arashi

I DIDN'T WANT the dandelion to be blown away. I was hoping for it to remain intact. But it didn't. When the breeze grew harsher, it let go of all its little fluffs. And for some reason, that made me want to cry.

But I obviously didn't. I can only visualize how uneasy Tassel would feel if I randomly burst into tears. Especially after she pointed out that I was staring at her lips. I'm more embarrassed than I'd like to be.

"Let's solve the fourth question together," Tassel says after the long pause that resulted from my question. 

"Yeah," I say, not really wanting to. If even my head was in it, these questions are way too hard for me.

When I told Tassel about answers being fated to questions, I was thinking about the dandelion. How it managed to stay intact for a long time, unlike the rest of its kind out there on the field. As if there was a string of fate holding on to its little ones. But then it ripped. The little ones flew away, breaking off from what held them together.

My mother used to talk about fate a lot. She believed that not just couples or lovers, but everything in the world is connected with red strings of fate. From a lyric to its tune, to an answer to its question. And even a wall to its colour. That's why, she always used to pick out the colours as carefully as she could before painting houses.

I recall what Dad used to call Mom often to tease her. "Prism," I say out loud, laughing quietly. "He used to call her Prism."

"Who used to call whom Prism?" Tassel suddenly asks, bringing me out of my head. 

I don't mind what I'm revealing, but it's bothering me that words are randomly slipping out of my mind. "Dad used to call Mom that," I answer. Since I've already started it, I don't see why I shouldn't explain it to her entirely.

"That's so cute," Tassel beams, smiling widely. "But why Prism?"

"Dad said, and I quote, 'She shows me that the things I see in white are actually coloured bombs invisibly exploding.' " I say, smiling at the memory. 

I remember my seven-year old self asking him, "Like what, Dad? What do you see in white?" 

I was confused. Everything around us was of different hues. What did Dad see as just white?

"Myself," he answered. "I used to think I was plain white. And then your mother came along and showed me how I looked dispersed."

"That's so cheesy, Scott!" Mom shouted from the kitchen. 

The conversation had left me even more confused back then, but I knew it was something special because it made both of them happy. It made me shout, "I wanna be Prism too!"

My parents laughed, encouraging me at the same time. 

But it's only since the last month I've realized the gravity of it. I've seen what Dad went through. His glass prism shattered too soon, and he lost sight of the colours he once believed were his. I tried to talk to him, but he shut himself away. And I realized, being a prism is easier said than done.

"You're Mom sounds beautiful, Arashi," Tassel says. She brings her knees closer to her chest and rests her chin on them, and then smiles even bigger. I wonder if this is the look she shows Lance when they talk. Because damn, she looks pretty. "I wanna be a prism now," she says, the pretty smile still plastered on her face.

"That's nice," I say, smiling back at her and my memory.

"Let's both try, okay?" she says, giving her hand. 

I give her mine and we shake them. "Yeah."

The bell goes off. Tassel starts to put her stuff back into her bag. Once she's done, she turns to me. "Let's go eat."

My eyes shift towards the dandelion again.

"I'll join you after five minutes," I say. Without asking a question, Tassel nods and leaves.

I get up from my place and pluck out the dandelion shoot lying just outside the shadow of the tree. It tries to fly out of my grasp. 

Tears well up in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I talk to the tiny shoot. For all the times I brushed off your symptoms as overthinking. For all the times you wanted a companion but I was too busy to spend time with you in the hospital. For all the times I relentlessly let my temper out on you.

Looking at the dandelion, I let my tears roll down quietly, as if I'm crying to a spirit.

During what were her last few days, I had a fight with Mom. It was mostly me releasing my anger on her. I had failed a test for the first time in my life. To top it off, a boy had accidentally hit a tennis ball right at my stomach, making me barf. When I went to the hospital to visit Mom, I lost it when she said what happened was okay, it's not a big deal. Things go on and you will too.

I clutch at the soft, green stem and wipe off the stray tears. Watching the huddled up plant lie on the tip of my wet fingers, I then place it carefully near the base of the mango tree. 

It'll be nice, I think, if my mother gets reincarnated as a dandelion.

Dad's finally moving on, so I need to too. We're going to have to let our memories turn us into prisms instead of devoured matter. Just like the fluffs that once adorned this flower, the strings that connected our fate with Mom have loosened now. And just like those fluffs, we'll have to fly around until we find a new thread we can tie ourselves on.

