Finding Color

"Shit, sorry! I didn't know you were there." I must look startled--which I kind of am, to be honest--because the guy's standing there with the most concerned look on his face. He runs a hand through his slightly long, raven hair, narrowing a pair of hazel eyes. "You alright?" I know he's not going to stop talking until I give him some sort of affirmation, and since I'm not really in the mood to talk, I give him a curt nod. I'm about to brush past him into the crowded room when his voice stops me. "I haven't seen you here before." When I don't respond, he adds, "I'm Gerard."

In obligation, I reply, "Lilah. And, uh, yeah. I've never been here."

He smiles warmly at me, showing off a row of small, pearly teeth. "I was nervous my first time too. Don't worry; you'll get used to it. Mark will probably just let you listen this time anyways. He's reasonable, you know? He won't expect you to talk much."

My brain, too alight with sirens to actually process anything he's saying to me, is hardly capable of being thankful at the moment. But his eyes, reading me like I'm a walking tragedy, expectantly demand my mouth to formulate words. "Does the meeting start now?"

"Yes."

"But you're leaving."

"I'm not anymore."

I take a step back and cross my arms at his words. "What? Why?"

Nonchalantly, he shrugs. "I'm changing my mind."

"You're--"

"Gerard, are you and your friend joining us? We would like to start." I look past Gerard's now turned head into the room. A dozen or so people sit in a circle of chairs, including the middle-aged blond man looking expectantly at Gerard for his response. He simply shrugs and goes to sit at an empty chair. I follow, quite puzzled by both his behavior and my own somewhat detached mood, and sit myself next to s slightly overweight, but pretty, brunette. She casts an indifferent eye over me as the blonde man claps his hands together. "Well, first thing's first. We have a new face today who I'm sure would like to introduce herself."

No. "I'm Lilah."

"Hi Lilah, I'm Mark. Welcome to our group." When I don't respond, he adds, "Remember that we're here for you every step of the way during your recovery. We're glad you're all right." I hear a few disgruntled, but affirming grunts from several other group members. Gerard smiles warmly when our eyes meet. I look away.

"I don't need to recover." The words leave my mouth before I remember where I am. Unable to stop the endless stream of words escaping my mouth, as if I were vomiting, add, "I'm not like any of you."

The brunette next to me scoffs under her breath, muttering, "Join the club."

At her words, I feel the heat in my cheeks, and silently hope that the redness in my face is covered by a thin layer of makeup. Admittedly, maybe it's not the best thing I could have said upon being introduced to a group of depressives, and I feel the guilt and regret bubbling inside my throat already. As I open my mouth to apologize, Mark interjects, "Well since you're here, would you like to tell us about those feelings?" When I quickly shake my head no, he insists, "If you're really alright, you can leave."

The man knows how to bargain. After a moment of silent thought, I open my mouth, and lower my eyes to my hands.


"I'm not depressed. I don't even think I feel sad. I really don't know what I'm feeling. It's like numbness, but with more buzz. I feel like I'm thinking all the time. My brain feels tired and my head hurts, but I don't even know what I'm thinking about. I just feel dull and dazed all the time. Like I don't know what's going on and I don't care about finding out." I look up to meet the gazes of those in the group, and I momentarily stop thinking at their slightly bored, but understanding expressions. I look at Mark, who's staring at me with a full mask of sympathy. Absolutely not. I will not let them keep me here. The desperation in my voice is too obvious for my own comfort as I blink back tears. I'm fighting a losing battle and I know it. That doesn't stop me. "I know it's stupid, but I'm not depressed," I insist, silently pleading Mark to let me leave as my gaze pierces his, "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not."

