Cerulean

1995

Dahlia Santana’s 1991 Honda Civic rolled to a slow stop beside the curb next to a boarded-up abandoned house. The white paint had faded in the sunlight and began peeling away and there were tons of graffiti. Dahlia slid out of her car, staring at her childhood home briefly before turning around and facing the boarded-up home across the street from hers. It looked the exact same with its yellow chipping paint and graffiti stained walls. The spot where the porch and lawn should have been now overrun with weeds and various invasive plant species that could reach up to Dahlia’s waist. The backyard fence was secured with a cheap lock and without even thinking first, she boosted herself over the fence. Now staring at a garden of weeds, Dahlia’s eyes found what they have been yearning to see, a treehouse. As Dahlia grew closer to the tree, wading through the weeds, she could see that the steps were still nailed in place in the center of the tree trunk. Meaning, she could climb up to her childhood best friend's treehouse, Meli’s treehouse, the place they spent all their summers together. 

Dahlia pulled herself up the steps, pushing hard at the top to get the door to swing upwards. The door swung open with ease and Dahlia pulled herself into a very unpleasant treehouse. Spiderwebs draped from the ceiling to the walls like party streamers and fallen branches and leaves covered the floor as if it were confetti, it seems that nature is welcoming her back with a party. Her dark eyes scanned the room, noticing the rotting wood until her eyes rediscovered something so magnificent, something so romantic. Blue Paint.

1980

“God, it is so hot!” Meli said, laying flat on her back in her cramped treehouse.

“We could take turns fanning each other?” Dahlia said, leaning over Meli.

“You know I’m too lazy for that,” Meli said, resulting in Dahlia pinching her arm.

“You’re right. You’re a lazy ASS!” Dahlia said, emphasis on the word ‘ass,’ Meli gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Did you just say ‘ass’?! Dahlia!” Meli reached over and pinched her arm.

The two thirteen-year-old girls erupted in laughter, rolling on the rough wooden floor, holding their stomachs as they laughed.

“Ow!” Dahlia said, holding her pointer finger, inspecting it for the cut.

“What happened?” Meli asked, reaching for her hand.

“I think I cut it on the wood,” Dahlia said, showing her the cut with the slightest amount of blood squishing itself out into the humid world. Meli held Dahlia’s hand for a moment, silently feeling her palm. Feeling all the dips and grooves, all the bones that made up her tiny hand.

“What are you doing?” Dahlia asked.

“Feeling your hand.”

“But why?”

“Because…” Meli began to trail off, rolling her eyes so her gaze was staring at the ceiling above her head.

“Because why? And plus it's sweaty!”

“It’s soft.” Meli brought her eyes back to Dahlia’s palm.

“Oh.” Dahlia raised her eyes to Meli’s, but they were still focused on her palm. A sudden summer breeze passed through the only window in Meli’s treehouse, cooling the tiny room.

“Ah, that feels nice,” Meli said, letting go of Dahlia’s hand. “You know what we should do today?”

“What?” Dahlia asked.

“Well, ya know how this room is SO boring! We should have a paint fight. BOOM! Red on this wall! And BOOM! Orange on this wall! Maybe some pink too! What do you think?”

“A paint fight? My mom will kill me if I come home covered in paint.”

“Hm, you’re right. My mom would be mad too. How about we get paint and just put our names on the wall? We could add some small hearts or a flower” Meli suggested.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Dahlia said, beaming through her braces.

“Papa!” Meli practically screamed poking her head through the window. Her father slid their backyard door open, holding a beer.

“What, Meli?” He boomed.

“Can you bring me the big can of blue paint and two brushes?” She asked. Her father sighed, walking back into the house.

“Yes! He’s gonna bring it!”

Meli’s father came out of the sliding door again, this time carrying a gallon bucket of cerulean blue paint with two paintbrushes.

“Papa! Tie the rope onto this and me and Dahlia will pull it up!” Her father sighed, tying the thin white rope around the handle and giving it three tugs to ensure its safety.

“Don’t make a mess, girls. Meli, you know your mom will get pissed if she sees a mess in her backyard. Keep that paint away from her sunflower garden.” He said as Meli raised the paint can. Up and up it came, ready to meet us. 

