Living in a Colorless 1950's Fantasy

Opening her closet door, Kate was distraught, she didn’t have anything remotely perfect for the kite viewing for later that evening. Rows and rows of day dresses, night, and party gowns stair back at her wishing they could take another stroll outside with Kate. But alas she made a pact within herself to only wear something once.

Through the velvet floor length gown, she wore for her birthday celebration last year, is a piece she still puts on every now and then to feel the fabric against her skin, as she dances to her mother’s music in the foyer.

It’s not hard to comprehend just how different you are in grade school. In fact, it’s almost a game for young kids to figure out how quickly they can condemn and target someone who is different. Kate’s was easy to figure out, as children tend to learn colors before they are taught any real information. Before Kate was even in school, her mother was bold enough to teach Kate colors and words when she was around 16 months, a revolutionary movement for a fetus. The first color, red, was easy for her to distinguish from white but that’s because (you guessed it), she was merely understanding that “red” was darker than “white.” It only took a few more colors swatches before her mother realized something was wrong.

Kate was completely color blind.

Now, back to the topic of grade school, she was ridiculed a small amount. Almost certainly the appropriate amount (I assume that’s what turned her into who she is today). When Kate was in middle school, a boy whose name she unfortunately cannot seem to recall (for he moved away the next day and she hasn’t heard from him since) told her it must feel strange living in this modern world. Kate remembers the interaction quite clearly, or maybe she just romanticized it countless times over and over, for it has been a decade and a half since it occurred.

“You’re that blind girl, right?” The boy casually strode up to Kate as she swung on the swing set near the lunchroom.

“I’m color blind, not blind, I can still see you.” He was a darker shade than most the other kids, and Kate had been told a few times that it meant his skin was called Black.

“Oh, well my dad says that must be boring.”

“You told your dad about me?”

“Yeah, but I told him you’re blind.”

“Oh, well I’m not.”

He stood by the swing and waited for her to stop and get off, then he took Kate’s place and started swinging. Kate started walking towards the monkey bars before he yelled back at her.

“It’s like you’re stuck in a 1950’s show.”

“What?”

“My dad watches old movies and shows, and the screen is always black and white.”

"Oh, well I guess you're right."

Shaking her head from the random memory of that boy, Kate decided to call up her friend Jessy, since she needed her eyes to tell her what patterns and colors pair well with others. She wanted something more extravagant, than all the other gowns she had already made, so it was time to head to the fabric store.

Picking up her mothers’ rotary telephone, the chipped texture of the old device weighing heavy in her palm, she started spinning the dial of Jessy’s home phone number.

Kate’s mother wanted to be as supportive of her daughter as she could, and if Kate wanted to live, pretending she was existing in a 1950’s television show where everything was black, white and grey, then so be it. If it made Kate happy, then her mother was happy.

Her mother watched as her daughter descended the staircase of their old Victorian home, the ugly wallpaper of blue and green flowers printed on a pinkish read background, and the matching red carpeted staircase that looped in an aggressive curve at the end. Her daughter looked straight out of an old-fashioned painting, that decided it was tired of being still and desired to move around and stretch its legs. Kates’s mother was thankful that Kate was born with pin straight raven black hair, since she couldn’t see color anyways, it was better to just allow Kate to understand that everyone see’s her hair the same way Kate does, a small fraction of normalcy.

Though as Kate skips by her mother, she giggles to herself as she watches her child in yet another new gown, this one a pale yellow with white lace at the hem and short sleeves that flop around her shoulders effortlessly. This gown was cinched at Kate’s waist and was quite a bit lower cut at the bodice than the others, but her mother let it slide, since Kate had just turned 17 last year, she was almost 18 in just a few days. She knew Kate found comfort in her 1950’s fantasy, (normalcy, it seems, is something both of them have given up on a while ago).

Her mother waited for Kate to finish dialing the numbers, waited for Kate and Jessy to catch up, pick a time and arrange for Jessy to pick Kate up. Kate refused to drive or use a smart phone, since she so desperately craved that 1950’s life. Her mother waited and watched her daughter slide into the open concept kitchen and pour some water from the tap, chop up some lemons, then squeeze a few fresh ones into her glass. Her mother pushed off the adjacent wall and shuffled up next to her daughter. She leaned on the counter and gave Kate a wishful look, hoping to get the point across. Kate laughed and poured her mother a glass of water, cut up some more lemons and squeezed them into that glass, handing it to her.

“Ah, thank you dear.” Her mother sang after taking a delicate swig of the drink. Causing Kate to roll her eyes as she reiterated her plans with Jessy to find more fabric for the Kite Viewing that evening.

“It has to be better than anything I’m made before.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I want it to be.”

At that answer her mother laughed, “I don’t think I'll ever understand you, will I? All the other dresses you’ve made would be perfect for the Kite Viewing, don’t you think?”

“Well, the Kite Viewing only happens every 5 years, so I feel in my heart and soul that it’s an important town event and I should be showing my support.”

The Kite Viewing is just as it sounds like, it’s an old tradition in the town where everyone (well, whoever wants to participate) attaches glow sticks to their kites and brings them up into the night sky. It’s beautiful, and one of the things Kates enjoys as a color-blind girl. It’s dark out anyways so no one else can really see the colors of the kites, it looks like a bunch of close and strange moving stars.

“Heart and soul, huh? Well, in that case I can’t really deny you.”

Kate smiles and grabs her handbag off the dining table chair closest to the front door. She slips on her white kitten heels (since she knows they go with everything) and waits by the front to hear Jessy’s van pull up.

Her mother watches Kate and remembers she picked some pears off their neighbor’s pear tree this morning (don’t worry, the Decker’s are a very giving family, and they know Kate enjoys the taste of pears, more so than they do). Her mother opens the fridge door, the white light illuminating her freckled face, and she reaches into the fridge pulling out the bowl of pears. Grabbing two, she circles around the dinning table and catches Kates’s attention, before tossing her the pear.

“Oh, the Decker’s pears are ready?”

“I think so, I haven’t tried them yet, so you’ll have to be the judge on that.”

Kate smiled, nodded, and held her pear up to her mothers, who tapped Kates’s pear with her own.

“Cheers!” They both announced before taking a small bite into their crunchy (yet juicy) respective fruits.