Robin's Rainbow

Creative Writing demanded a love story, and this is what I crafted.

            I’ve never lost anyone, nor have I gained them back before. My life was black and white; but then it grew into shades of red. Red as the hair of Robin, my ex.

            Pink is the shade of cherry-blossoms and wisps of early sunrise. Pink was the color of his cheeks after he crashed into me. It was his first day in the city, and we just happened to be at Barnes and Nobles at the perfect moment. He spilled his coffee on me, leaving dark stains on my shirt. He apologized profusely and compared himself to a bat. ‘I’m blind as a bat.’ Funny how my bad habit started the most passionate memories I hold dear.

            “Bats aren’t blind. They just can’t see well at night.” I growled as he dabbed the coffee out. He laughed at me.

            “If that’s true, then bats can fly circles around me.” He said with a smile. “I’m still sorry. I owe you one… erm… how about the zoo? I haven’t seen a bat in years.”

            “I hardly even know your name.” I replied, surprised at how well he took my criticism.

            “Robin.”

            “Like Batman and Robin.”

            “Now you’re just teasing me.”

 

            Going to the zoo in fall is beautiful, not only because of the exotic animals, but also, every potted plant changing colors. They left behind their green skin to wear the bright oranges and raging reds of beauty. I found him sitting by the lions, looking depressed. He sagged over a scarlet heart shaped box and a bouquet of red roses, all perfect and in their prime.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked. He looked up in shock, mouth stuttering and trying to get his brain to start turning wheels again.

            “T-there are no bats here.” He spat out finally. “In San Diego we have a bat exhibit-“

            “Who are the flowers for?” I asked next, sort of teasing him. Robin turned as red as his roses.

            “They’re for you.” He replied softly. I was never used to gifts growing up; my friends have a cycle of compensation, and my family expected me to pay for everything in some way or another… but Robin’s roses seemed like they came from nowhere. They were a true token of generosity. Maybe it was because of the roses, but I began to fall in love with him.

           

            Winter went by so quickly, and we just grew closer; buds becoming intertwined roses. I learned that Robin like to build things, like theatre sets and even made his own fireworks. Of course, it didn’t mean he was perfect. He owed a lot of money since he moved to little El Paso, so he hoarded every dollar he could get a hold of. Still, I was in love with him. He made a firework display for New Years, and saved me a seat in the perfect place to watch it.

            “Trust me.” He said, then ran off to start the show. I sat there, messing with a bracelet that he gave me for Christmas; golden hearts with rubies inside dangled on the chain. He knew that my favorite shape was a heart, and though the bracelet was small, I knew that it earned more praise than a palace. Minutes left, then hours fled, and though the display was beautiful, I started to feel lonely. I sat alone until the finale, a volley of fireworks that exploded with the grace of ballerinas. I stood up to leave, when one solitary firework went up, and exploded into a gorgeous heart. I sat down, stunned as they blared out the dedications. There came Robin, with a huge smile on his face.

            “Did you like it?” He asked.

            “I… I love you…”

 

            February came, a time for love as fierce as a fire and as sweet as a baby’s pink cheeks. It was also the month that Robin… I get too far ahead. I was in the house ‘til ten, unable to find anything to make for breakfast. Robin sat at the table, painting a small boat black. Eggs and milk.

            “I’m going to the store.” I said, getting my purse. I left to get eggs and milk, innocent to the future. He nodded, absorbed in his work, like usual. He worked so hard that his skin would turn red and burn almost every sunny day. It seemed that he was made for the night, just like Batman and Robin… he never had the chance to be my hero. I came home to find red. The walls were smeared and there were puddles on the floor of bright… red… blood. Robin lie bruised and beaten, his black boat thrown across the room. There was a note on his still chest, and I opened it with a shaky finger.

            “Pay your debts.” It said.

 

            After the funeral, my aunt invited me to stay at her house in Dallas, so I could get away from it all. I accepted. In Dallas it rained a lot with obsidian clouds and a blue gloominess about it. It matched my tears perfectly. I spent the days alone, drinking when I thought too much about him… of course it didn’t help. I sat outside and watched the rain every night, and even often fell asleep on the wicker chair on my patio. Dark days, and silent nights.

 

            I fell asleep looking at the moon. Valentines day, exactly 13 days since Robin’s death, but it felt like wintery white years. Ghost of happiness floated around in my mind, and seeped into my violet-clouded dreams. I dreamed about his fireworks and wished, silently, in my heart, that I could see them again. Morning’s light woke me, and my eyes fluttered open. The sun was rising, and the canvas that is the sky, Robin’s canvas, wasn’t just blue or black anymore. It was flooded by a rainbow of colors, from the coolest blue to the richest burgundy. They were colors that even expert craftsman, who’s hands focused on fireworks, could never have access to… and I realized that he wasn’t gone; he was in the sky, higher than the flight of the bat and alongside his art. Every dusk and dawn, he is above me, complimenting our love with the rainbow.