rainbowless

"Ughhhhh!"

I threw my phone on the sofa.

Not aggressively—I couldn’t afford that. But maybe medium strength? It bounced around the cushions a few times. I froze in the middle of my outburst to check if it would go flying to the floor. Hopefully, I wouldn’t regret my indulgence in this moment of rage.

This has become a daily reaction to the news now—emotions bubbling up and out for a split second. Usually, it’s accompanied by the biggest sigh of the day or a plethora of obscenities.

I can’t tear my eyes away from all the information, until there’s that one last drop (and lately, there’s always that one last drop) that sends me over the edge and makes me have to physically remove the phone from my hand.

I have to try and ground myself, because, goddamn, do I need a second.

This time, the drop was the passing of an extreme anti-trans bill in Montana. Yesterday, it was an emotionally dead billionaire ignoring his child (number 27). The day before that, it was something similarly awful that made my heart shatter into a million pieces.

I probably chose not to remember the details anymore.

I throw my phone to the side every day so I can butter my toast. Focus on something that’s here and now. Something I’m in charge of. Something I can actually influence.

Without the phone, I can force myself to enjoy my coffee. Focus on my breath. Reset.

Does anyone else take really deep breaths lately and end up staring at themselves in the mirror? Convincing themselves it’s gonna be okay? That there are still reasons to keep fighting and pushing?

I’m fucking exhausted.

Nonetheless, we persist. So, I grabbed my phone and jammed it deep into my pocket, banning myself from checking it for just a little longer.

I really need a treat.

My thoughts go directly to my favorite bakery and the best croissant in town.

Pistachio croissant. Just the colorful image makes me happier already.

I round the corner, the croissant thoughts fighting the incompetent politician thoughts. It’s a close call, but the croissants are winning.

Huh? Where are the flags?

My thoughts spiral slightly, thinking the worst at first, but then convincing myself I’m being dramatic. The place looks a little greyer without them, though. I never noticed how dull the front of the shop really is.

Neither of the bakers who know my order, and love to have it ready for me before I even say “hi,” are there.

“Hey, hi. One of the pistachio croissants, please,” I say to the new guy. He doesn’t seem happy to be surrounded by the fluffy pastry.

But I’m determined to turn this day around.

“So... are you new? Starting today?”

He looked up at me and measured me from head to toe.

“Nah, my dad bought the place and kicked the f**s out. I’m just covering before he finds someone.”

The second part was drowned out; I couldn’t tell you what he said. Because it sliced right through my nervous system, bolting me to the ground. I wondered if this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning.

I could see his lips moving. The nonchalance seeping out of him. He couldn’t care less about me—or my existence for that matter. He wasn’t looking at me. He was fumbling around for the croissant. Meanwhile, everything around me felt like it was going as numb as I was. The colour must’ve drained from my face—I could feel it. It seeped away from my vision at the same time. Shades of grey took over.

The only thing indicating I was still in this world was the heartbeat I felt in my ears.

He was holding out the bag, with what was supposed to be a bundle of joy. It felt like he was holding out a handful of mud, dripping mush all over the counter.

It felt like an eternity.

“Hey! Do you still want it, or what? You’re holding up the line!”

I looked up at him. “I’m sorry… what did you just say?”

“I said do you still want the croissant?”

“No, I meant before, with the guys that worked… worked here?”

“Oh, the fa*****s? Yeah, got rid of them. As we should. Dad made an off—”

“What the fuck did you just say!?”

It came from behind me. I was in no shape to react. I still couldn’t feel my legs, let alone react with such resolve.

I was truly grateful to this person for taking over. But I couldn’t shake the bone-deep grief of this situation even being real.

The guy behind me went off on the kid. Again, I wasn’t really present.

I caught something about the audacity of people using slurs like there’s no tomorrow. How they must be insane to think that their business is going to work out if this is what they stand for.

He said all the right things. After the initial curse, he was even respectful. Other people chimed in, nodding their heads, supportive.

We have come to this.

We’re really here now.

Again.

I didn’t take the croissant.

It left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth without me ever having touched it.

A fog clung to me. Layers upon layers of gray everywhere I looked. Was this going to be my permanent state now? Had those two words drained all the color from my world? Was it really that easy for a stranger to destroy what I cared for?

Are we to fight this? Isn’t more fighting just going to force us deeper into this lifeless world? This murky, slushy, gooey world, where nothing tastes like anything, the melodies don’t reach your heartstrings, and loving what you love is filthy and disgusting?

My phone rang.

“Hey, hun, you didn’t respond and I just need to know if we need anything else for tomorrow? I’m in the shop right now, so I can get any demonstration-y thingies, hehehe—”

His voice cut through the fog and sent a trickle of life back through my veins. A ripple of color in my vision before it blurred.

“… hun? Kev? You there?”

The tears came up and spilled out. I couldn’t stop it, and I didn’t want to.

“Uhm... yeah, sorry babe... uhh... we need to make a big-ass banner or something.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I knew you’d come around! Ok! I’mma buy loads of glitter and make it really flashy!”

I sniffed away from the mic. I didn’t want to alarm him.

“Hahah, yeah, definitely loads of glitter, please!”

“OK!! I love this! I love you! I’ll see you back home!”

“Go crazy! I love you!”

I love you.

No one’s taking that away from me. From us. From all of us.

I stood on the corner of our street when I looked around. A vase filled with some seasonal flowers on a windowsill reflected a ray of sunshine. The way the light broke left a streak of a rainbow on the ground.