Television

My grandad used to tell me about color television. He'd meander off in his thinking, I’d wait for him, he would mumble a little more of this and that, then clear as a bell he would say he could actually close his eyes and see “IT”.

" It’s like a cherry or an apple"

“Whats like a cherry or apple gramps”?

“IT” was always his reply

I tried to imagine it, what ever it, was, first a cherry only black, then an apple only black. I’d scrunch my eyes closed hard put both my fists over them.

“Well,”? he would intone.

‘Yeah, I guess gramps” just to appease him he would smile and nod.

“Yup like a cherry” off to sleep he would go.

“Color television huh crazy coot”

"Honey I got to go to work" the routine morning thing, she wasn't here, hadn’t been for what maybe three years, they only let them stay for a few years, even if you had fallen in love. I Sat a few minutes stared at the colorless fork in my hand, the black and white man on the black and white television, sitting in its tiny little corner on the colorless counter reminding me to take my day allowance of mumbo jumbo his words trailed off. I Closed my eyes tight, listened to him urged color into his voice.

"Honey I'll be a little late after work" I repeated only quieter.

Dishes into the washer, single white cup, single white plate, push the stainless chair into its slot under the stainless table, door open, light off.

"See you later baby”. “uh love you" I urged.

I had to keep the charade up it was all I had. I wondered if she did the same thing, wondered if she was ok, if our son was ok, wondered if others did it too. It hurt, if you asked, I could tell you what color loneliness was.

Men in white shirts and black suits, shuffled papers where I worked. My papers were always stamped with a big black rejected. My dad used to tell me that the stamp used to be red, like grandad he could remember “IT”. Crazy ran in my family. They gave me his job when they made him retire, he would tell me sometimes he could close his eyes and remember “IT”, deep red like a rose. I tried to see it, stare at the obviously black REJECTED, scrunched my eyes, cmon a color any color, open eyes stare again scrunch, clench my fists urge something, even grey would be something right. I realized it had been several minutes of imagining, I popped my eyes open shuffled papers and looked around the room afraid someone might see me trying to conjure a color up, checked the other men's eyes see if they were trying to see color. Nothing, all were shuffling paper, sipping tasteless black coffee from pure white cups, under the big black ceiling fan, it made it's woosh, woosh, the motor droned. I shuffled papers, page ten, the summary page from its pile, then the names and signatures page, page nine from its pile on top, page eight, on top, page seven down to page one REJECTED. Each packet stapled then into the slot in front of my stainless-steel desk to be sucked into oblivion. If you asked me what color monotony was, I could tell you.

Home was the same, every evening, same man on the same television, same dinner from the same stainless refrigerator.

"Hun, can I get you anything" I called up the stairs. "Before I go to bed" trailed off.

No, no no in my head I have to keep going.

"OK, YEAH IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY" I thought loud enough for the neighbor to hear, made me smile. Huh wow a smile. I can't remember smiling, that felt nice I thought. I wonder what color a smile is.

Yes, it was something, I am sure I'd heard it, don't turn on the light, yeah there it was again, my mind raced what do I have to protect myself, the thought of having to protect myself made me pause, protect myself, no one was supposed to be out after ten pm. There it was again; the kitchen chair being moved. I pushed the bedroom door open, lights on in the kitchen. I squinted as I walked in.

An older black man, sat, with my white coffee cup, sipping my black coffee, in my stainless kitchen wearing a dark blue suit. I blinked looked to the side to check the small room looked at him again yes not black, blue, Was it blue, my mind was playing tricks on me, was it blue, or black? The man smiled.

"May I help you" I tried to sound tough, " how did you get in here" knowing full well no one locked the doors. My question should have been how did you get here and not get picked up by the protection forces.

"Yes son" he said "it's blue". Matter of factly.

My mind started racing, how did he know I was thinking that, of course everyone probably had the same reaction to him, I shook my head to clear it yes dreaming, dreaming of course, dreaming only colors in dreams, maybe. I felt a bit sick to my stomach. He looked at me with his brown eyes his words were like a small song, melodic, mesmerizing,

"It's ok son sit down".

He looked and realized there were no other chairs, he stood came over and gently, hand on my shoulder urged me into the chair. Still dreaming, still dreaming, telling myself I couldn’t feel his hand. I watched him in his very almost black suit, go to the cupboard to retrieve the only other white cup, her white cup I urged myself to wake up, blinked my eyes, looked around I could smell the coffee. He placed the cup under the spout pushed the pour button on the machine. Was it a gold bracelet, dangling just under the cuff. He saw my eyes, smiled.

"Yeah it's gold. Color of honey.” He said.

My brow furrowed as I tried to imagine what that meant, what does that mean the color of honey oozed around in my head I thought all old men are crazy, still dreaming.

“No not dreaming son” his words caught me off guard. He looked so familiar. The black and white man from my black and white television.

I wanted to get up, the urge to escape the room took over, no no I can't go outside, they will catch me, I paced toward the front room the front door, maybe the neighbor,he would just call the cops already thinks Im crazy, no no the thoughts raced, panic struck, I gotta get out,

" I have to go" my voice trembled. " I have to go sir" a little louder but still full of fear.

"Go where" he sang."Out" he motioned with the coffee cup toward the door. Did he have a silver tooth? He smiled. Yes it was silver.

"You know what's out there" he sipped black coffee in his almost black suit with the gold chain dangling, through a smile with a silver tooth.

"You can go if you like, no one is really stopping you, it's the drug your taking every day that makes you believe" in his smooth matter of fact melodious silver colored voice.

The calmness in his voice struck me, the warmth of it really. Drug I thought. Every morning, right before I yell up the stairs the black and white man, this man on the black and white television would remind me to take my daily dose, and I do, except not the last few mornings.

" please sit down son, everything is going to be ok"

I sat he filled my cup.

He continued "It’s the same for a lot of folks, at some point life takes a turn the routine is so routine, the monotony is so monotonous" he paused, looked up head cocked chuckled. " monotony so monotonous" more to himself his smile got bigger.

He went on "Our minds so much want to get back to reality, he paused a long pause.

"Yes she is ok, and so is your son, and yes she yells up the stairs every morning, just like you do, just like everyone does" he stopped to let it sink in.

The breath left me, the tears started, I’m sure my heart stopped beating. As I pondered the feelings, colorless happy, sad, pain, joy, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the heart shaped locket. Sat it on the table in front of my cup.

“It” was red.

"Yes its red" he said. "open “IT" he whispered " "Go ahead."

Inside was a small red pill, cherry colored pill. I'm sure he could tell by the look on my face I didn't quite understand. He stood in the corner of my stainless kitchen, in his almost black suit, adjusted his gold bracelet and peered into the white cup at the last drops of coffee.

"Now that you have seen a little color, the next point in your life is to take the pill" he swirled the cup quaffed the last of his tasteless coffee. "It will be ok son".

"Are you up honey" then "C’mon I have extra coffee."

No one was coming they had taken her a while back, I said it to stay sane. I turned the somehow familiar black and white man on the black and white TV off.

"I'm going to be a little late after work this evening, love you" the words didn't hurt as much.

If you asked me what the color of love was I'd say red like an apple or maybe a cherry. I squinted my eyes closed them extra tight, nope nothing, laughing to myself all old men are crazy.