the threads in her head

-Colours

She gingerly felt for the tap, and upon finding it, gave it a quick twist. A gush of hot steamy water fell upon her and she gasped at the sudden shock of it.

“Hey Gwen, are you ok?” a voice echoed through the bathroom. She frowned and replied, “Yes Jess, I’m fine. Now can you get out of my room please?”

“Oh… sure, I’ll leave. Um…I left the sky blue turtleneck sweater and a pair of long black pants on the bed for you,” Jessica replied. The gentle click of the door signalled her absence from the room, and Gwendolyn let out the air she had unknowingly held in. The water was still beating down on her, but she welcomed it. It was comforting, like a therapeutic massage, easing frustrations away. She closed her eyes, enjoying the melody of water meeting earth. But the tranquillity was shattered as thoughts flew to that of her sister, Jessica. Unwelcomed thoughts flowed and as images of the accident flooded her mind, her eyes opened…

To darkness.

Disabled - that was what she was; a girl with sightless eyes due to a car accident two years ago. A scream threatened to erupt from her throat as her eyes prickled with tears. She shook her head wildly, finished her shower, and groped for her clothes on the bed. Finding her sweater, she fingered it critically. “The sky blue turtleneck sweater and a pair of long black pants”, the words swirled around in her mind, repeating itself.

She laughed, a soft bitter laugh. It was so typical of her sister, to add in descriptions of the colours, mocking her disability. “Oh, to your right Gwen, there’s this gorgeous rose bush. The roses are such a deep rich maroon.” she mimicked in a falsetto voice.

Remembering what all the colours looked like did not help matters. She could see it now, a luminous maroon rose; each petal delicately defined by Mother Nature herself in its greyish shadow among the green of the rose bush. With a poof, as though it was a magician’s trick, the image disappeared into the darkness. Gwendolyn clenched her hands tight into little balls and slowly exhaled. She refused to let herself focus on that.

But the memories came, poignant memories of holding a paintbrush, dipping it into the paint, swirling it with other colours to produce brilliant hues and shades. She remembered observing fruits thoughtfully, carefully curling the paintbrush to mirror the curve of the rosy pink peach dappled with yellow. She remembered lovingly applying colours to the white canvas, filling up an empty blank with something beautiful.

Once, she had painted this sunflower. Painstakingly, she had mixed colours to get the exact dusky shade of yellow for the shadows of each petal. Crafting out details people might not even see was so much work, but she loved it. The satisfaction and joy she had when she finished it was indescribable. She had been an artist, adoring man’s ability to be captivated by meanings and raw emotions in colours splashed onto canvas, giving shape to otherwise meaningless colours.

Never could she capture beauty in its fleeting moment now. To be able to paint was a lust that haunted her. She could see it in her mind’s eye now, of a paintbrush slowly blending the colours, of applying pressure to the canvas – how she hated her disability then! Without sight, what was she? What was she?

The sound of her name snapped her out of her thoughts. “Gwen? Are you done? I would like to bring you somewhere,” Jessica said.

“Just give me a moment,” Gwendolyn replied. “I would like to bring you somewhere.” - How many times had her sister said that ever since she was blind? It seemed like a kind of ritual, in which her sister would drag her off to “somewhere” and then start describing the places. The last time they went on vacation, Jessica was dragging her to a new place every day. “Oh, there’s the sea lapping at your toes in front of you. It’s this beautiful greenish-blue with purples. There are shells too. Oh this shell, it’s seems to be a lighter shade of coral red with bands of white in between. It’s so pretty. Here, feel the shell. Can you picture it? ”

“Gwen? Are you ready now?” Jessica rapped on the door.

They went out, Jessica guiding her along. Fiery red-hot rage bubbled up within Gwendolyn then, with a hue of bluish depression mixed into it. Why her? Why was she the one who was in the car which crashed, sinking into oblivion as she lost consciousness, only to wake up to eternal darkness? The one who tore at her bandages, fearful of what this pitch-black darkness might bring? Subjected to the realisation that she would never see the colours of this world, her life had indeed been shrouded in blackness.

They stumbled up a gentle slope. Soon, the trickling of water was heard and as they both sat down, Jessica launched into a detailed sketch.

“There, in front of you is a little stream, bubbling. Oh, its waters are clear and there are little pebbles and rocks scattered on the stream’s bed. You can actually go wade in it if you want to; it’s a gentle shallow stream. Try picturing it, it’s like the stream on Aunt Lucy’s farm, only smaller. You can see little fishes darting around, they are a silvery white. Their scales actually gleam and glitter when they catch the sun! There are trees to our right, and they are flowering! Ooh, I like the flowers. They’re so interesting. It’s like several little joined stems, white at the bottom and slowly changing into fuchsia. And at the very top, there’s this small cheeky-yellow ball. It smells lovely. Here, take it and feel it. Can you picture it?”

Gwendolyn could. And it gave her so much pain, not to be able to capture the flower’s likeness, its grace and elegance. The pain smarted, and all of a sudden, the words spurted out of her mouth. “Why Jessica why?! Why do you always describe these beautiful things, and cause me pain? Do you know how much it hurts not being able to see, not being able to capture grace with paper and brush anymore? To be good at something but have it taken away… Why do you make it harder? Do you find joy in that!”

She could hear the ragged beating of her heart in the stunned silence that followed. The silence itself seemed to yawn bigger and bigger, like a great gaping abyss. And then her sister’s voice came – sound waves that crept apprehensively to her ears: “I… I didn’t know I was making it harder.” Jessica mumbled. The silence was broken.

Yet after that simple short statement, the silence resumed with full vigour, as thought it was never before interrupted. Gwendolyn opened her mouth to speak as she realised the truth of Jessica’s words, but there were no words on her tongue. She closed her mouth again.

The birds twittered in the trees.

“Jessica… can you see the birds? Would you describe them to me?” Gwendolyn asked tentatively. There was no knowing what could happen next, whether her sister would be angry at this invitation, or take it and try to patch things up. And then as her sister’s exuberant voice rose again after an agonising pause, Gwendolyn smiled.