My Favourite Colour

1.

I had to replace the contents of the first aid kit. The plasters had expired during that year and we hadn’t noticed until they all spilt onto the floor, soaking up the remnants of that morning’s shower. Water split the sterile seals and they curled up like toes when you call your teacher ‘mummy’. I bought new everything on Amazon and carefully refilled the kit, making sure it all had an appropriate home. I loved this kit, a St. John Ambulance fabric bag in pine.

2.

I’ve been using the same paint – brand and colour – in all the homes I’ve lived in since moving out of home. My partner wanted lime, but we couldn’t have that. I told him it would trigger my migraines, which it probably would, but the real reason I vetoed it was because it reminded me of his childhood bedroom. It too, was lime green. The paint was unfinished where it met the roof and the floor, something which was easily noticeable in this nursery sized room. There was a single bed with a groaning frame that struggled under the dog’s weight. The mattress was hard and had no fitted sheet, allowing the decades of stains to be clearly displayed. He had a desk with the only five items he owned proudly displayed. A bear from childhood, a cheap metal cat that was designed to be a garden ornament, a crystal skull from the Indiana movie and two framed bits of memorabilia from his christening. He was and still is an atheist. Next to the desk was a mostly empty chest of drawers, one of those ‘build it yourself’ types from a place like Ikea. The east-facing window had no curtain or blinds. He warned me about the neighbour who liked to watch him sleep.

3.

His sister’s room was the largest of three ‘non-master bedroom’ rooms. She had a soft mattressed double bed housed in a luxurious wooden frame. The bed was layered in colourful sheets, mostly barbie-pink. The floor heaved with soft toys and from the door I could see her wardrobe was sweating from the strain. She had floor to ceiling blackout curtains for a window that never faced the sun. She wasn’t living there anymore; her parents had paid to send her to a private agriculture school so she could pursue her horse-riding passion. She had been kitted out since childhood with all the equipment and horses her parents bought for her. Yes, there was more than one horse.

4.

The third bedroom was for guests. In the past his grandparents would stay in this room, but they hadn’t visited for years. His grandmother would later tell me she was fed up with always being the one to spend a fortune visiting them, while they refused to reciprocate. I noticed over the years that this was a pattern for his parents. The room had another double bed, with a wood and metal frame. Luxurious dark purple sheets flowed over the edges in a way that would make Dionisius salivate. There was an empty wardrobe and beautiful curtains that faced the same sunless side of the house.

5.

His house was a mess of colour. Dark purple, bright yellow, ruby red, ocean blue. Not a beige in sight. The only green in the house, however, was in his room. And it was lime green.

6.

He didn’t like the colour, at first, saying that it made the living room look like a dentist’s office. But now that we’re onto house number three, he’s come around to liking it. The colour is a pale mint and it reminds me of Australia’s silver plants. Astelia banksia, Conostylis candicans and the Eucalyptus megacarpa after the leaves have shrivelled in the summer, ready for the burn.

7.

Mum always said she couldn’t live surrounded by houses. One side of the home, minimum, needed to face something living. And when that wasn’t enough, she went out in her night dress and drilled with her hands into the earth until it sprouted the life she had, all her years alive, craved to nurture and watch grow.

8.

I can’t stand living somewhere surrounded by houses. One side of the home, minimum, must face something living. The first house failed in this regard, but the beautiful garden made up for that inadequacy. A wall of flowers, creeping vines I’d carefully trained to cover the fence and a lush lawn completed my squared joy. The second house faced a giant bank of trees over which, windmills spun. The third had a diamond of shrubs with one white flowering tree at its heart. The cats loved this one the most, making it their clubhouse.

9.

My teacup

The picture above my bed

A pack of Free From Jammy Wheels

A copy of The Anatomy of Greif

Bambuds tucked under my screen

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday of my Nomad

The witches’ i on my Wicked mug

Citrus on my lunch

The Waterstone’s loyalty card, still in its carboard sleeve

My eyes

10.

We are having a late-night conversation, sitting together on opposite sides of my hospital bed. I have had a bad day. Unfiled memories again. The never ending ‘last bow’ before returning to the stage one more time. We get to the part in the show when I walk into his bedroom for the first time and realised something was horribly wrong. Only later do I learn about the abuse and neglect, which he shared openly – not realising that it was abnormal. Only later did his mother, drunk again, abused him in front of me. I was pinned to the couch by the hands of all my hurt and to this day, still felt responsible, because I had not called the police. When I spoke about the walls, he said…

11.

“I love lime green. It’s my favourite colour. I was allowed to pick it myself. I could have any colour, and I chose lime green. It was one of the few things that was mine.”

12.

A shade of guilt.

13.

At night I’d sometimes have the strength to roll over. When I did, I’d face the blinking green light of my screen. It was a small rectangle, inset into the bottom edge of the plastic. I tapped to the light. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. It’s better than counting sheep, I reasoned. Or counting backward from one hundred. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. I knew what to expect. No wolves, no lapses in where I was. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. A dripping faucet, a ball bouncing on each step downward, footsteps at night. Tap, Ta… I won’t go back to sleep tonight.

14.

He cut his toe, again. This time chasing after the cats. Our girl jolted away into their clubhouse, tail high, and he stupidly tripped in after her. After a few minutes he returned, cat in arms and blood dripping on the carpet. I take the first aid kit and open the packaging for the first time. The plasters are bright blue, so that they can be easily spotted. I clean the wound and wrap the toe carefully. I missed the old plasters. They were my favourite colour.