Anthology of Contests

When Green Is Just Your Color

"I have no answers for you, Mr. Arvind," I listened as the doctor started fidgeting around with the papers on his table, "we can only wait for the results and that will take a few weeks." 
"Thank you, doctor," I got up and walked out of the office, dazed. It had been the 3rd doctor this week, not to mention the two I saw last week, and still no answer. Some of the blood tests and tissue sample results had already come back and they only confirmed one thing.
It wasn't a disease.
So what was this patch of green on my arm? Before I knew it, I was already in my car, an old Renault Twingo which was falling apart. The "w" and "o" had already fallen off earning my ride the nickname of Ting. I shook my head and gave myself a mental slap. This was not the time to be in one of those all-consuming depressed moods. There were Christmas parties to go to and family gatherings to attend. I turned the key in the ignition and smiled when Ting purred to life. Old, but reliable. In this life, I had two material things that I would never give up if I had my way. Ting and an old jumper my neighbor gave me almost ten years ago. Both were my favorite green in color. 

"What did the doc say?" My friend Teresa asked. I was at another of those pre-Christmas gatherings. This time only a couple of friends.
"It's not a disease. I'll have to wait for the test results though to be sure," I took a swig of eggnog, wincing as it burned down my throat. Whoever made it was lenient with the bottle again. 
"When are they due?" She inquired, taking my glass from me and downing the liquid within. 
"In a few weeks or so. How could you drink that? It's nasty!" She gave a broad smile, before frowning and pulling on the sleeve of my jumper.
"The same way that you can wear this filthy green jumper to EVERY Christmas thing you go to."
"Hey, hey! It's not filthy. I had it dry cleaned yesterday," I defended my jumper, much to Teresa's disgust. The jumper had been a gift to me from an elderly neighbor who I had always visited over Christmas. The old lady had been so grateful for the company that she'd given me the jumper which was meant for her son. True it was a filthy green, the same as Ting, but I liked it nonetheless. Her son had moved her to a retiring home close to him about ten years ago, claiming that he could visit her more often if she was closer. I always wore the jumper during Christmas, as a way to remind myself of the generosity of others. 
"I bet you'll wear it to Diana's party, won't you?" Teresa teased again. I was getting fed up with her attitude toward my property.
"Of course, I will. Besides, the green will stand out nicely in her dull grey house. Why does she always insist on a silver Christmas tree?" We chatted for a while longer before I decided that it was time to go. Ting was waiting for me outside the door. I ran my fingers along the green paint and smiled at how similar the color was to my jumper, before getting in.

I stood third in line at the dry cleaners. They were my favorite in town. The others just weren't as friendly. The Indian lady at the counter motioned for the next customer to bring or take their things. I've been using their services for years now and never once had an issue. It was the type of place where they made you feel like family, asking about your relatives and their health. The next customer moved forward. After dropping off my laundry I would have to take Ting for a wash as well. A well-deserved one I might add. My thoughts turned to the green patch of skin on my arm. After the party with Teresa last night, I noticed that the patch had grown in size and was about five centimeters now. Not that I was holding a ruler to it. The green worried me. Sure enough, it wasn't itching or burning or anything remotely painful, but it wasn't normal either, was it? I had spent most of my morning Googling causes and the best advice I could find was "see your healthcare specialist". Safe to say I had already seen five of them and was now contemplating seeing one of those wiccan or shaman fellows. The man in front of me left and I found myself at the desk.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Arvind. How are you today?" The Indian lady asked politely. I smiled.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Chetty. I'm as good as can be. How is little Amoli?"
"She's doing good. Very busy nowadays helping me in the shop. You might see her when you come to fetch your clothes next time."
"Well, here's today's load. I'll see you tomorrow again. Good day to you Mrs. Chetty."
"A good day to you as well, Mr. Arvind." With that, I was out of there, in Ting, and heading to the car wash.