"Where are you supposed to be then, Lilah?" Checkmate. He's got me, and he knows it. When I say nothing, he smiles gently at me, "I think this is a good start, Lilah, and I would like you to continue coming back. We can see where this goes in the coming weeks. I think this will be good for you after what's happened." My hope falls flat on its stomach. The only way I would've gotten Kit to let me leave this group is if I were dismissed. Now I'm stuck here in this pity party weekly. I slouch and stay quiet for the rest of the meeting, dejected, only breaking out of my own thoughts to shrug or shake my head at Mark's attempts to get me involved with the discussion. I'm not sure what progress he think's I've made today asides from embarrassing myself, but he seems pleased when he dismisses the group and casts a quick smile in my direction that's probably meant to be reassuring.


It is absolutely not reassuring.


I simply arm myself against the weather with my long coat , and quickly exit the room without saying goodbye. Striding past the elderly woman at the front desk, I'm almost home free and out of the community center when I hear my name frantically being called behind me. "Lilah, hey! Wait!" I stop dead in my tracks, consider turning around, consider continuing at an even quicker pace, dismiss the idea, try to think of a better plan to escape. Unfortunately, in all the time I take thinking without walking, my pursuer catches up with me as I hear, "Jesus Christ, you walk fast for such a small person," directly behind me. I whirl around, slightly alarmed, and see Gerard's friendly figure in front of me. His hair is ruffled and he's panting slightly, probably from having had to run down that hallway to catch up with me, but other than that, he looks quite put together, and quite handsome, I decide, albeit in a strange way.

After a few moments, he regains his breath, and I ask, "Did you need something from me?" I try to sound casual and friendly, but the words reveal their true colors of suspicion quite obviously. Luckily for me, he doesn't seem taken aback.

"I just wanted to tell you, it's not stupid."

I blink dumbly before I say, "What?"

"What you said in the group. You said it was stupid. It's not. At all." I can't read his expression, infuriatingly, but it doesn't seem like sympathy. He digs his hands into his coat pockets.

In response, I settle for, "Thank you."

He seems satisfied by this, but as I turn to leave, he calls me back. "Wait! I, uh, wanted to tell you that I hope you come back. It was really nice with you there. But in case you don't," his left hand digs around in his coat pocket for a few moments, before he pulls out a card, "I want you to call me anytime for anything." I stare at the card in his hand for a moment, not completely comprehending the definition of 'anything'. As if reading my mind, he gives the card in his hand a small shake in my direction, adding, "If you need someone to talk to, you know? Someone who understands. Or when you just want to go for coffee with someone. Well, if you want to. And if you like coffee."

"I like coffee." I affirm, staring at the card in his outstretched hand. I'm sure what exactly his offer is, or what accepting it will mean. I'm not interested in relationships, and I've hardly ever been severely invested in anybody. I would never want to accept his phone number and accidentally string him along. Hoping to communicate this, I clumsily add, "But only with friends."

"We can be friends." Gerard smiles warmly and it's oddly convincing. "My arm's getting tired." I quickly take the card out of his hand without looking at it. He smiles and turns to leave, waving and calling out a, "See you later!" over his shoulder. Bewildered, I remain behind in front of the information desk where the elderly woman behind it chuckles knowingly under her breath. Shaking my head as the noise snaps me out of thought, I walk into the chilled gust of air that had entered the warm building as Gerard had exited, and wonder what exactly I'm to tell Kit about what just happened.

Notes

So, I totally bailed on my plan to upload, like, every day. My life gets in the way of my writing sometimes, so I'm sorry about that. But I'll try to schedule to post a chapter at least once a week. Then we can see where this goes.

Another note, I'm always going to put a trigger warning at the beginning of every chapter, just because I really don't have a direction for this story and have no idea what each new chapter will hold. Plus, I don't know how sensitive everyone is to any type of content.

As always, comments, subscriptions, rates, and votes are always motivating. I have a really hard time getting motivated to do things sometimes, and the few comments I've gotten have really gotten me excited about this. s thanks to anyone who's commented/rated/subscribed/etc. already!

R.I.P. Leelah Alcorn

--Sparrow Delanuit