Chapter VI – Inky Waters
Even after these years of watching people go through transition, friends and strangers alike, I couldn't honestly say that I'd ever seen the very beginning of the process – not even with Selphie.
While I'd been at her house on the day of her transition, I didn't notice her eyes and hair changing since we were having a girls' night in, which inevitably meant watching chick flicks on her big screen television in the dark. Selphie never did have a solid grasp on a little concept called 'moderation' so we'd also done the whole spa-type stuff with mani-pedis, facial masks and the whole robe-wearing, having towels in hair thing too. Of course, the combination of wet hair and said towels while being in the dark made both of us unaware that anything weird was going on. Well…until she decided to go to the bathroom after the movie was over to put the towel away in the hamper, that was. Needless to say, when her primary instinct was to hole herself up in the bathroom while mine was to stuff my face at the junk food buffet of chips, popcorn and candy Selph had laid out while she was absent – like I said, she really didn't get the meaning of moderation…and apparently, neither did I – it kinda didn't allow for me to see the magic to work its…well, magic.
I know I shouldn't have been thinking this, being fully aware of what this process could do to peoples' lives and all but, quite honestly, it was fascinating to watch firsthand. When we were sitting at the cafeteria table, it had only taken one literal blink of an eye for his piercing blue eyes to go cloudy grey – it wasn't a subtle change either, despite his eyes being bluish-grey to begin because the new colour was so…unnatural. If I'd thought that his eyes looked equal parts of foreboding and enthralling before, they looked downright foreboding and mysterious now. I did wonder if that was the final result though, considering everyone's turned from somewhere between dark brown to black, usually depending on what the transitioner's original eye color had been. I mean, Zell's blue eyes were far brighter than Squall's and yet he went chocolate brown just like Selph - and hers were originally emerald-green.
But regardless if it was or wasn't, the most interesting thing was watching his hair darken in front of me. No word of a lie, it was like someone had suddenly dumped an invisible can of black ink over his hair. The moment his roots started to darken, it was only a mere matter of seconds before every inch of his chocolate-brown hair had all turned to an inky shade of black, the shade pretty much matching my own hair colour. Weirdly enough, it didn't look so horrible on him, in fact-
"…Stop staring at my hair." he groused.
"It's not my fault all the elevators are all on the 5th level." I lamely countered. "What else am I going to look at?"
"The display telling us where the elevator is, the elevator doors, the floor…the list of things that isn't my hair can go on and on."
Though he was trying to be deliberately abrasive to get me to stop staring at his hair, I could catch a hint of nerves in his tone.
And so I deliberately started a staring match with his pyjama pants. I was pretty sure I was winning.
"…You're not funny." Having declared myself the victor by default, I graciously re-established eye contact with their owner. He seemed to appreciate it - the slight grouchy look on his face told me that much. Obviously it would have been much grouchier otherwise.
"Sorry…" I found myself saying, "It's just that I've never seen it happen in front of my eyes. It's kinda hard to look away."
"…My hair's already darkened?" he asked confusedly – I nodded.
"…Yeah, it's the same shade as mine. You'll probably be able to see it in the elevator's really polished steel finish." I explained. "Just…let me know if you're feeling lightheaded, ok? That sometimes hits you just as fast."
Squall gave me a curt nod and then looked away to eye the overhead display rather intently. Returning to my earlier thoughts, if I hadn't seen what he'd looked like earlier, I would have thought that this was his natural colour since it suited him so well. Heck, he could have easily passed for a relative of mine from the Caraway side.
…That is, save for his now-darkened eyes, of course.
Grandpa and Grandma Caraway had the most piercing grey eyes I'd ever laid my eyes on. And from what I remembered Grandpa telling me, it was a long-standing trait passed down from generation to generation. Not surprisingly, I think the Caraway family tree full of people able to insta-guilt you and/or scare the living daylights out of you with a single grey-eyed glance had something to do with it - I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if my relatives had staring contests for dates or something.
