Page 15 of We May Be Fractured

Colour-blind

[Now playing ? Spectrum—Florence + the Machine]

A aron’s second Saturday at the retirement centre saw him back on graffiti duty with the same team as last week.

Ria attacked the graffiti with a vengeance, while Landon remained his usual quiet and focused.

Meanwhile, Maeve, Nyle, and Cliff worked plant duty with Muhammad. Or better, Muhammad was the one getting his hands dirty. Voices carried over to where Aaron worked, with Maeve saying something about “not a single speck of dirt on my shoes,” and Nyle whining over his now less-sparkly jumper.

Aaron shook his head as he picked up a brush. The lot may be a quirky bunch, but he was starting to appreciate the variety—a welcome distraction from his own troubles.

He still hadn’t heard back from Tom about a second shot at the wildlife park, and rebooking his ticket to Australia was pending.

The Southern Lights were pretty much off the table now, and Aaron had stopped fixating on every new photo that popped up on his socials.

Just a few more months, and he’d be back on his feet. This was only a bit of a blip.

“So, Aaron, what’s your deal?” Ria asked as she scrubbed at some spray paint. “Are you done with school? Got any uni plans?”

“Nah,” Aaron replied, working on a patch of graffiti. “I’m off to Australia soon. I’ll be working at a wildlife park.” At least, he hoped so.

“Oh, right, you said that at Nyle’s, didn’t you? What’s it gonna be, wrestling kangaroos or hugging koalas?”

“More of a koala guy.” Aaron cracked a small smile, though nothing like the sheer joy Tori always had for the furry critters.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” Ria glanced at him, her brush dancing over the wall.

Landon chimed in without looking up. “Cute, but they’re like prickly cacti personality-wise. Not as cuddly as they seem.”

“I like a challenge,” Aaron replied.

Landon huffed and went back to his scrubbing, but Aaron swore he saw the slightest uptick at the corners of his mouth.

“Did you know koalas have fingerprints almost like ours?” Aaron added, remembering one of Tori’s fun facts. “So similar, you can barely tell them apart, even under a microscope.”

“Really?” Ria paused, her brush mid-air, a spray of droplets flying. “Imagine using that at a crime scene. ‘Wasn’t me, officer, must’ve been a koala.’”

Aaron laughed. “And what about you, Ria? What are you up to when you’re not scrubbing walls or sparking debates at parties?”

“Well, I’m majoring in Gender and Sexuality Studies. Big into the LGBTQ plus community too. That’s sort of what landed me here.”

“Oh yeah? How come?”

Ria leaned on her brush, taking a breather. “A group of us were protesting for queer education in schools. We wanted LGBTQ plus topics included in the curriculum, you know, to teach kids about all the different queer identities and histories.”

Aaron remembered Ria being quite vocal about sexuality at the bonfire. “And then what happened?”

“We were doing our peaceful thing when this anti-LGBTQ plus lot turned up. They started kicking off, shouting all sorts of rubbish at us. Police stepped in, and next thing you know, I’m in handcuffs.”

“That’s rough,” Aaron sympathised.

“It’s the way it goes sometimes,” Ria replied, diving back into graffiti removal. “It’s all about making a change, isn’t it?”

“The only change I want to see is these walls looking pristine.” Sarah’s voice cut through the air. “Enough chatting. You lot were my favourite because you’re quiet. All the chatterboxes are with Muhammad. But I’m starting to doubt that…”

They all got back to it, the vibe shifting to more focus, less talk.

As lunchtime approached, the two groups took a break from their tasks and met outside the conservatory. Landon quietly slipped away, heading towards the withered cherry tree at the centre of the gardens.

As Maeve joined them, she continued her lively chat with Muhammad. “You know, Muhammad, you have a way with plants. It’s almost magical.” She touched his arm. “Are you always this eager to get down and dirty?”

Muhammad coughed and leaned back. “It’s just years of practice, Maeve. Nothing magical about it.”

Behind them, Nyle appeared less amused. “Great. There’s dirt everywhere.” He groaned, picking at the fabric of his jumper. “This is going to be a nightmare to clean.”

Then Maeve shifted her attention from Muhammad to Landon. “Hey, look at Landon over there, brooding away.”

They all turned to him.

Cigarette hanging from his mouth, Landon appeared quite angry at the tree as he stripped away pieces of bark and scuffed the soil around its base with his combat boots.

“Is the psycho planning to chop that down?” Maeve asked.

“I’d help him if he was,” Cliff joked. “Can’t figure out why they’ve kept that awful thing around.”

“Nobody’s chopping anything down without my permission,” Muhammad intervened. “Let’s focus on lunch now, shall we?”

