Mariel had been told that she’d been born white as wedding-cake frosting, but she wasn’t white anymore.
She looked down at her hands and saw the yellow collected on her fingers like she had been playing with corn flour. It was the yellow of a fall leaf, of tarnished golden crowns, of pestilence, and she wanted it gone.
She wanted her normal colour back. The yellow had started on the index finger on her left hand, but now it was on all her fingers except for the pinky of her right hand. It was spreading, and now her eyes frequently drifted down to her hands and fixated on every dapple of yellow.
She had turned pink during her teenage years, and now she was in college, growing in hue and complexity, but then this, this abnormal yellow, made others avoid her.
“You should try not to pick at it”, Micah said as they walked down the road. “It’s only going to turn more yellow.”
“You don’t know that”, Mariel said.
Micah stayed quiet. He was there to support her as her longtime friend, but part of her wanted to be alone. Shame was also a yellowish colour. She had wanted her boyfriend to come with her to Kiowa, the healing center, but her insistence had turned him into an ex.
She stared ahead as they walked, looking for Kiowa. It was a wooden compound on the edge of the city where people washed away unnatural colours. They had scented pools, infused with different herbs that cleansed deep. Often, she imagined dipping her hand into one of the pools and seeing the yellow on her finger drip off like paint. She had scrubbed her fingers till they bled but that only dyed them red for a moment or two.
“They say crazy things happen out here”, Micah said, “But if there was something that could be done, the doctors in the city would have already done it. I’m not trying to be a downer, but you should adjust your expectations”.
“Expectations set to disappointment”, Mariel said. As they crested the hill, she saw the tops of Kiowa’s wooden buildings and was impressed by its size. It sprawled out in different directions and was so large that Mariel wasn’t sure where to enter.
“Disease is a good business model”, Micah said as he looked around.
“You can ask for whatever you want.”
“We’re here for guidance”, Mariel said. “This is my last chance.”
Mikah pointed the way towards the entrance. “I’m sure that desperation is filtered into their business plan. It’s a surcharge of sorts.”
She ignored him as they walked into the main lobby and gaped at the vaulted maple roof with its accents of cedar. The lodge stood as a conglomerate of different coloured trees, but Mariel only wanted to get to her room.
She handed her identification card and credit card to the receptionist who smiled as she found their reservation. While she waited, she noticed the yellow had spread to her pinky finger as well.
They settled onto their respective rooms, and a brief phone call let Mariel know she could see the master healer in a few minutes. Mariel spent the time changing into a long green dress. She didn’t want to feel underdressed when she met the legendary healer. Micah knocked on her door. His room was down the hall. She opened the door to find him in his swimsuit and looking so excited that he was a shade of blue lighter.
“I’m going to do me some intense healing at the hot springs”, he said. He turned and headed off with a wave.
“You’re not coming to see the master healer with me?”
“There’s got to be something fun to do in this wood polished arboretum.” He waved again, and he was gone, leaving her with her yellow.
A few minutes later, as she stood in front of the master healer and knew she was overdressed. He stood by the window wearing a pair of thin, blue gym shorts over his light blue body and nothing else. He was middle-aged and unshaven.
He stood there looking confused, poking at his blue skin as she walked in. “Our bodies are such mysteries sometimes. Your intestines get infected and yet your head hurts. Try to figure that one out.”
She saw a couple of chairs next to a small table in the large, otherwise empty room. It reminded her of pictures she had seen of Japan. She sat on one of the chairs, and after a moment he sat down as well.
“So, what’s the problem?”, he asked.
Mariel placed her hand on the table and looked away. The yellow had spread down into the palms because she had picked at it. For days, she had tried to recall what or who she could have touched to get this, but no specific moment stood out. That first moment was likely quick, a drop of raw colour grazing her and then spreading. She did not know exactly how it worked, but she had heard stories. Bits of colour blending with a person until their hue slowly turned darker and darker.
“That will take a day or so to go away”, he said as he looked at her hands. He spread her fingers with what looked like a chopstick.
“What’s going to happen?”, Mariel asked.
