The Color of Grief

I crushed the cigarette in the ash tray on my desk as I reminisced on the world that once was full of light, hope, dreams, and color.

My God there were so many colors.

Now all that was left were shades and shadows. The smoke from the ashes looked like the last gasp of humanity trying to hold on to something. Everyone is going around trying to get on with their lives, trying to make sense of it all.

Red was the first to go. I remember hearing a siren blaring only to see it come from a grey fire truck flying through the intersection responding to an accident down the block. I thought something was wrong with my vision. Turns out, I was beginning to see for the very first time. We were being punished. By who? Hell if I know. All I know is that we didn’t deserve the brightness we were born into.

“Mr. Stephens?” Little Tina asked while raising her hand.

“What is it?” I said.

“You know you can’t smoke in the classroom. Ms. Powell came in here and told you yesterday. We were all here, we saw,” she said matter-of-factly.

Little Tina, the “Little Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes” in my class. Of course I know I can’t smoke here. And that Ms. Powell, don’t get me started on her. She told me the best thing we can do for the kids is to provide a sense of normalcy. And it was very important that I be a positive influence in these trying times. Ain’t nothing normal about everything in black and white sweetheart.

My fifth grade students looked at me, waiting for a response. I looked at their colorless faces and clothes. I wish I had an explanation for them. As to why their future would be full of sadness.

“I think he’s doing that inner monologue thing again,” said Tommy from his desk at the back of the class.

“What’s an inner monologue?” asked Kristen.

“Oh yeah, you’re new here,” said Tommy. “Mr. Stephens now acts like a detective in the old movies from the 1940s. That’s how my dad puts it. He’s the only teacher in our school who wears a suit and tie. The smoking is new, though.”

I see Tommy talking to the other kids in the class, but I don't hear a thing. I’m consumed every waking moment by the thought that this is life now. Everything that was beautiful is now dull and pointless. I need to know why this happened. No one seems to care. I feel like the only sane man left in the world.

The bell rings signaling time for recess. Not a moment too soon.

“Alright kids, head out in an orderly fashion,” I said. “When you come back we will continue our lesson on…the next subject for today.”

Good save.

All the kids filed out to the playground. That is except for Little Tina. She stayed in her chair looking down at her desk through her oversized glasses. Probably the size of the bifocals weighing her head down.

“What’s the matter Tina?” I asked. “Why don’t you go outside and play?”

“I don’t feel like it,” she muttered.

“Why not?”

“I’m sad,” she said.

Finally, a little honesty from someone.

“It’s okay to be sad, Tina,” I said. “In fact, I think you and I might be the last rational people left. For the life of me, I can’t understand why people are pretending what’s happening isn’t happening.”

“You mean the colors?” Tina asked.

“Yes of course, Tina.” I said. “I’m talking about the colors. What else would there be? Now I know you kids are having a hard time processing what’s going on. But I promise, I will find out what happened.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes. Trying to hide the fact she was crying. Such a brave little girl.

“How about you go play with your friends?” I said. “I’m sure the new girl, Kristen, would like someone to play with.”

“Okay,” she said. “But will you come outside with me?”

I thought about it. I could use this time to begin my investigation, but I supposed it could wait a little longer.

“Sure,” I said as I got up from my desk.

“Thank you,” she said as her little hand reached for mine. “I don’t like you sitting in here by yourself. And you don’t even like smoking.”

That’s an odd thing for her to assume.

I sat on the bench just outside the playground. I loosened my tie and opened my collar. The sun didn’t shine anymore but you could still feel the heat emanating from it. I watched as the kids chased each other around, playing whatever silly game kids are playing these days. I really admire the resilience of children. The world could be falling apart around them, but get them outside with their friends and all the terribleness fades away and ceases to exist.

“Hello, Michael.”

I turned to see who it was approaching. It was Ms. Powell.

“I ain’t smoking, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I said.

“That’s great Michael, I'm happy for you, I guess,” she said. “And ‘ain’t’ isn’t a thing. You’ve been a teacher for a long time. You should know that.”

I could understand the children’s unwillingness or inability to process what is happening around them. But adults, especially those in a leadership position, it’s unforgivable. When history asks what we did at this moment, I’ll be damned if the books say “Sorry, everybody just stuck their heads in the sand.”

“I think it’s time we acknowledge the truth,” Ms. Powell said.

Could Ms. Powell really be involved? I’ve never trusted her, but I would never imagine her being part of a world-wide conspiracy.

“You came back to work too soon,” Ms. Powell said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“After what happened to Heather,” she said. “You weren’t ready to come back. And I was a fool for letting you.”

I stood up to walk away. What the hell was Ms. Powell getting on about?

“Please, Michael,” she said. “Don’t go. I need you to listen to me.”

I sat back down on the bench. It probably wouldn’t amount to much, but maybe a lead to something bigger in my investigation.

“We are all grieving, Michael,” Ms. Powell said. “We all loved Heather. She was such an amazing teacher. And the children, Michael, the children loved her too. Especially Tina.”

“Little Tina?” I said.

“That’s the one,” Ms. Powell said. “Heather was so good with Tina in the school play last year. Do you remember? Tina was so scared to be a part of it. But Heather instilled the confidence in her to be the lead role.”

“That can’t be true,” I said. “I was just with her in the classroom. She’s upset about everything going on and how no one is talking about it!”

“Come on, Michael,” she said. “Tina can see in color. In fact, we can all see in color. This has to stop. Tina is upset because her favorite teacher died in a car accident and her favorite teacher’s husband has been acting like a fucking lunatic!”

“No!” I shouted. I got up from the bench. I could feel all the kids looking at us. I started off towards the parking lot. But an image slammed into my mind – roses. A big beautiful bouquet of red roses. I saw myself holding them as I met the most beautiful woman I ever saw outside a restaurant. All I really knew about her was that she was the new teacher at the school I worked at and her favorite color was red. And for some reason, she agreed to go out with me.

My face fell into my hands as I sat back down on the bench. I steadied my breath before I spoke again a couple minutes later.

“I wore this suit the night of our first date,” I said, looking at Ms. Powell. “After dinner, I took her to the theater that plays all the old classics.. There was a showing of The Maltese Falcon. Heather had never seen it and I’m a big Humphrey Bogart fan.”

“And you’ve worn it every day for the last week,” Ms. Powell said.

“Is that so?” I said as I completely removed my tie and put it in the inside jacket pocket.

“She was glowing when I saw her the next morning after your first date,” Ms. Powell said. “I knew you would end up together.”

“I just miss her so much,” I said, doing my best to hold back tears. But it was of no use.

The kids had resumed their activities on the playground. The bell rang to usher everyone back to class. I smiled at the kids as they ran to class.

“Can you cover me the rest of the day?” I asked.

“Take as much time as you need,” Ms Powell said.

Before I stood up, I looked back at the playground and yelled out a sound that was a mix of shock and laughter.

“What is it?!” Ms. Powell said.

I couldn't find the words to describe to her what I felt. But I could see the color of the structure in the playground. It was red.