The Green House

i| 06

06

2018[age 19]

Ajsa

My teeth nervously sought out for loose skin on the inside of my cheeks as I nervously chowed down on the tasteless flesh. My back was pressed up against the smooth texture of the hospital walls and I intook deep breaths like I was just running but the only thing that was running were my wild thoughts.

I tried to calm myself down and refrained myself from peeking out from the wall I hid behind knowing I would just find Slate standing in the middle of the hallway. I regretted what I had said but I had too much pride to go back and apologize. I fought against myself, the pros-having someone to talk to- and the cons-appearing weak and obedient- of going back and actually enjoying this afternoon with Slate. One of the last I'll ever get with him.

I pushed myself away from the wall and continued halfway down the hallway but I stopped, I watched the nurses with their carts and trays push open adjacent doors to greet the mentally insane and I loathed it.

I momentary had a lapse in judgment, a sprout of hope blossomed in my chest and wrapped around my heart, wanting to run back to Slate and apologize so I could build a healthy relationship with someone other than a figment of my imagination but I reminded myself that Slate was leaving soon and continued down the hallway.

I was fine before he showed up and I would be fine after he left. I walked down the corridor and stopped at the door of my room looking across the small hallway I saw that Darce's room was left ajar. I crossed the line and stepped into her room slightly, grasped her doorknob and promptly shut her door.

"Did you just close my door?" A feminine voice started me as I gripped onto the doorknob. A tall stack of printer paper obscured my view of who I believed to be was Darce.

"Oh yeah, I didn't want anyone coming in and stealing anything" I shrugged it off and sidestepped her

"Wait- you can't just leave without helping me- what kind of friend are you?" She scoffed and recioled at her comment. I didn't even know Darce, the most I knew was what Ms. Montgomery ever told me, I would hardly call that friends. I didn't answer but nontheless opened her door for her. She kicked the door open and exposed more of her room which was fairly different from mine, from the little window I could see into her room I wouldn't imagine it to be like this. I caught her door with my hand and intook more of the brightly colored paintings of scenery so beautiful I doubt they existed. A stringy wool started from the left corner of her room and stretched across it hanging from it were photos I presume she had taken of people and things. They weren't all the same size and were strung up quite blindly.

Her white walls were infected with splatter of various color paints in random places, plants adorned the room and the white tiles of the floors were partially covered up with a white rug. Her bed was just a mattress on the floor with a fluffy looking blanket thrown carelessly to the side. She had a desk, on it was a typewriter, it was old and dusty green.

"Cool isn't it?" She dropped the stack of printer paper to the side of the desk when she saw me looking at the typewriter. I searched her face, her buzzcut was slightly growing back and I had noticed a small but prominent birthmark in the center of her neck.

"Yeah, where did you get it?" I watched her take out the paper she had been typing on and put it on top of the large pile on the floor.

"My grandmother gave it to me" The phrase repeated in my head as it sounded harshly familiar to what I had said about my ring "She used to work with typewriters, fixing them up, writing shit with them- it was boring but it was her job" She shrugged

"That's still cool" I lamley replied and wondered if I should also comment on the ring my grandmother had 'given' to me.

"Want to see it in action?" Her eyes were slightly hooded and I just nodded my head and wondered where the screaming Darce went.

She pulled out a little stool from under her desk and tore open the package of printer sheets, before putting a paper in. She turned something on the side and the paper went under and came back in the front before she clasped it down.

"Give me a color" She demanded and I stood next to her watching her work with the ancient machine

"White" I automatically replied

"That's a shade- give me a color" I stood there thinking for a moment of what color I should tell her before she interrupted me.

"Do you need me to define what a color is?" I didn't respond before she continued "In simple terms a color is what the naked eye can see from natural--"

"Blue. I choose blue" I cut her off and she smiled "I love blue too" I didn't like blue at all, it was just the first color my eyes laid on when looking around her room.

"This" She pointed at a knob in the right corner "Is how you change the colors of the ink, it really only has three options: blue, red and the standard black, I like typing in red."

I nodded my head numbly as I watched her switch more knobs and place her fingers over the circles with weird letters on them, some were from the English language and others were not.

"What's that?" I pointed to a weird looking 'Dz' letter combination in the bottom right corner

"Oh, the typewriter is from Europe-Serbia to be exact so some letters are different, but most are the same- in the latin alphabet anyways" She shrugged

"Can you write in Serbian?" I asked her and she nodded plainly

"Yep, I can write, read, and speak it too" She shuffled her papers around and when I glimpsed at the words I realized she hadn't been writing in English.

"Why did you move here? Europe is beautiful" I commented with a compliment so I could get on her good side, plus I didn't want to seem ignorant.

"If it were up to me I'd stay there forever-sure the economy isn't amazing but it's so pretty." She sighed "My parents moved, they ran away from the war and we ended up here" I wanted to ask her if she was born in America but she brushed the topic away by grasping at my hand.

"Here try it" She placed my clammy hand atop the letters and urged me to type something. In bold red ink I typed a 'hello'.