Page 82 of Goodbye Days

“Is…that the thing where—”

“Where one sense triggers another sense. So when I play or hear music—or any sound, actually—I see colors.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s awesome. I’ve heard about that.”

“I guess. It’s awesome sometimes. Not always. Anyway, this piece I’m working on for my Juilliard audition? ‘Jeux d’eau’? I was barely watching Martha Argerich performing it. It’s supposed to sound crystal, cobalt blue. Like…blue glass set on a windowsill. That’s how it sounds when she plays it. But when I play it, it sounds brownish-green. All snotty. It’s gross and awful. It physically hurts to listen to myself.”

“It sounds amazing when you play it.”

“No offense, dude, but I have to play it for people with way pickier ears than yours.”

“You’ll nail it.”

“Well, for the last almost two months, everything I’ve played sounds snot colored. It’s like Eli’s dying broke something in me, and now I have this weird sickly greenish-yellow photo filter over everything I do. It’s horrible to have something I love so much feel so completely wrong.”

“I get that.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

In response, I’m conspicuously mum and motionless. Jesmyn gives me an expectant look.

“This is me not doing anything whatsoever to fix the problem,” I mumble out of the corner of my mouth.

She laughs. A sound that’s become a sanctuary to me. “Okay, you can give me a hug. That’s sufficiently nonfixing.”

We stand and hug, swaying slightly. “You give good hugs,” she murmurs in my ear.

“Careful you don’t let me fix something by accident.”

“I won’t.”

“Sorry you’re viewing the world through snot-colored lenses lately.”

“Me too.”

She pulls back, and maybe I’m imagining this but she lightly drags the edges of her lips along my cheek as she does so. (Personal growth, so I have to sit back down carefully.)

Jesmyn sits. “Do you think it would help me if I had a goodbye day for Eli like you did for Blake? No joking about how you’re not supposed to fix anything.”

I was not expecting this question, given recent events. “Possibly. I mean, Blake is definitely quieter now in my mind than he used to be.”

“Maybe we should both have a goodbye day for Eli with his parents. Might help us both.”

Because of Adair, this had not even occurred to me. The idea weirds me out. “Do you want me to see if they’re into it?” I’m hoping she’ll say no.

“Maybe.”

“What about Adair?”

“If Adair’s a problem, they’ll say no.”

“What do we do about Adair in general? Should we try to talk to her?”

“After one attempt at it, I can’t imagine that helping much.”

We sit in wordless contemplation, my thoughts bubbling up and breaking on the surface.

“So,” I say finally, “what color is my voice? When I talk?”