Captivation

42: Green

Green (adjective): of the color between blue and yellow in the spectrum; colored like grass or emeralds.

Questions flow in to Henry and I from every man on the ship. They ask what happened to Henry's arm, if I got hurt, how Henry knew Roderick, and anything and everything else that could be asked. We answer the questions as best as we can, and at some points they ask questions I can't answer. Sometimes crazy will never make sense.

I try to keep my composure, but by the time we finally get away from the crew I am about to scream. Henry follows me into my room and shuts the door softly behind us. I turn and look at him, and I know that my frustration is painted on my features.

"They wouldn't stop talking." Henry says and I can hear some of my frustration in his voice. However, Henry's emotions are more relaxed than mine.

"I just..." I groan, and sit down on my bed.

"Exactly." Henry says, sitting next to me. I smile and look over at him, only to see him smirking at me.

"I think I'm in shock." I say, "I can't believe that just happened."

"Me neither..." He says, and looks somber.

"It's not your fault." I tell him.

"I know you think that, but it is my fault." He says softly.

"You should just listen to me for once. The last time you didn't listen to me you got stabbed." I raise my eyebrows.

Henry looks over at me and then smiles, and it's small and sweet. "Thank you for having hope for me."

"If I had no hope for you, I wouldn't be sitting here with you." I say, looking over at him.

"Right, because you are not one who wastes their time." He observes somewhat sarcastically. I elbow him.

"Watch it," I say, "You're crippled, I could totally do some damage."

Henry laughs, "I'm shaking in fear."

I make a face at him and poke him in his side. He looks over at me and then uses his good arm to pull me closer to him. He plants a kiss on my cheek. I smile and look over at him. "I'm so glad that we're both still here." I sigh.

"Me too." Henry says.

I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "What's your favorite color?" I ask.

Henry laughs, "I'm sorry, we almost died and you want to talk about colors?"

"Answer the question." I say, shifting closer to him.

"Green." He says.

"Why?" I ask.

"What kind of question is that? It's a preference." He says.

"Describe the color green to me, then." I say, just to be difficult. I expect him to rebuke me in some way, to tell me that I'm crazy, but instead, now I get an answer. But before he says anything he lays down on his back, his feel hanging over the edge of the bed. I lay down next to him, and rest my head on his chest, curling up into him.

"Green," He begins, "Is the way the world smells as they days get longer warmer. The buzzing of bees and the chirping of birds sounds green. If you've ever eaten dirt as a kid it tastes green." I smile and let out a short laugh here, and Henry does the same, and then his tone turns more serious. "Green is the way you feel when you decided to be a new person. When you watch the most beautiful girl walk around the edges of a ballroom, the color of her dress is green. When you find out that you are not the first man in this beautiful girl's life, the jealousy you feel is green." There is a short pause, "When you look into her eyes and realize that you've fallen in love, their color is green."

The room is silent after that. I prop myself up on my elbow and look at Henry. He was looking at the ceiling, but I see him look over at me. He gives me a small smile, and I see some insecurity on his features. Neither of us are good at opening up to people, and he just said a lot to me. I lean down and press my lips to his.

I pull away and look into his eyes. "Blue." I say. "That's my favorite color."

"Why?" He asks.

I close my eyes. I'm not good with words. I feel like they normally mean nothing, but Henry's words just meant a lot to me, and I want to repay the gesture. "Blue is the color that will make you feel insignificant in the best way. It's the way the sky covers you and the way the ocean surrounds you." I pause, "Blue is the smell of the ground after it rains." I bite my lip. "Blue is the color of the dress that he picked out for you. When it all goes right, his laugh sounds blue, bright and bold. When you ruin it all, you feel blue." I take a deep breath, "When he tells you he loves you, the words are blue, and they encompass you in a most captivating manner. Like the sky and the ocean. Blue."

We both sit in silence for a while, and then Henry turns on his side and slowly moves his bad arm out and brushes my hair out of my face. "Green and blue." Henry says, and I watch his eyes, their different colors. Green and blue.

"Like your eyes." I point out. He gives me a slight smile.

"I never liked it before, but I guess I'm glad for it now." He says softly, his hand runs along my side and rest on my hip. His touch sends shivers down my spine.

"Promise me something?" I ask.

"Anything." He says.

"If my father says no," I sigh, "If he says no, marry me anyway."

Henry looks at me for a moment before he responds. "I promise."

"We're going to Trenton next, aren't we?" I ask.

"That would be optimal." He says, "Although we've been set off track now..."

"He's going to say no." I tell Henry.

He moves his hand and runs his thumb over my cheek. "You don't know that."

"Yes I do." I say, and he gives me a small smile that looks like it was meant to be encouraging, but instead it appears to be deflated. He knows I'm right. When he puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me close, kissing me, I wonder about his arm. When he pulls away, I ask, "Doesn't it hurt your arm?" I ask.

Henry shrugs, "It doesn't matter."

"Don't make yourself worse." I say.

"You've only ever made me better." He says softly. He kisses me again.

The night is filled with sweet nothings and soft kisses and whispered fears. Ghosts of our pasts are resurrected and mingle. I learn more about Henry's siblings, the way his older brothers would tease him, but how they beat up a boy in the school yard for him when he was young and got made fun of. I learn about Henry's father, who was everything I feared he would be. Verbal abuse is what scarred Henry more than anything else.

"Maybe they're just words, and maybe when they matter most they fall short, but they never lack the ability to scar." Henry says softly.

"I think you're right..." I say quietly.

I tell him then about my father, who I used to follow everywhere. My sisters, and how I would make up lies about the monsters under the bed, and the shadow people who ruled the world after the sun went down.

Our words dissolved into kisses, which turned into being held close as the beating of his heart lulled me to sleep. 

Hey guys, I'm thinking of writing another story in this same type of genre. Would you all be interested in reading it? I'm still on the fence, but if you would all be interested I would be interested in writing it!