Light Boy Blue Lake

A trick of the light creates a reflection where one set of bus windows mirrors the view from the opposite. Yvonne watches in awe as both sets show identical red, blue, silver cars running counter to the bus. As it veers on a turn, the bus reflects twin sidewalks bathed in sunlight, but it’s only in one reflection that Yvonne sees a boy rollerblading.

Cutting a wide arc with his foot, the boy in the reflection spins mid-air and lands with one foot on the concrete, wheels sliding like figure skates. Yvonne tilts her head, wondering how the sidewalk could be smooth enough to treat like ice. The boy’s body is long and lean like a bent spoon, dark face smooth and shiny in the morning light. Touching her own bumpy skin, she pouts, jealous of his clear skin.

Following the bend of the bus as it rounds another roundabout, the boy and the mirror image disappear in shadow.

Leaning back in her seat, Yvonne focuses on the remaining two stops before she arrives in the city. A glass screen separates her from the platform next to one of the backdoors. It’s there, that, in a flash of sunlight, she meets the boy’s eyes. Hers widen, his blinks, and the moment passes.

Feeling her quickening pulse, she wonders what it could mean.

♦

Nightfall means the windows mirror the inside of the bus. Yvonne sits in the seat in front of the glass screen, her favourite spot. The glass screen reflects the empty rows behind her. She adjusts her bag and looks up to see the boy in the reflection. Whipping her head back, she confirms the back seats are empty, but the boy still stares at her through the glass.

He speaks.

“My name is Derrick. Yours?”

Yvonne glances around the bus, checking to see if anyone else reacted to his voice. Is it in her head? Has her daydream come true? Has it evolved?

Debating whether to take out a piece of paper and show it to him, she notices the glance of one of the ladies boarding the bus and decides to take out her phone.

“Hello? Yes, this is Yvonne speaking.”

“Yvonne. Where were you born?”

“Here. You?”

“Canada.” He stretches in his seat.

“Nice skating today,” Yvonne ventures.

He pauses then raises an arched eyebrow.

“I’m glad someone saw. Beginning to think I needed an audience.”

Yvonne nods. In the glass, he’s just two rows behind her, but if she were to look back again, there would be no one.

“Are you real?”

He leans on the edge of the seat in front of him.

“What do you think?”

“I—I thought,” Yvonne catches a side glance from one of the people in front. She clears her throat. “Why are you there and not here?”

He sucks in a breath, weighing the option of answering.

“I’m not dead if that’s what you’re asking.”

His eyes flash with the lights outside. Strange for a reflection.

“But I wanted an escape from people.”

♦

He—Derrick—doesn’t show up in her mirror. In any mirror. When Yvonne tilts her phone in the morning light, his lips move on the screen.

“Meet you at the lake.”

“Civic?”

“I wanna talk.”

She doesn’t have class today, and no friends, so it works out well. She watches Derrick rollerblade at all the regular bends and catches his smile at a successful jump spin. A triple axel? Quadruple loop? Smiling back, she resists the urge to clap. An old woman sees her smile and compliments her twin buns.

“Where are you from?”

Derrick asked where she was born. He gets it. If he was real, they’d be good friends already.

If he is real.

She gets off on Commonwealth Avenue. The spring air chills, but blossoms scatter in the grass. It’s fresh, a new start in a waning year at uni, full of studying, awkward socialising and silence.

Sometimes it chokes her, sinking in the abandoned office space of a lone library.

The fountain springs her from her thoughts, dropping her attention on the pristine surface of the lake. It reflects a blue sky, herself and Derrick standing next to her. She takes out her phone while waving at the surface.

“A jogger just gave you the side eye,” Derrick snickers.

“Let him stare. I’m with a friend.”

The word cripples on her lips. Too soon?

Derrick smiles, an action that shuts his eyes to make room for his wide teeth.

“Yvonne, my new friend.”

Strolling along the edge, he begins the awkward but necessary exchange.

“What are you studying?”

“Science. You?”

“I would’ve done Comms or something.”

“Lucky.”

“Switch then.”

“No, I like it, but I wish I’d made more friends.”

