Chapter 3: Azul

"Where the fuck were you?!" Faith screamed the moment she saw my face.

I couldn't look her in the eyes; I had already set them on the grungy floor before I dragged my cement feet through the orange door. As usual, Cinna Buns sprinted around my feet. But then my cat took a few whiffs of my ankles and sat a foot away, peering with unimpressed blue eyes.

That obvious, huh?

Faith yelled again, "Ada, 'what the fuck?', I asked!"

"I went back to my old place..." I quietly admitted. My voice that still hadn't recovered from the onslaught of going too hard on a Friday night.

She was still incensed, "Why the hell wouldn't you–"

"... with Ezra," I finished.

Faith held her tongue. It wasn't until I lifted my head that I confirmed her shocked face.

"I don't understand," she admitted.

Feeling nauseous, I swallowed hard and professed, "Neither do I, but it doesn't matter. He left."

"Where?" she murmured.

"I don't know. But all I know is that he should be gone for good," I shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes, "What do you me–"

Kindly, I interrupted her question, "Faith... it doesn't matter."

"Girl, what?" she scoffed with a cock of the jaw. "You won't even tell me?"

I returned half of a blink, as I turned my eyes away. That sadness in her last question was getting to me.

I straightened my back, but kept firm attention on the floor when I told her, "I don't want to drag you into this anymore. I'm sorry for getting so messed up last night. I shouldn't have, but I did. And I disrespected your time by making you worry. I'm even more sorry for coming home hours before we have to leave... completely hung over."

"What happened?" she tried with more empathy. "Ada, talk to me. You're my friend. I want to know what is really going on."

I refused to look at her, scratching my palm as I impatiently waited for her to give up and accept my previous answer.

Faith shook her head. "Ada, even as one of the most considerate people I know, you'll never let me down gently. Now, I don't even give a shit that you were fucking missing, but now you won't even talk to me."

I felt the crack inside of my chest spreading farther from my left side.

Faith took a few seconds to quietly propose her next question, "Ada, are you okay?"

Finally, looking up, I shrugged one shoulder, "Yes. I'm getting everything I asked for. Why wouldn't I be?"

Faith opened her mouth, but I just smiled and said "I'm going to get ready now. I'll see you in 30."

She kept staring, hoping that the eventual discomfort from being constantly watched would break me. However, I found a way to change the subject whenever I lifted my head during the train ride. She would entertain me each time, humming and nodding– sometimes answering with one full sentence.

But her peering didn't come to an end until we left the platform and were struck with the early morning light. God, it was it a relief to be far away from the Business District, and it was better knowing that I wouldn't have to venture there for a long time, after I moved the rest of my belongings out of the old apartment.

The apartment.

The last thing I should have done was leave more memories behind to veil an old closed door. The more I thought about what I did, the more I felt like I lied to Faith about being hungover. There was no way I couldn't have been after all of the reckless drinking.

But my brain was only slightly faded, and I remembered every second of last night. It was the first time in a long time that my chest didn't hurt from the thought of losing everything that Ezra and I had. No, I wasn't sad. But I wasn't proud either.

I can't feel anything.

Luckily, I wasn't too distracted from my internal analysis of what the numbness meant. I turned to my right and saw the little, warm smile on Faith's lips as she stared at the large school that was mere blocks away. Now, I was no longer numb. The sharp pain flashed in my chest because I wasn't sure what I was doing anymore.

Do I want to lose you too?

Of all the friends of the past, I couldn't believe that she still stuck by all of my horseshit. Faith was always known for being able to get around on her own and without any help. Loneliness wasn't something I thought that she understood, though... she knew how to be alone. It was always an admirable quality about her. She never had to be with anyone, she didn't need to have that false sense of security that most of us always felt that we needed.

But she still asked me to be a part of something really personal– her future.

And I wonder why.

Her hands rose and gripped onto both straps of the guitar bag pressed against her back. She was beaming, and I was even more disappointed in myself.

To think I almost ruined this...

With this much determination, she wasn't going to have to be signing in as a volunteer instructor on Saturdays at the Anne G. Academy for the Deaf.

It was a large campus, soaring six stories high. The new brick and mortar stood made it stand out among the surrounding plots on the corner. Dark, slivers of metal set a perimeter around the premises, and a large sign with the school's name greeted us as we walked through the open school gates.

"You're glowing," I teased, the moment we entered the school's lobby.

"No, I'm not," she childishly grumbled before shoving the pen in my face.

I was sliding ink across the sign-in sheet and continued, "And I wonder why..."

"Shut your hungover mouth," she whispered, a bright flush covered her face.

I put down the pen and lifted up my chin, refusing not to show her the malicious grin on my face. Before she could condemn me I snuck in, "He's coming."

"Oh God!" Faith mouthed.

"Good morning, ladies," the Volunteer Program Coordinator warmly greeted from down the hall.

He was dressed in nice, or what some would call 'dapper', attire. The first time I met him at my interview, I found it sweet that such a corporate guy that worked in that huge tower in the Business District would be so passionate and dedicated to the volunteer work at the school on his weekends.

"Good morning, Mr. Mulligan," we both greeted, though I was humorously side-eyeing my friend.

He cheerfully lifted a finger to pause, before he signed his greeting for our practice. I had finally got it down, though I did pretend not to know how to finish my sentence.

"I don't remember how to sign 'Mr. Mulligan'," I lied, while elbowing Faith.

"Oh don't worry about it..." he began, but his statement finished with his eyes on Faith. "... you can just call me Chester."

Aha!

As much as I wanted to encourage more friendly embarrassment, I opted to leave her and her colorful demeanor alone.