The group moved off to find a spot to eat, but Aaron hesitated, watching Landon. Something about the way Landon stood there made Aaron think there was more on his mind than just the tree. Did he want to get rid of it, or was something else bugging him?

*

S omehow, they ended the day with a visit to a nearby pub, which Nyle jokingly referred to as Aaron’s initiation into the world of twenty-somethings.

Aaron wasn’t keen—he just wanted to crash at home—but everyone else, even Landon, was on board with the idea.

As they entered the pub, the smell of stale beer hit Aaron, the air thick with it. His trainer’s sole kept sticking to the carpet with each step.

They squeezed their way through the crowd, trying to make themselves heard over the pop music blasting from the speakers and the constant hum of chattering people. The place was packed, every table occupied.

“There’s one free over there!” Maeve pointed to a secluded table at the back just as its occupants stood up.

“Quick, before someone else grabs it,” Ria urged, leading the charge.

Landon hung back, letting the others pick their spots first. He then smoothly took a seat in a corner, his back against the wall.

Aaron eyed that seat with annoyance and curiosity, the perfect spot offering a clear view of the whole place and an easy way out if needed.

Plus, it’d be ideal for keeping his phone screen to himself.

But Landon, already settled in, left Aaron no choice but to sit opposite him.

As everyone debated what drinks to order, Maeve decided Landon should do the honours, seeing as he was closest to the bar.

Without a word, Landon jotted down the orders and made his way to the counter. Aaron watched him for a bit, then, acting on a whim, followed, figuring he could lend a hand.

Landon gave him an annoyed glance. “Go back. I don’t need help.”

“Maybe not. But I want to make sure you don’t poison my drink.”

“That’s insulting.” Landon replied, laced with humour. “If I were going to get rid of you, I’d at least do it fairly.”

“So, you’ve thought about killing me like your ex-housemate, huh?”

“It’s crossed my mind a time or two.”

When the bartender placed all the drinks on the counter one by one, Aaron was surprised to find a cola among the beers. No one had mentioned it.

“Don’t you drink?” he asked.

Landon looked at him, puzzled. “What do these look like to you?”

“I meant alcohol.”

“You don’t need to drink alcohol to socialise.”

Aaron was about to say more when the familiar tune “Something Just Like This” filled the pub. He quickly helped Landon with the drinks, his mind swirling as they returned to the table.

He sipped his beer, hoping to loosen the knot in his throat.

It was stupid, how a simple song could trigger such intense emotions.

His necklace felt too tight, the pendant pressing into his skin.

Aaron considered going back to the bar for a peppermint tea, though he doubted whether it would be enough to settle him.

The rest of the night blurred into jokes, beers, and chit-chat. Aaron sat there, his mind miles away, replaying old memories.

Across from him, Landon also seemed in his own world, half glued to his phone, half zoning out. Aaron couldn’t figure out why he even tagged along if he was going to be so out of it. Next to Landon, Cliff worked on slowly getting sloshed, his head bobbing as if on a spring.

“Hey, how about we grab some gelato?” Nyle suggested. “Someone I work with at the museum, who’s actually from Italy, told me about this amazing place just around the corner. Says it’s proper Italian.”

Maeve’s eyes brightened at the suggestion. “Gelato? Count me in!”

Despite not being into it, Aaron agreed to go along with the rest of the group. They all finished their drinks, then shuffled out, with Landon trailing behind, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

On the way, Nyle quipped, “I think Landon’s the only person on the planet who doesn’t like ice cream.”

Landon, hands deep in his oversized hoodie, shot back, “It’s not that I don’t like it. Just not my thing.”

“So, are you gonna have any with us tonight, then?” asked Nyle.

“Nope.”

“You’re an odd one, hun. Likes his sweets, but gives ice cream a miss.” Nyle then turned to Aaron. “What about you, dear?”

“Not my thing either, but I’ll give it a try.”

Nyle sighed in frustration, but as they reached the gelato shop, he peered excitedly at the display. “Look at all these. What’s everyone having? I reckon the hazelnut praline’s calling my name. And that pistachio—so green.”

Aaron scanned the crowded array of swirls, crumbled toppings, and shiny drizzles. Most of them looked the same, impossible to guess without the labels. Whatever Nyle was raving about didn’t look all that tempting.

Maeve, sensing his hesitation, nudged him. “Got a favourite, Aaron?”

He hummed, not sure what to pick.

“How about something with chocolate? Like stracciatella? Can’t go wrong there.”

“Don’t bother, Maeve,” Cliff cut in. “The weirdo’s allergic to chocolate.”