The Turning Point

CHAPTER SIXTY- THE COLOR AROUND THE SUN

William (eight months later)

"What is Heloyse to you, Davies?"

Dr. Malerman crossed his legs, resting the notepad on his knee. His curious eyes studied me as if searching for a secret hidden beneath my skin.

I clenched my fists on my legs.

"Is it really necessary to call me that? I don't like that name," I asked, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor.

"Certainly. It's part of your therapy and you said you would cooperate. Now, answer my question."

I took a deep breath, trying to relax my fingers.

"Heloyse was..."

"Was? Isn't she anymore?"

I hesitated.

"I prefer to think of her in the past. That's where I left her."

"Continue."

My eyes wandered to the window. The late afternoon light drew long shadows on the floor.

"She was someone important. She took things from me that others never could."

"In a good way?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to go back and do everything differently?"

I thought for a moment before answering:

"If I went back to the moment I hurt her, I would still let her go."

"You didn't hurt her on purpose."

I sighed.

"Still, I hurt her. That's a fact. My violent instinct caused all this."

"How?"

"I was violent with Johnson, and the consequence of that was a succession of disasters."

Malerman wrote a few words in his notebook. Then, he took a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket.

"Do you mind?"

"No. Just don't die before finishing my sessions. I paid in advance, so you better take care of your health. That kills!"

He chuckled and lit a cigarette.

"Just like holding bad feelings. Depression, hatred, sadness, resentment... All that kills. There are studies that say that depressed and anxious people are more likely to develop cancer. Feelings can make you sick. The Bible mentions this in Proverbs: 'A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.'"

I pressed my lips together.

"I think my bones have dried up to the point of turning to dust," I murmured. "In fact, I think I'm just a walking dust grain. Nothing more."

Malerman let out a brief laugh, puffing on his cigarette before saying:

"And is that bad?"

"Considering that dust grains are tiny and insignificant, yes. I think they're quite similar to me."

He raised an eyebrow.

"If you look like a dust grain, then there's beauty in you."

I frowned.

"I don't see how."

"Dust particles carry everything: human skin, hair strands, animal fur, insect remains, even fungi..."

"And where's the beauty in that?"

He smiled slightly, as if he expected that question.

"Without dust, you could never appreciate the clouds in the sky. It's the particles of earth and salt evaporated from the ocean that form the nuclei of raindrops. Without them, there would be no storms or rainbows."

I listened to his words in silence.

"And have you noticed the light around the dust particles, Davies?"

"No. I'm usually busy working and not observing unicorn dust."

He laughed again and said as he regained his composure:

"They scatter light in different waves. During the day, they look yellow or whitish. But at sunset, when the sky lights up in shades of orange and red, they're the ones that create that spectacle. The more dust there is in the atmosphere, the more intense the colors are. Have you ever noticed that, in the most polluted cities, the sunset is more vibrant?"

I remained silent.

"What I mean is that even things we consider ugly or insignificant can create something beautiful. Dust, full of fragments of things that once existed, turns the sky into a painting of vivid colors. Your life, Davies, may have pains, flaws, and scars. But there was also love. There was your mother, Calvin, Eva, Thom, Martin... There was friendship. There was Heloyse. And, in her, you found more than you've ever looked for. If you're a dust grain, Davies... then there's a spectacle of colors existing in you."

He looked at me for a moment, flicked the cigarette ashes into the ashtray, and turned his attention back to his notebook.

That same day, I sat in one of my chairs, watched the sky until the sun disappeared, while the light spilled across the horizon in shades of gold and crimson.

I was just a dust particle, trying to become light.