"I'm going to go find my class now," I murmured, while poorly concealing my mischievous grin at them.

"Are you sure you don't need help to find it?" Chester prompted with haste.

I shook my head, and batted my eyes back and forth between the two of them, "No sir, Mr. Mulligan. The directions were straightforward in the email."

Faith fixed the horrified look on her face the moment our coordinator turned back to her, and I took my opportunity to scram.

She's going to kill me later.

The printed map in my hand led me to the purple door to my first volunteering session, after a short flight of stairs and two left turns. I was actually happy to be out of sight from my friend. Without her concerned eyes, I was immediately immersed in a world without gravity. I couldn't feel my feet, as I dragged them through the decorated halls.

A smile twitched at the side of my lips, observing the variety of artwork that covered the walls. The left side, jungle themed with many monkeys from orangutans to gorillas; the right side, space themed with personal renditions of the solar system. Some of the planets were two-dimensional, others were three-dimensional– floating around in space that wasn't outer space.

Over the last week I had not thought too hard about the first lessons that I would teach. In the past, I had always slid by by working off the cuff. My ability to get by at a times notice would work as reassurance. However, the second I pushed through the door, guilt instantly struck me over the head. My past luck suddenly felt like a crutch.

What is happening?

I smiled, but it was frigid. Twelve little faces had bearing in my direction, and suddenly I was scared. Miguel, my assigned interpreter, was sitting on a stool by a long window. Salt and pepper strands were dashed through the hair around his head and jaw. If he hadn't smiled at me, I would have shattered into a thousand pieces. Instead, I took that as my cue to gravitate toward him.

"Buenos días, Ms. Young," he chuckled to himself.

I took in a deep breath and nodded, in response, barely making eye contact with him.

He reassured me with a cheeky smile, "Don't worry. You're not the first volunteer to be nervous about teaching at their first session here."

"I wasn't nervous until I just walked through that door," I awkwardly confessed.

"Are you scared to teach deaf children?" he questioned, a slight smile still on his face.

I shook my head, and tried to laugh off, "No. That's not it at all. It wouldn't have made sense for me to volunteer then."

"That is true, but as you said it's not until you walk through that door that you realize the reality of the situation," he said with high brows. "But..."

Miguel looked at me with more discretion. "You've never taught before, at all, have you?"

"I have..." I lowly confessed. "... but not to children."

He smiled big again and whispered, "I see, I see."

"I'm sorry. I'm wasting time. Let me get started," I sighed before putting turning away to put down my bag at the desk.

"Good morning," I smiled, signing my greeting.

They're so little.

From my peripheral I could see Miguel translating, as I said, "My name is Ada Young. You can call me Ms. Ada, and today I want to teach you all how to explore painting with colors and their different meanings."

Once, I saw their faces light up, the pit of my stomach entered mayhem. Without making it obvious that I was suddenly uncomfortable, I did my best to ask, "What is your favorite color?"

Though the class was integrated, most in attendance were either hard of hearing, deaf, or hearing, I couldn't easily tell who belonged to which group. A few shouted their answers with excitement, until I encouraged them to raise their hands first instead. Suddenly, I was starting to feel a bit of joy seeing their faces continually beam with their little fingers in the air.

I pointed the a little girl with hearing aids quietly answered that blue was her favorite. I wasn't surprised, seeing as to how her aids were also bright blue. I pointed to others who were desperately waiting to answer the question.

I repeated with a smile, "Blue... green.... Pink... blue again."

The last student, holding up his tiny palm, signed his answer.

"You also like blue? How come blue is your favorite color?" I asked with a tilt of the head.

He quickly signed his answer, and Miguel repeated, "Because I like to color with blue when I'm happy or sad."

"Thank you..." I returned to the small boy. "... thank you for sharing."

I abruptly turned to Miguel, who laced his fingers over his lap with a warm smile. He then pointed to the cabinets to my left, and I found the variety of paints that appeared freshly stocked in the room. It took me some time to move, but I grabbed a jar of tempura paint and large paintbrush that was nearby. My hands were full but I knew that they weren't staring at the items in them.

I began to announce with a cracked voice, "Okay, class, since 'blue' was the most popular answer, we will um... "

I was shaking. Miguel was eyeing me too, waiting to take what I had to say next. His curious brown eyes were peering at me, studying me, but I couldn't do anything under the scrutiny. That feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to be feeling never let me go.

'...when I'm happy or sad.'

I was overwhelmed with my own thoughts again. I wanted to finish what I was saying, but I couldn't. Instead I looked down to the floor in with confusion, wondering why my vision had turned into a blur.

Suddenly, Miguel pointed to me, signed, and most of the their little feet hit the ground, dashing to the paintbrushes and available canvases in the back of the classroom.

Shocked at the instant activity, I felt the gravity on me when I spotted the two hearing students who were delayed in their reaction to join their peers.

Freshly snatched from my haze, I asked Miguel in a panic, "I'm so sorry. What did you tell them?"

He tilted his head back. There was still a welcoming look long his face when he pointed at me and confessed, "I asked them to paint how blue they think you feel." 

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Hey all, 

So my semester has finally ended, and I finally have more time to write. I do apologize a lot for delays, but I really feel like I have to because I had such a plan in place when I began to upload. However, school was a bit overwhelming as was family life and etc. I can balance my schedule again, and finally be on my way to writing and uploading chapters of this story more frequently. 

P.S. 

As I stated at the beginning of the book, there is a hidden playlist in the story. I will state how many songs there are per chapter at the end of each upload! :D

-Love you all,

Mayen

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Number of hidden songs:  1