So um, weird tangents aside, obviously I broke, no, shattered, the mould, completely – the only thing I got from my father was his jet-black hair. Sadly, it was only until I got to this place when I finally understood why so many people were so uneasy around me all of my life – the black hair, really dark eyes combo wasn't exactly a popular one.
Dragging myself back to reality, I noticed that the elevator was just about due to open at any moment now. Squall was so stock-still that I wanted to poke him in the ribs to make sure he hadn't petrified on me. But instead, I stole a moment to reread the numbers on his back to indulge my earlier curiosities.
Cool lion? Check.
120583? Check.
082388? Ah ha! So his birthday was in August and he was going to turn 25. Guess he's officially the old man on the floor now.
041269?
04/12/1969?
April 12th, 1969?
…Ok, I really needed to ask him about that one – because it confirmed my thoughts about the number being too close to 83 (but did that really matter if she was adopted?) and since the coincidence was kind of eerie.
"Um…kinda-personal question." Seeing as the elevator opened at the same time, my question was ignored since Squall focused his energies on getting in it. I got in it too, but I opted to just go ahead and ask seeing as I'd sincerely doubt there would be any other time I'd be conveniently trapped with him alone. "…Whose birthday is April 12th?"
He looked at me as if I had two heads sprouting out of my shoulders. It precisely the reaction I was anticipating.
I pointed to my own back. "That number tattoo you have - I figured out that the first two were you and your sister's birthdays so I was curious about the last row of numbers."
He still looked at me like I was insane and/or sprouting heads in places they should not be. Alright then. Clearly, I have learned nothing from today's oversharing episode and so I decided to relegate myself to the opposing corner of the elevator for the 15 second trip up to the 2nd floor.
"…That one's not a birthday."
I blinked.
Naturally, the elevator doors just opened so he walked through them without elaborating. Drugs were truly the catalysts of weird.
"…Oh, ok." I found myself awkwardly mumbling. "I just thought it was kinda weird that the last line you had matched the birthday of someone I knew…well, I guess that the fact that it doesn't represent a birthday makes it all the more eerie of a coincidence."
"…I don't see what's so eerie about it. It's just a coincidence." he duly replied. "Seeking out patterns is typical human behaviour. Nothing special about that."
I would have rolled my eyes but the point was kinda moot considering I was pretty sure he didn't have eyes at the back of his head to appreciate the effort.
"Right. Well, I still think it's weird that the last row would have worked out to April 12th, 1969 if it was a birthday because that was my mom's birthday –down to the year, even."
For the second time today, I crashed into his back. Only this time I didn't say sorry – I'd learned my lesson from the last time. And so, I just took a step back. "You ok?"
"I'm fine." he curtly brushed off. Strangely enough, he lingered there for a second. There clearly weren't any nurses at the station - which was sadly a common occurrence - so obviously, he wasn't trying to stop and find one. Working on a hunch, I waltzed around him before he had the chance to keep on walking.
"You don't sound really convincing there." I shot back. "Are you feeling lightheaded?"
When he shook his head, I was tempted to use that as my cue to continue the interrogation. Tempted but I didn't follow through with it. His eyes just…they looked unfocused enough that it was all the proof I pretty much needed.
"Just stay close to me." I told him, stepping to his left to be beside him within arm's reach. "I'll help you find a nurse to look at you, ok?"
"…I'm not an invalid."
"You're right, you're not." I humored. "But you'll still need some help in finding a nurse and it's not as straightforward a task as you might think. I'm pretty sure they like to use subterfuge to avoid being heckled by patients while they're on break."
"…That word doesn't mean what you think it means. You meant stealth."
I wanted to chuckle a little under my breath. "That's why it's not straightforward to find them. They're actually using tricks to avoid being spotted."
"I call bullshit on that."
