The Color of Love

Chapter 3

Lillian got up particularly early the next morning and stepped out onto the balcony to start her morning with the beautiful view of the sun rising over the ocean. She smiled as she spotted James in the same spot he had been in the night before, only now he was wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt. This time there was no book in his hands, instead they rested in his lap, fingers interlaced, as he looked out over the horizon.

"Good morning, James," Lillian said quietly as she stepped to the balcony railing and stood, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing and seagulls cawing.

"Good morning, Lillian."

They stayed quiet for several minutes before James spoke up again, "I was thinking...maybe the dance isn't such a good idea."

She whipped around, a look of shock on her face. "What?!"

"Your ankle, Lillian." James stood and walked to the short wall that separated their balconies. He stared towards her bare feet. "You shouldn't be up on your feet that long—," he tried arguing in defense of his suggestion, but she quickly spoke over him.

Her voice was no longer as gentle and quiet as it was when she first came out onto the balcony. "My ankle is fine, James. I walked all around town with you yesterday, if you remember. And it is fine." She glared at him a moment, then asked, "What is this really about?"

"Nothing. It's about nothing. I only thought—"

"You're scared," she said, still staring at him.

He could feel her stare though he refused to make eye contact. "What?"

She turned away, walking to the far corner, as far away as she could get from him. She went quiet again, "You heard me."

Silence hung between the two of them like a thick curtain that neither was willing to pull away, until, after what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a few moments at best, Lillian finally sighed and spoke. "I get it, James. I get that you are scared. I get that this whole vacation is a new, different place with lots of new, different people — some of whom don't understand you. And I get that this is scary. I know you are anxious, nervous, scared. I get it." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I am too," she said weakly, at almost a whisper. After allowing her words to settle in, she continued further. "Tonight I plan on getting myself all dressed up and try to leave my 'baggage' behind," she said, referencing the comment that got them into this mess two days ago. "I'm going to go and try to have a good time."

She turned, and as he had been staring at the back of her head, their eyes met. A sad expression crossed her face. "I really would like for you to be there with me. But I'm going. With or without you." She said, trying to remain resolute, though looking at him made her a bit weak and wobbly. "I will be ready at 7 p.m. If you decide to go with me, I expect you to knock on my front door at 7 o'clock."

She swallowed slowly, continuing to watch him a moment longer but she saw no sign of what his choice would be, so she turned quickly and walked into her room, shutting the double doors a bit hard behind her. She leaned up against the closed doors, squeezing her eyes shut. She would not cry over a man she had only known three days, she told herself. She would not let herself be hurt. She would not let her heart be broken. She would not.

Minutes later, Lillian stood in the shower, water flowing over her hair and dripping into her face. Whether or not it was only water flowing down her cheeks, no one else would ever have to know. How many months of counseling had she just been through to get to the point where she was now? Where she believed she deserved something better than the abusive scumbag who had been her husband?

She had told James McMillan that he deserved love, friendship, or whatever he desired. Well so did she, she told herself in frustration. Then as quickly as the water flowed over her, her anger at James turned to fear. Had she been too harsh with him? Should she have been more compassionate towards the man who so clearly struggled with social interaction? Had she pushed him too far and ruined whatever—whatever it was that was happening?