tears, “I feel like I'm not doing enough. I’m so tired and I just want to give up.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“That’s not true,” She said with conviction. “I’ve seen you give your all and trust me, they are the most beautiful art pieces that I've ever seen.”
“But why do I feel nothing? why don’t I feel that spark anymore?” Jonathan clutched his neck and swallowed tears in a dry throat.
“Everything’s going to be ok,” she said with a reassuring smile. “We’ve been friends for a very long time and I know that you’ve always done your best. You’re the most amazing person that I've ever met and I know that you won’t give that easily.”
Jonathan slowly lifted his head up, and Amber brushed off his bangs, and wiped a few more tears with her thumb.
“Let's look at them again.”
The tension that wrapped around Jonathan’s hand disappeared as Amber’s fingers interlocked with his.
“But this time together.”
For a second Jonathan felt that blotches of black and gray stains on his stern fingers had meaning. For a minute his vision climbed to her smile that gleamed like the morning sun. When he stared at her tanned copper skin with puffy red cheeks, it almost felt like an hour had passed by. He adored the intricacies that she donned herself with. When he stared into her eyes it felt like a year.
In her eyes he saw light, and in her presence he found a swirl of colors that were no longer mute just like her socks and bracelets.
“Together” He cleared his throat, nodded, and Amber guided him as he turned around.
He took a deep breath and fixed himself to look at the various worlds painted by him that hung right on top of his desk. He counted seven windows to these worlds, all made on medium sized canvases, each of them depicting a piece of his life, emotion and imagination.
“See, it wasn’t that bad right?” She lightly tapped Jonathan’s back and her plum lips stretched to the edge of her cheeks.
“Yeah, it's not bad at all,” he said in a much lighter tone. “I almost forgot how fun the process was.”
The little ounce of fear that clung within him washed away when he looked down at his work in progress along with Amber, comparing it among the rest. The dark and heavy mountains that towered over the dry land he crafted not so long ago were in contrast to his most recent piece, a stalwart weathered and grey lighthouse that pierced through the charcoal skies with waves of cobalt blue crashing down below.
He brushed his bangs and flashed a smile. What he noticed was that he was looking at a timeline as some would say. He continued to observe from right to left and recognized how he grew to be meticulous and always in search of meaning. When his eyes fell on the fourth all the way to the first, he began to miss freedom, to create something just for him and Amber to see.
They were a mess. A beautiful yet vibrant mess.
“I see where you’re looking at.” Amber teased Jonathan with a sly grin
“Yeah,” he giggled. “The first one.”
“The very first one!” She sauntered right in front of him and tried to imitate the full body portrait painted by Jonathan and stood straight like a tree. She raised her chin, with legs glued together and arms locked in place beside her hips. “I had to stand like this for an hour just for you to get it done, did you know how hard that was?!”
Jonathan took a few steps back, tilting his head as he shifted his gaze from present Amber to kid Amber, and he had to congratulate himself because they both indeed looked alike.
The small, younger, ruff and rowdy Amber had the same mix-bag of tacky colored clothes that the present Amber still preferred wearing, like a jumble of colors that sprang to life.
“I see you still carry the same fashion sense when we first met.” Jonathan covered his mouth to hide his mirth.
“Was that a compliment or an insult?” Amber struck a pose with both hands to her hips, her grin turned into a frown with a brow raised.
“A bit of both actually.” he said and his mouth quirked.
“Says the guy who’s closet only has the same three shades of colors.” Amber crossed her arms with a smirk.
They both locked their eyes with one another and Jonathan was the first to break the silence, he bursted out laughing and so did Amber.
“I guess some things never change huh?”
“Some yeah, like your mothers cooking which is by the way still delicious!” Amber lightly bumped her fist to Jonathan’s chest. “But you have changed, you have improved as an artist and don’t you dare call your artworks a disappointment ever again. Do you have any idea how excited I am every time I see you work on a new piece?”
“A little too excited? Because you always come into my room scaring me.” Jonathan said as he wiggled his fingers freely up in the air.
“Sorry, force of habit,” she shrugged.
“Amber,” Jonathan called her name in a mellow voice and sat back on his seat. “Thank you so much, I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t here tonight.”
Amber took a bow, “Anything for a friend.” she raised her head, “Remember Jonathan you’re never ever alone.”
Jonathan swiveled his seat and tapped his fingers on the wooden desk. “Now what to do?”
Amber's thoughts lit up and offered Jonathan her idea. At first he had second thoughts about it as he brushed his chin for a couple seconds.
He found her idea absurd but he decided to go along with it. He rummaged through his materials and grabbed another canvas placed under his desk along with his easel, and hand-picked a few containers of acrylic paint along with Amber. Her choice contrasted his usual new style of a darker tone.
Amber switched on the lights and skipped a few steps next to his bedroom door, dipping her socks once more to the carpet beneath, she stood still and struck a pose, stiff and straight like a tree that caused her wristbands to chime.
“Is this spot too bright or too messy?”
Jonathan swiveled his seat towards her with a pen in hand. “That's a perfect spot, but try to loosen up.” Jonathan said as he leaned forward.
Amber shook her hands and went for one of her favorite poses with a peace sign raised up. After the initial sketch Amber decided to stay for the night and slept soundly on Jonathan’s bed.
Jonathan couldn’t rest for the sparks inside him kindled into a bonfire.
Each stroke remained free and loose. His brush pulled and stretched the bright blue sky from above creating a beautiful landscape filled with light. It rained prismatic beads of rain that kissed the lush green glades of grass beneath. Amber’s ash blonde hair blew against the wind, revealing a bright smile like the sun, but in fact she was the sun.
She was the centerpiece that blended the harmony of colors together. She stood loose yet strong and adamant. The prism of colors that Jonathan saw were a mix of everything that Amber wore. He dared to lift his head up. At any moment, he would cry.
A world without Amber is a world without colors.