The attendant at the car wash let out a long whistle as he gave Ting a once-over.
"I'm su'p'ised this thing still 'uns," he slurred. I ran a loving finger along Ting's roof. 
"She's been with me since high school and hasn't given me any problems at all," I commented, patting the doorframe.
"She's in g'eat need of a wash, I think," the attendant walked over to the operating station and began fidgeting with knobs and buttons. The car wash rollers and flaps came to life like the tentacles we see in alien movies. I quickly got into the driver's seat and started the engine. Ting purred to life and I drove her onto the car wash tracks. Now I just had to sit and wait, watching the rollers and flaps pass over us. I heaved a sigh, my thoughts going back to the patch of green on my arm. It was still about 5cm and I felt relief that it hadn't spread any further, but the concern never left me. Did I have some incurable disease that hadn't been discovered yet? But the doctors all said that it wasn't a disease. Was it some elaborate prank then? I started thinking about that possibility, as another pair of rollers made their way across Ting's bonnet. The only person besides my parents who had a key to my apartment was Teresa and she was under strict orders to only use it in case of an emergency. She wouldn't have let the prank go so far as me seeing five different doctors and spending that amount of money on them either. So it couldn't have been a prank. And it's not a disease. I must be some alien finally showing his true colors. Haven't I seen a movie where that happened? A short laugh escaped me. Things were getting absurd. The next thing I know I'll be trying to convince myself that I'm from Krypton. Another pair of rollers came down on Ting's sides. I took my hand from the steering wheel and rubbed it over my face. Looking back in front of me, I noticed specks of green on the steering. I inspected my hand. Sure enough, it was littered with the same color specks. The same green as Ting... as my jumper... as the patch on my skin.
I rubbed my hand on my jeans and watched the specks cling to the material. In a way, I was relieved knowing that whatever the specks were they were removable. That didn't help my mood at all though, since the specks had to come from somewhere and I had a good enough mind to suspect that Ting might be shedding her paint. Just another thing that needed fixing.

Diana's party was as expected. Grey and silver everywhere. Most of the guests had decided to dress in the same grey or silver or black it seemed. Only Teresa and I were wearing festive colors. As predicted I was wearing my favored green jumper and already Teresa was teasing me about it.
"The fabled green jumper again. One day you'll regret wearing that thing so much."
"I'll drink to that. To the day I regret wearing the best jumper I have!" I raised my glass in a mock toast. As soon as I replaced my glass on the table, I noticed Teresa's horrid stare.
"What?" I inquired uncertainly.
"Arvind. Your neck," she whispered. Tentatively I touched around my neck but felt nothing out of the ordinary.
"What is it?" I asked again, a nervous smile covering up my anxiety.
"It's green," she stated, her voice tense. I rushed to the restroom. In the mirror, I could see the green smear along my neck. It was much bigger than the patch of green on my arm. How had I not noticed it before? I touched it again. It didn't hurt or itch or felt any different in texture from any other part of my skin. Questions filled my already anxious mind. What was happening to me? Why was the spread of green so uneven? How was I going to get rid of it?

It had been a few days since Diana's party and I found myself back at the cleaners, this time to pick up my clothes. I had seen a local wiccan witch who would be able to help once her herb supplier had made his delivery. To call me skeptical was an understatement, but I was desperate. Mrs. Chetty was at the desk her warm welcome at the ready.
"How's Amoli?" I inquired after the child, as was traditional by now.
"Very good, Mr. Arvind. She's folding laundry right over... Amoli!!" The sheer anger in Mrs. Chetty's voice made me jump. It was the voice of a mother who had caught her child red-handed, either doing something embarrassing or something that would be costing a lot of money to repair. I looked to where little Amoli was sitting on the floor a little ways from her mother. In front of her was my green jumper and beside her was a bowl of what looked like green paint of the same green. She was putting this paint-like substance all over the wool, which, upon further inspection, I noticed had patches where the green was fading. My attention was brought back to Mrs. Chetty by her apologetic voice.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Arvind. It's only henna though. It should come out after about two to three weeks. I'll refund your bill of course," she said. I wasn't registering her words. The only thought running through my mind was 'I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. It was only henna'. My worries faded as all the puzzle pieces fell into place. This explained why the patches of green were never painful and never itched. Why the texture was still the same. My skin was, unbeknownst to me, being dyed.