Rewriting Red

“Which color?”

“Not Red” – I typed. Then deleted.

Do you seriously erase a color from your palette for a person? Is that a thing. It shouldn’t be a thing.

“Um .. shades of blue?” I typed back.

“Ah…well, this model doesn’t really do blue that well. Are you open to shades of red? It has a great shade that suits it well.
Here …see.”

It was a handsome car. And Krish was right. Somehow the model carried that shade really well.

In fact…it was a car that I could well imagine Abhishek and me in. With Spotty ruining the back seat, jumping around, hanging his tongue out and pushing his face through the window, showing off. Chasing the wind.

“Telllllllll.….” His excitement was palpable.

The phone pinged. Snapping me out of my future flashback. I hadn’t had one in a while. Krish was great. Things were great. Abhishek was the past. A very long and impressionable past but a past nevertheless.

I had avoided Red. Subconsciously. All these years. It had been one of those unpredictable facts you stumble upon in the early days of meeting someone new. Abhishek’s favourite color was red. He was totally opposite to a red. I had put him off as a Black. Elegant, quiet and melancholic. With a sense of humor just dark enough and witty enough to make him popular across all ages and genders. Just like black. And so red, being his favourite color was a surprise.

His bike was red. His cycle was red. His penstand was red. The dial of his favourite watch was red. His laptop cover was red. His bag was red. Ofcourse, all different shades of red. Nothing eye sorish.

But it seemed, red was the only flash he let himself have in an otherwise perfectly grounded, balanced and off the rule book life. Red was his rebellion to the normal, the boring, the everyday that his life was. Red was his escape.

“Um…can I think about it?” I typed.

“Why? Anything to do with an ex? 😁 “ came the reply.

I smiled. Krish was uncannily close to the truth as always. He saw me. Got me. In a way no one had done before. He called out my bullshit. He made me laugh. He made me feel things I thought I would never feel again. He made me happy.

Could I rewrite red with Krish?

“It does. But … it’s time to move on. I actually looove the red. You’re right. It’s perfect for the model. We’d be turning heads on the highway for sure.” I typed back.

The image of Abhishek, me and Spotty in a handsome red XUV on the Mysore Highway, sailing through the window, laughing, switching our playlists, talking, exchanging kisses, faded out. Leaving a blank space. A white space.

“Awesome. Aaand… It’s booked. We get it on the 25th. First ride to Coorg? I drive...” Came the reply.

I skipped a heart beat. The dream was coming true. Just the hero had changed. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as I replied with a thumping red heart.

Written as part of write club Bangalore’s session on Hues in writing.