A Wish for Us

by Tillie Cole

I had my music. That was it.

I never spoke. My music did the talking for me.

wasn’t exactly a social person. I was better on my own.

But in all that time, I never forgot his name.

But for some reason Bonnie Farraday sparked life back into my dead soul.

She stared at me over her cup. “Like what you see?” I asked, smirking. She ignored me.

Whenever I heard music, something happened inside me.

Music always seeped into me like damp drizzle on a cold day. I could feel it down to my bones.

As I stared at Cromwell’s face, it was like seeing it for the first time. Gone were the arrogance and the anger he wore like a shield.

Her voice was violet blue. I closed my eyes. It was my favorite color to hear.

Her laughter was pale pink.

But then I had to look at her…and I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

“Manners cost nothing, son. Always be gracious with those who want to help.”

It wasn’t sitting well that she didn’t like me. Because I was quickly realizing I kind of liked her.

I was sick of being me.

Her touch always seemed to cut through my darkness.

Cromwell Dean was so beautiful.

The music was beautiful, like the feeling of the sun on your face breaking through the harsh wind of winter and welcoming the spring.

There was no beginning or end to him and the music. I was sure I caught a glimpse of his soul.

But the way he played, the way his deep blue eyes fixed to mine like they were silently crying for help…this broken boy was burrowing his way into my weak heart.

“Cromwell?” I turned. “What’s your favorite? Your favorite color to see?” I didn’t even think before I spoke the words. “Violet blue.” She smiled and went into her dorm. I watched her go, dumbstruck at what I’d just said. Violet blue.

“You can’t fight the colors you were born to see.”

Something settled in my chest that I hadn’t felt in years. Something I never thought I’d find ever again. Silver. I choked at the sight. Happiness.

But her eyes were visible. That was all I needed.

She was my silver.

“I believe that music should tell a story. I believe that in the notes and melodies there should be some kind of meaning. Music should take you on a journey, crafted by the creator’s heart.”

“I have heart failure, Cromwell.” She smiled sadly. Devastatingly. “My heart is dying.”

WHAT

“But your music made me see you, Cromwell. It called me to you. The boy who hears color.”

Obstacles in life sometimes make you look at the world in ways you never did before.”