“Ugh, gross! My dad gave us the old paintbrushes. Look at them!” Meli shoved a crusty, sticky, but colorful, paintbrush in Dahlia’s face. “He’s so cheap about stuff! These are from the Dollar General store too! Just one dollar for a lousy brush!” Meli threw the paintbrush at the wall, laughing.

“Let’s just paint our names,” Dahlia said, growing impatient as she rocked back and forth on her heels and pulling at the loose strings on her hand-me-down shorts. Meli glanced over at her, smiling.

“Yeah. Let’s put our names next to the window.”

“Why the window?” Dahlia asked.

“So every time I look out I’ll see our friendship. Marked in the bluest blue.” Meli said, picking up the paintbrush and swinging it around in the air as if she was a conductor.

“It’s called, uh, huh? How do you think you say this?” Dahlia asked with her brows crinkled together. 

“Let me see…” Meli pushed her face close to the paint can, squinting at the letters. “C- C-air-lean? Care-lee-ann! Sir-you-lean, I got nothing. But who cares, it’s blue!”

Dahlia and Meli dipped their brushes into the paint, watching the excess drizzle back into the can like melted chocolate.

“Wow! It’s a waterfall of blue! I dare you to stick your tongue in it.” Meli said, laughing.

“Ew no!” Dahlia said, matching her laugh and giving her a little shove. “I think you would have to run across the street to tell my mom what happened! And she’d have to take me to the doctors! Oh god, I can imagine her face. Paint?! You ate paint?!” Dahlia said, laughing even harder now. 

“Dahlia, close your eyes,” Meli said.

“Why?”

“Will you just do it? Please.”

“You’re gonna put paint in my hair.”

“I’m not gonna put paint in your hair! Girl scouts honor!” Meli said.

“I’ve known you since we were six and I know you’ve never been to one girl scout meeting!” Dahlia said, laughing again.

“Okay, you’re right,” Meli exclaimed, laughing. “But shh! And close your eyes!”

“Okay, fine!” Dahlia shut her eyes and stood motionless.

“And turn around too!” Meli said. Dahlia smirked and turned the other way, facing a blank wall. She could hear Meli painting something on the wall, what is she doing?

“Okay, turn around.” She heard Meli say. Dahlia spun around to see in bright blue letters “KISS ME,” which made Dahlia’s brows crinkle together again, this time knotting together.

“Why- why does it say that?” Dahlia stammered, stepping backward as her cheeks flushed with a warmth that wasn’t from the summer heat.

“Because- because I want to kiss you, Dahlia,” Meli whispered. 

Dahlia stood in disbelief in what Meli had painted on the wall. Kiss her? Kiss her best friend? She hadn’t even kissed a boy yet. But it’s as if her heart was steering her body, pulling her closer to her best friend with five small steps until they were face to face. It was so quiet, so still that Meli could hear Dahlia gulp in nervousness. 

“We’ve never even kissed anyone…” Dahlia whispered.

“That’s why we should kiss each other first, so we know if we’re good at it or not.”

“You want to kiss me so you’ll know that you’re a good kisser?” Meli’s eyes dropped to the floor as if there was something so enthralling about an un-sodded wooden treehouse floor.

“Meli? Meli?” Dahlia took her hand that she had cut earlier, placing it on Meli’s face and pulled her so close she could feel the flushing warmth of her emotions too.

“Why do you want to kiss me, Meli?” Dahlia asked. She could see Meli’s eyes filling up.

“Because- Because… Because I keep having dreams about kissing you! Because I think about your curly hair while I’m supposed to be taking notes in my summer school class. Because… Because I think I like you.” Meli said, leaning into Dahlia until both of their lips touched, as soon as they met, they parted as Meli pulled away, covering her lips with her hand.

“I want to kiss you again. And maybe another time after that.” Meli said, still hiding behind her hand, and again trying to find something entertaining about the floor.

“Look at me,” Dahlia said.

“I can’t.”

“Look at me, Meli!” Dahlia said, grabbing her face again and kissing her. Dahlia pulled her face away, blushing as she said, “I like you too.”

1995

Dahlia’s cheeks began to feel sore as she stared at a rotting wooden treehouse wall that read in bright blue letters, “Meli and Dahlia BFF July 7, 1980,” with a heart.