“It’ll go away for the most part”, he said. He walked to the wall and opened up a panel to reveal a closet she hadn’t seen before. In a series of deft movements, he mixed together an ointment and grabbed some orange gauze.
“For the most part?”, Mariel asked. “I want to be cured.”
“Disease isn’t just about being cured. It’s about acceptance”, the man said. “Even after you recover, this disease will always be a part of you.”
“That’s gross”, she said.
“That’s medicine”, he said. “Healing takes both steps to be complete. Besides, it’s just a hand.” He sat down to wrap her hands up with the ointment. He whistled while he bandaged, and Mariel looked out the window, waiting for the moment to feel better. She had felt afraid for far too long, and as she stared at the orangish-yellow hue of the retiring day, she wondered if fear was its own disease, and if so, what colour did it turn you? The more she looked at the sun, the more she hated it. These last few days, she saw yellow everywhere.
Later that evening, Micah knocked on her door. He still wore a swimsuit, but he had changed suits from earlier.
“Where did your other…?”
“It’s a long story involving the rose-infused hot spring”, he said. “I wouldn’t dwell on it.” He stared down at her bandaged hands. “How’s the mummy look going?”
“He said that it should take a day or so”, she said. “He seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” She stood there, unsure of what to say next. Disease killed most conversations.
“Let’s take a walk”, he said. He moved to grab her hand but stopped short of touching her. “It’s nice outside.” He waved for her to follow him.
She pulled on a wrap to keep warm and followed him out into the courtyard. The rock and bamboo garden spread out in all directions, and random hot springs revealed themselves through plumes of coloured steam. The walkway was lit by long series of footlights. They walked side-by-side, but as approached other people, they glanced down at her hands and then moved to the side.
“You remember when we rode the Ferris wheel, and we got hit by an earthquake?”, Micah asked.
Mariel focused on the road in front of her, wishing she had brought something more concealing. “I screamed for like 2 days.”
“I couldn’t stop laughing”, he said. “The ground was shaking, and we could hear the steel groaning, and we both clung to our little swinging chair, which wobbled all over the place. We might fall at any moment, and there was nothing to do.”
“The world felt like it was ending”, she said.
“But when it all was happening, I thought death by Ferris wheel was just the funniest thing I could imagine. You screamed so long and so hard that parts of you turned gray for days.”
“That happens sometimes when you’re scared”, Mariel said. “Nothing strange about that.” A couple who looked like they were married and in a fight of their own saw her and turned around. She wished her bandages were a more neutral colour. They highlighted her disease like a notation in a book.
“Let’s lie down for a minute”, Micah suggested.
“Why?”
“Maybe we can feel the Earth spinning”, he said. He found a patch of grass and stretched out. “The Earth flies through the air at roughly thirty kilometres every second.”
She sighed. She laid down next to him on the grass and looked up at the stars, and for a second, she almost felt the Earth flying. She gripped the grass with her bandaged hands.
The next day, she met with the master healer again. She dressed down and found him wearing a simple white linen gown. They sat together at the table as he unwound her bandages.
“No peeking”, he said. “People are always in such a rush.”
“Just excited”, she said.
The bandages came off, and the harsh yellow was gone, but her hands had shifted colour slightly. They were no longer their regular red. Instead, a faint orangish hue clung to them. “Is that normal?” she asked.
“It’ll get better with time, but yes, that’s normal.”
She didn’t understand, but she stayed quiet. “Well, thank you. I think I’m all healed.”
“You’re recovered”, he said. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Sure”, she said with a smile. “Of course.” She almost offered her hand, but then she thought better of it.
Micah was waiting for her outside. He was already packed and was holding his small overnight bag.
“You ready?”, he asked.
“I just need to grab my things”, she said. She headed to her room, and as she walked, she marveled at her hand. The orange was there, but she had to search to see it. She wondered how clearly others could see it.
As they neared her room, a woman walked towards them in the hall, her face was partly covered in bandages and a splotch of gray showed on each of her cheeks. Mariel pressed herself against the wall. The woman gave her a pained glance as she passed, but Mariel focused on staying as far away as possible. Whatever colour that woman had, she wanted none of it.
