Author’s Note: HEY! I’m back! Hope you enjoy. Based on a dream, and we all know those are crazy. I hope you enjoy. Not sure where the rainbow theme came from. I just find these rare colour names kind of fascinating.
A Dramatic Short Story by Ana Govindasamy
Trigger Warnings/ Disclaimers: Suicide, Death, Grief & Bereavement Themes
The day I lost my brother was the day my world caved. The day my rainbow disappeared. My name? Heliotrope Richards. His? Cerulean.
Cerulean. That’s where he died. Drowning in endless cerulean. Endless cold. Endless endlessness, in the dark. Lungs filled with ice. Silent. Still.
We were inseparable. I was expecting. But he; he was there. He was there when the father of my daughter walked out. Was there to sign the papers, and be Amaranth’s guardian. There through the sickness, the pain, everything else that came with my pregnancy, the delivery, even. Through our father’s death.
That took a toll on the both of us.
We knew it was coming. Still wasn’t any less of a shock. When Navy died, a part of us died with him. He had a funeral in July. Writing my eulogy was the hardest thing I’d had to do. I couldn’t look at a pen the same way for weeks after, much less a blue one.
More of Cerulean died with our father then he let show. Much, much more. I wish it was earlier. Wish he’d told me. In his note he blamed it on never having time, what with Amaranth‘s birth.
I read that sentence, and guilt so strong, it might as well have been physical pain, reverberated through my heart, my head.
I thought our bond was unbreakable. I thought we had trust, could tell each other anything. Like kids again. That’s what it felt like during my pregnancy. During his break up.
I was wrong.
Dad’s death. That was the turning. Or the bend. The drop? I don’t know. Because I don’t know how long he felt the way he did. He never told me. And never will.
Secrets die. Just like their keepers. Whether you wanted them to or not. They die.
If Dad’s death was the drop, what was his break-up with Jade? Was that the bend? Or just another drop of fuel, for the car that drove him off the edge? The start. That must’ve been Mom’s death. Garnetta Richards. That was the first turn.
Did I never catch it?
Did I assume that him and Jade would sort it out together?
Did I make a mistake?
Was I a bad sister?
Was I too wrapped up in myself?
Was I useless?
I must’ve been. If I weren’t, he wouldn’t have jumped. He wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have. That wasn’t him. That was his problems. Problems worsened, no, created by me.
If I hadn’t been, he would still be.
After all, what’s a family with only two members?
What’s a rainbow with only two colours?