Now I was really chuckling. "Ok, you win – I was pulling your leg. They don't actually know the meaning of the word 'break.' But in any case, it's still just a simple process of elimination — if you insist that you're not an invalid, we'll have to check the rooms one by one and hope we get lucky."
"You'd better not be trying to get lucky under my watch, Rinoa."
I spun around, confused and…to be honest, a little embarrassed. It was only then when I saw a head pop up from behind the waist-high counter sectioning off the nurses' station area - Nurse Bear's mop of chestnut-brown hair to be precise. I guess she must have been quietly crouched down to pick up something the whole time.
"Ah…no, Nurse Bear." I said rather shakily, also trying my hardest not to look at Squall, though I wasn't sure why – she was probably the least intimidating nurse on the floor. "I was just looking for a nurse to check him out…I mean- check his condition, since…his hair and eyes just turned now…and stuff."
Shoot me. Shoot me now, please. Anyone.
Nurse Bear had an undeniable impish grin on her face as she walked around the counter and approached Squall – of course the said grin was directed at me before she fell back into professional caretaker mode at the drop of a hat when she directed her gaze at him.
"You're the boy who came with Ellone Loire, right? Not-Jim if memory serves."
Squall sombrely nodded.
"Thought so. Although…I probably shouldn't be calling you a boy at your age. You look like those days are long behind you." she said, talking to herself more than him as she reached for the tiny flashlight from her burgundy scrubs' pocket, proceeding to shine a light in his eyes. "…Hm, looks like a cloudy grey. I don't envy you, that's for sure. You're probably the first case of this in about 20-ish years."
Squall rubbed his eyes after the light was put away. "…Great. My day just gets better and better."
"Hey now, it could always be worse." Nurse Bear admonished.
"Pray tell, exactly what is worse than having your sister pass away without getting to say anything and getting sick with some atypical offshoot of this fucking curse?" he snapped, "Because right now, the alternative is looking pretty damn good."
Even though I knew he was lying through his teeth, aware that he didn't believe that his sister was dead just yet and simultaneously amazed at this convincing performance despite the drug-addling, I couldn't help but grimace all the same - not only for the situation, but for Nurse Bear walking right into that too. It's a sad state of affairs when the right hand sometimes didn't know what the left had done. I legitimately wouldn't have doubted the possibility of her not knowing what had happened.
Not surprisingly, she matched my frown. But more surprisingly, she dared to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, even dared to devote a long hard moment solely to lock eyes with his steely gaze too.
"…Hearing something trying to pass itself off as the truth." she solemnly muttered under her breath, her eyes flickering to me for a second as she lowered the arm. She then began speaking at a normal volume. "You'd best go back to your room soon Squall. If history holds up, it's going to be a difficult road ahead for you and you'll need all the strength you can get. Don't give up on me just yet, you hear?"
She looked at me again, practically looking through me even. "And I'm sure Rinoa can help you out if you need something when I'm not around. She knows better than anyone how the nurses around here ricochet around like pinballs in this place. Not that I'm condoning this 'getting lucky' business, mind you."
Squall shot me a skeptical-slash-bewildered look and I couldn't help but sheepishly grin at him and the situation.
"So no buying winning lottery tickets, Nurse Bear?" I joshed, attempting to diffuse things a little.
"Nope, not unless if you plan on cutting me in the deal somehow. I desperately need to take a vacation…or just to retire, period." she said in a rather matter-of-fact way before turning back to Squall once more. "I know, I know, you probably want to whack me with a tuna or something right now for going randomly off-topic. Let's go to your room and I'll give you a rundown of what to expect – no fishy business, I promise."
Squall looked at me once more. Clearly, his brain just processed the fact that he wasn't floundering in shallow waters anymore - this was the deep sea he'd been dropped head-first into.
Ok, so maybe Nurse Bear wasn't the only one who enjoyed really bad puns…not that I'd ever tell a sole.
…Ugh, I cod-n't believe I just did that.
