All My Colors

Chapter II - Inside Looking Out

The art room is really nothing special at first glance. It seems almost empty: just a desk in the back left corner, an armoire to the immediate right of the doorway, and my easel and stool in the middle of the room. The walls are painted a deep blue and various colors of acrylics splatter it near the molding as well as the hardwood floor. I take pride in those splatters... They don't soil the room... They enhance it. On the right wall, a large painting hangs of snowfall in a typical front yard, with my signature in the bottom right-hand corner. I think of this emptiness as just room for my creativity to flow.

I walk in front of the armoire, and throw the loose socks that were recently hurled at me in the bottom drawer. I take out a t-shirt and shorts, change out of my pajamas, and sit on the dark brown stool as I begin my day. When I finally get an idea for something to paint, I tell myself, I'll go outside. Grab a bite to eat somewhere. Catch a movie. But that'll never happen. I get too carried away in my work for that to be possible. After fifteen minutes or so, I pull my stool over to the window, and lean my head up against the wall. I like to stare into the outside world every now-and-then. Maybe I just like to look down on people. I don't know. It's kind of a game, really... Wondering where everyone is in such a hurry to get to. Why they won't just slow down and take a breath. But New York is a busy place, with busy people and busy streets. It's gotten worse as the word 'modern' has became the replacement for 'futuristic'. I guess that's why nobody can take their foot off the throttle nowadays. I look down on the hundreds of people on iPhones walking along the sidewalks, and the seemingly infinite number of yellow taxis that flood the roads. Maybe I'm the last kid that still believes all of this isn't necessary. Hell, maybe it is.

I would hate to be Blaze right now... Trapped in a cubicle; not able to think freely outside of your assignment. The building she works in is right across the street; sometimes I see her in the window, and she's never smiling. Then again, when is she? Still, I get the feeling that inside there, it's not Hell... But you can see it from there.

I think of Pops a lot when I look outside. I wonder what he'd think of all this. He always said that, one day, when I was older, we would take a summer off, get in the car, and just go north. He always wondered what it was like up here. How people acted and talked; how they functioned. It seems silly to think of it like that; like you're traveling to a distant planet... But, honestly, where I come from, you might as well be arriving by spaceship. Life is a lot different in the Big Apple when compared to Spartanburg, South Carolina. Pops lived in Greenville, which is a noticeably more populated city, but still a village compared to New York. Up here, you don't know the names of all your neighbors. You can't stop on the side of the road to help someone out with car troubles and suddenly realize he or she is your best friend from high school. It doesn't work that way in The Empire City. It's not a small world. It's a galaxy packed into four hundred and sixty-eight square miles.

I wonder what Pops would think of me... Of what I've become. I'll admit it; I'm a sinner. There are a lot of things that I've done before that I'm not proud of, most of which I'm too embarrassed to talk about anyways, which only gives me more of a reason to keep those thoughts in the dark depths of oblivion where they belong. However, Pops's only wish was for everyone to be happy; and I'm happier now than I've ever been in my whole life. Given that, I take it he's proud to call me his grandson, wherever he might be.

Finally, I sigh, seeing that if original material may ever enter my brain again, it won't be this morning. I walk through the living room into the kitchen, and pour myself a glass of tea.

I open the door to the common room, which is about the size of the living room. Really, it's nothing more than an entertainment room, complete with an air hockey table, pool table, and television. To the left, two glass doors lead out to a small balcony. I find two hedgehogs: one ebony with red stripes on his quills playing air hockey with a solid cobalt one. These two would be Shadow and Sonic (in order), two of my better friends. Sonic lives across the hall with his best bud, Tails, while Shadow and his girlfriend Rouge share this room with us.

It's kinda' weird how it all came together... Blaze and I moved up here from the south because she wanted to take journalism classes in Queens, while Sonic came here on an athletic scholarship from Pennsylvania and brought Tails and Shadow along for the ride. Rouge is a New York City native. I became friends with all of them my freshman year at Syracuse University, so naturally Blaze was kept in the loop. Needless to say, we all got pretty lucky finding this apartment complex when it was just opened... And here we are. But, enough of the past...

"'Sup, Silver?" Sonic says.

I shrug, "Same old everything." I take a seat, and sigh. "Blaze went off on me again..."

The ebony one scratches his head, "Better to just go with it. You know, her mom was just put back in the hospital a few days ago..."

"She didn't tell me. More chemotherapy?"

His expression softens, "I'm not so sure, Silver... They said it's not looking good..."

Oh, yes, reader... I forgot to mention that Blaze's mother, Miss Kay, has breast cancer, something that's right up there with her job on the stress-o-meter. She had been clean of it for some time now, but it came back about a year ago. I guess a whole lot stronger. That's really not good. That's the last bit of family Blaze has got left. When we moved up here several years ago, Miss Kay came with us, and she helped us out a lot financially. Back then, she was perfectly fine... But now it's different.

I don't know if it makes a difference or not, but every night, in the darkness, I get on my knees and pray for them. I pray that Miss Kay will be healthy again and that Blaze would stop worrying about everything, that she could finally get some sleep. At any point in the nighttime, I can wake up for whatever reason, and hear her rustling in her bed. There's no telling what's going on in her head at those times.

Unfortunately, I'm not too sure either are possible. I never pray for myself, as I feel that I don't deserve to be prayed for. Besides, I care for Blaze far too much...

Yes. It's true. I'm in love with her. Have been for a while. I'm not sure what it is... Her personality... The way she acts in certain situations... Her face itself... I just love everything about her. That's why I'm so down when she's angry at me: I only want to please her. I've never told anyone that... I know she doesn't feel the same way, and if word got around, it would make for a very awkward conversation.

I think about us a lot. What we'd be like together; the things we'd do. I'd also be lying if I said I had never thought about her in... That way before... Oh, I'm just a pervert. No wonder she hates me... Is this normal? Do others think about things like this like I do? I don't know why I'm so inclined to fantasize about love. I guess it just makes me happy, for whatever reason. As the late Andy Warhol once said: the most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet.

And that's just what this is. These particular opposites shall never meet outside of my imagination.

"Care for a game of billiards?" I hear Sonic say, in a playful tone. He leans back against the table, "Ow!" He yells, winces, and grabs his elbow. "Hit my funny bone... Why the hell is it called that?"

I laugh, "Should be called the 'God almighty' bone." I lift my cold beverage to my lips. "Rack 'em up."

The 'bang!' of Shadow's first shot echoes against the walls, almost making me flinch. Now it is my turn. I walk around the table a few times, trying to pick the best shot. I notice a small gap, take a few moments to line up a shot, and barely miss the corner pocket. That gives a fairly easy shot to Sonic, who banks in the yellow 'one' ball with a behind-the-back shot. That's a lot like how we live our everyday lives, when ya' think about it. Some take it slow and consider their next move, while others just go for it, whatever the case may be. A reward can never be expected from either tactic.

And that's all for now! Uh... I hope it's okay that I'm using real-life places like this...X,P Hope it doesn't take away from the story any...

Thanks for reading! Love you all!