“Why?”

“Labs would be… less awkward.”

She means less like drowning, talking in bubbles while others move away from her, trapped in her own fish bowl.

“Well you don’t need them anyway.”

For emphasis, Derrick kicks into a triple loop.

“How long have you been skating?” Yvonne wonders.

“Since I was five.”

“Did you continue it when you moved here?”

“For a time, before…” Derrick does a jump spin, skating backwards on one leg. “Things happened.”

Yvonne nods, ignoring the chasm in his words.

“What’s your favourite colour?” She asks to distract herself.

“Not blue.”

“Why?”

Derrick jumps again but doesn’t answer.

“Yours?” he asks.

“Uh, blue.”

“Why?”

“It’s lonely.”

“And I’m not.” He smiles at Yvonne. The gleam of it stings, like he’s gloating.

“But aren’t you alone?”

“Not really.”

“But are you glad—”

“To be alone? Yes.”

“—to talk to someone again?”

Derrick turns to her, blinking. “Yeah actually.”

“Then what’s your favourite colour?”

He smiles. “Okay, well it was blue at one point. Now it’s gold.”

“Why?”

“Because of your earring.”

Yvonne touches it, feeling butterflies pulse with the contact.

“When it flashes from the bus, I get so happy.”

Yvonne smiles. “That’s what happens when you make friends.”

“It’s been a year since I’ve made friends.”

“Same.”

“But it’s better this way.”

Yvonne frowns. “No. It’s never better this way. You’re human, you need—”

“People are what made me want to go.”

She crouches before the lake surface. “Bullying?”

Her fingers reach towards his face in the water.

“Water’s toxic young lady.”

She jumps, turning to see the shaking head of a passing jogger. When she turns back, Derrick’s face is gone; a strange blue fish darts through the water.

♦

Watery are the voices muffling through the walls of the office space. Yvonne imagines they’ve left her in the deep with little oxygen left in her tank.

Her laptop blacks out. Tearing her headphones off, she vows never to let a song loop on repeat.

“Hey.”

She blinks. The face staring through the dark screen isn’t hers.

Derrick laughs.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I barely know you.”

And there it is. The chasm, deep as it is unapproachable. In her underwater world, it’s a trench where the currents don’t suck you in. They spit you out, far out.

“No, Yvonne, you’re my friend.” And friends tell each other everything.

His story ends with the blue fish, the strange entity that brought him to the world of reflections. One minute it swam in the lake, the next it hovered next to him. Everyone else moved across the water’s surface like a movie in another plane.

♦

“How come I haven’t seen this blue fish?”

This time they’re walking along a pond. Flowers riot along with crowds of people come to see them. Music murmurs from some distant stage. Yvonne walks along the water where the blossoms are few and people flock away to brighter blooms.

“It likes to keep to itself.”

Yvonne smiles. To anyone strolling past today, that’s how she looks like too, a loner. She raises her head at the sound of squealing laughter and blinks at the sight of a nearby couple throwing water at each other.

Both she and Derrick exchange a grimace.

“Water’s toxic,” she says, crouching closer to his reflection. Derrick stills his rollerblades and looks up at her.

“Wish I could put a flower in your hair.”

Yvonne looks down at her knees. “There are already so many on my skirt.”

“And I haven’t seen any blooms that match them yet. Let’s keep looking.”

The walkable edge of the pond disintegrates at a craggy tree. The distant music is audible enough for Derrick to take his cue—to the jazzy pluck of a double bass—he bops along, spinning and tapping his feet while skating backwards. Then the wail of a trumpet puts his fists to his chest as he executes his first jump. Triple lutz. Yvonne claps, but with less enthusiasm than usual. There’s something sad about the way he moves, as if he’s the only one to ever see what he’s doing, the only one to ever know the anguish on his face. It’s the blues that’s playing on stage. How long will Derrick drown in them?

“What’s wrong?” he asks her.

Yvonne shakes her head. They’ve circled back the way they came since there’s no way forward for her. No way forward for him.

Derrick leans closer. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“You looked so lonely.” She faces him. “How could I not?”

