Liliane: Blue

Friday, December 22 2215, 14:00, Auckland, New Zealand

“We’re famous,” Aidan tells me. I stop chewing for a moment and stare at the television. The news reporter is holding two photos, one of Aidan and one of me. In my photo I am dressed in a lacey green top with dark skinny jeans, posing with my sister at the summit of Hale Mountain.

Apparently New Zealanders consider us as “in need”. Police officers, upon recognizing our faces, have contacted us once we stepped out of the airport and bundled us into a small room at the Hyatt Hotel inAuckland. A fresh graduate from university has approached us through the hotel intercom service, requesting an interview with the daughter of the ACP chairman. Everywhere we go, local people reward us with pitying looks and sympathetic expressions.

I hate my life. Wrong. I used to hate it. Now I’m not so sure. If there’s one word that sums up my change, it’s “Aidan”. Aidan, who can be humorous without trying. Aidan, who always knows how I feel. Aidan, who is candid, honest, and tells me everything. My memories of him in Hale College are all bright and cheerful. To me it’s remarkable that he can continue being positive, believing in miracles for everything to turn out fine. When I ask him how he does it, he answers mysteriously in French, “continuer d'espérer”.

Now, I try not to groan as we enter the Auckland Police Headquarters for the ninth time in four days. This time, it’s Officer James Mainzer who greets us, with an envelope in hand. Aidan rips it open without a word.

It’s the opportunity to call home. Written by my father, penned my mother. They’re not going to forgive me for running away. But what harm can it be? Aidan asks me. Alright, I say.

My mother answers after eleven rings. I listen to her voice, stomach queasy with nervousness. I wonder what she’s been through, how she’s feeling, if she misses me. Ultimately I decide, against my better judgment, that she cares.

“I’m in Auckland. I’m fine,” I say neutrally. Apart from stating the obvious, there is nothing I want to tell her.

Her reply is surprising sarcastic. “I bet you are, running off with a criminal like that.”

My brows shoot up. “Mom, you know I never planned this,” I defend myself, face ashen. “I would have told you.”

There is a clang when she drops her phone. Then I hear venomous laughter, followed by a cold accusation�" “You thought I was part of it, didn’t you? So you ran away and left your poor mother to be blamed for the murder?”

My mouth goes dry. What is she talking about?

A litany of vicious swearing can be heard at the other end of the line. “Your darling servant became suspicious,” she says acidly. “She thought someone had poisoned your sister. And somehow I was the one to blame!” My mother screams the last words at me.

Tears well up in my eyes as I move the phone further from my ear. It’s your fault. It’s your fault you didn’t even try to save your sister.

“I hate you. I never loved you. You would have sensed, if you had a brain, that I was just trying to prevent you from spreading tales about your blasted family. You could have saved your sister if you tried. But you didn’t. If you would only stop for a moment, and look in the mirror, you’d realize what a stupid idiot you are. How I wish you were gone, rotting away in the pits of hell, just like your mad sister!” She ends her speech, and my ears ring from the sonorous reverberation of the earsplitting bang as she slams the phone down.

I hang up, breaking down in despairing sobs and jagged breaths. A river of tears flood out, impeding my sight. Aidan and Officer Mainzer reach out simultaneously to comfort me as the phone clatters onto the floor. I shove them away violently and run to the ladies’ room where I can be alone. I blink through my tears and peer out the window next to the sinks. The sky, light and cheerful minutes ago, is now a dizzying shade of electric blue.

~

Friday, December 22 2215, 15:09, Auckland, New Zealand

Back in my hotel room, I take off my diamond necklace and finger each stone with care and precision. Sunlight, cascading in, bounces off the pellucid jewels and catapults onto the mahogany table. Drained puddles of tears are barely visible on the carpet floor, having dried away in the past ten minutes.

It’s hard not to be fed up by all this mess. It’s harder not to blame yourself for everything that has occurred�"after all, what have you done to prevent it from happening? My soul was white, and then black, and then grey. My life was a glass painting of all dull colors imaginable. It’s been shattered into a million pieces, each remnant too fragile to be repaired. Creased, broken, damaged, I hold onto the largest deepest remaining fragment, with hope as my last and only defense. 

I cannot cry. I cannot break. In this fast-paced modern world there is nothing anyone can do. I have two options. I can surrender everyone intent on making my life a misery. To let go is the easiest way out, yet the most cowardly. I am so far gone there can be reason to submit to fate. Forget the rainbow colors�"I am merely black and white.

But when I look at my necklace my certainty fades away. Hayley loved me. She knew she was going to die, but she held on to her life, thinking that nothing could turn out so badly. Everything seemed so joyful, so positive, when she was still around. In retrospect, I appeared to be quite pessimistic. I never thought I could run toNew Zealand. I never thought anyone would agree to help us. But Aidan has shown me the power of hope. If I believe in it, maybe, just maybe, I can tape the broken glass together and recreate the painting of my life. 

I look up. The sky is a perfect crystal blue decorated with swirling clouds of white. I make my decision. It’s not just a choice. It’s a tribute to my sister, for all her love and trust, patience and forgiving. I will live. I will start over. Most of all, I will keep hoping.

For this is my new beginning.