Things go on and we will too.

🎕

The last period ends. I go to my lockers and take out the books I'll be needing at home today, stashing them into my bag. 

Nash meets up with me. "Yo, Ara."

"Shi," I complete, for the umpteenth time.

"We're having a Halloween party next weekend. Wanna come?" he invites.

I'm not sure if I'd like to be surrounded by vivid dancing teenagers, but I am in the mood of gutting down some alcohol. It shouldn't be a problem as long as I don't stay for too long.

"I'll think about it," I say. "Is Tassel going?"

"No, she never attends parties," he speaks, not missing a beat.

"Why?"

"Sometimes she says she doesn't like them and sometimes she says her parents didn't allow her."

"Oh, okay."

"So are you still going to come?" Nash raises his eyebrows, smirking. "Or do you need her with you?"

"I think I will," I say, ignoring the look on his face. "Is it a costume party?"

"Yeah, it is. You can dress up as a mummy 'cause your hand and head's already bandaged," he tells, pointing at them.

I give him a poker face. "Ha ha," I whisper, monotonously.

"Take my number," he says. "Tell me if you're gonna go. I can pick you up if you want."

"Sounds good," I smile, as I give him my phone. Judging by the time he takes amount of typing he does, he isn't giving only his number. When I get my phone back, I see that he's saved his contact with the name <3Nashyyy<3. 

Before I can say something, he quickly parts ways. I walk to the parking lot and search for Dad. I find him leaning on our car, his suit and tie as impeccable as ever. He sees me and waves.

"Let's eat out today. I don't feel like cooking," he rustles, as we get inside.

I buckle my seat belt. "Fine, but where?"

"Let's see. What do you want to eat?"

"Anything except pizza works. You made, like, twenty pizzas in the last week."

Dad laughs. "Okay, no pizzas."

As I think of dinner, I realize I'm feeling hungry right now. I'd normally stop at Ramsey's for a snack before going home, but ever since Dad's been picking me up, it's not been happening. "Let's get a snack first. There's a good café at the corner of the street," I offer.

"Sure," Dad smiles. 

I direct him to Ramsey's. He parks the car in a suitable site, and then we head out. I tell him I'll order for the both of us because I'm the one who comes here often. "Of course, master," he bows and ushers me to the counter. I go there, laughing embarrassingly.

Just as I'm done placing an order of two ham and cheese sandwiches, my notification icon rings. It's Bryan, I presume. 

I walk over to the place where Dad's sitting and check my phone. I'm pleasantly surprised. It's not Bryan who's texted, it's Tassel. I almost forgot that I gave her my number during English class today.

Hi

It's Tassel 

Smiling at the screen, I reply in an instant.

Hey

:)

What are you doing?

Hanging out with my dad at Ramsey's

Ah that's cool

I go there with my Dad sometimes too

They have amazing salmon and tuna sandwiches

You've gotta try them some time

Ok, I will

I like fish so it might be good for my palate

Ah is that so?

I don't like fish lol

I only eat shrimps and the salmon tuna sandwich

Oh

Lol

"What are you smiling at? Bryan?" Dad asks from across the table.

"No," I reply. "A friend from Portmouth."

He brings his hands together. "That's nice. Is it a boy or girl?"

I stare. I don't like where it's heading. "Girl," I say, cautiously.

"That's nicer," he says, lowering his voice. 

"Dad."

"Yeah?"

"She's my friend."

"For now."

I sigh, trying not to seem to snobby. Luckily, our order comes at that moment, so I eat away my agitation. Dad subtly teases me for the rest of the time period, and I am left with no choice but to hiss him quiet. The notification goes off once again. Dad laughs. I laugh too for now, realizing that it's the first time in years the two of us are having fun together.

☀ ☀ ☀

Hey guys! The Colours We Give has hit 1K reads!! I've gotten used to seeing stories with 100K reads, but this 1K on mine feels a little weird to me. A good weird, nonetheless.

And of course, it's all because of you readers. Thank you for showing it so much love, even when it's raw and unedited. You've encouraged me a lot, and I guess it's safe for me to feel like I've gotten a tiny but genuine family. 

Who needs a boyfriend when you have such wonderful friends supporting your story. I love you guys so much <3

As always, keep VOTING and COMMENTING (and pointing out my mistakes because editing on my own is boring)! 

Again, thank you and love you.

Lots of hope,

Genesee

:) 

<3