“Lonely?”

“Your skating.”

“Oh that,” he laughs. “Guess I can make hearts move.”

“Derrick, don’t you want—”

“I found them!”

Yvonne frowns but spots the patch of flowers Derrick points to, iridescent blue buds like the ones on her skirt. A crystal ball rises above them, reflecting the pond. Derrick appears in the centre of it, winking at her wide eyes. Behind him, a flash of blue scales whips its tail at her before splashing in the pond’s reflection.

♦

“Sometimes it follows me.”

Yvonne blinks, pulling her cardigan over her shoulders. To think it was warm enough for an early summer before. The blooms are gone.

“The blue fish?”

“Yeah. It’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Derrick skates ahead, leaping into the air. Triple axel. Yvonne applauds, mesmerised by the way his image arches with the fountain spray.

“And it’s bigger now.”

He waits for her to catch up.

“Big enough to… I don’t know.”

Nerves press against Yvonne’s throat. “Have you ever wanted to come back?”

Derrick hawks out a laugh. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to.”

“Ask the fish?”

“It doesn’t talk.”

They walk in silence for a bit, leaving the fountain far behind. The path curves, heading straight for the bridge to Aspen Island. The National Carillon rises like an impasse.

“You don’t want to come back.”

Derrick turns to her. “Don’t take it personally.”

“But you’re lonely!”

A strolling couple slows to ask if she’s okay. Yvonne shakes her head, holding back tears. Derrick’s reflection morphs into her own, the first real sign that this was all in her head.

“The truth is you’re lonely, and I’m lonely…”

♦

Her mother reaches her room in time to see Yvonne hurl her laptop at her bed.

“Who do you think paid for that?”

Yvonne sinks to her knees.

“Mum, I think I’m going crazy.”

“No, you’re not.” Her mother gathers her up, bringing a part of her face to the surface. “Is it exams again?”

Yvonne nods. It’s November, nearly a month since they’ve talked.

“Then you’re stressed.”

Her mother takes her laptop away, where Yvonne thought she’d seen him, but couldn’t tell if it was all in her head. He wouldn’t talk; the silence fills with water, drowning everything.

♦

“Yvonne!”

She surfaces. Grabbing her phone to see what time it is, she catches a flash in the grey morning light.

“Yvonne! Help me!”

She sits up. Another flash shows her blue, endless blue. Throwing on clothes, she only stops to tell a groggy mother that her exam is at eight.

The bus takes her through all the usual bends. It’s too early for the sun to create any reflection, any idea of what’s going on. She holds her phone up to every angle but finds nothing.

Stumbling onto Commonwealth Avenue, she sprints for the lake edge. There the clouds hang over her panting face. Was she imagining things?

“Yvonne!”

He skates past, jumper torn. Behind him, sharp silver teeth flash before a glittering length of blue scales, big as dinner plates. Yvonne races to catch up.

“Derrick!”

Screw the one jogger slowing past.

Catching up, she keeps up with Derrick’s rollerblades.

His face flails with fear.

“I don’t know what to do!”

The National Carillon beams like a lighthouse ahead. Yvonne zeros in on its bridge.

“Turn at the bridge! It’ll lose speed!”

She sprints onto the bridge, watching him succeed somewhat. The blue fish loses speed. Yvonne grabs the railing, hauling herself up.

“Stop! Water’s toxic, remember?”

The blue fish jets forward, mouth gaping. Yvonne dives. Derrick leaps. Their fingers touch on the water’s surface before it splinters apart.

♦

A part of Aspen Island is a beach facing north. The bells inside the National Carillon strike the hour in a chorus of chimes. Yvonne startles but can’t move, right hand somehow pinned. She scrunches up her nose to the strong scent of sewage.

A finger pokes its tip. “Sorry. Haven’t showered in a year.”

Blinking her eyes open, Yvonne finds her hand gripped tight in another.

“Thank you,” Derrick says.

Yvonne brings their entwined hands to her face. Breathing the stench in, she feels the calloused ridges, the place where sand chafes against skin; she shakes her head, eyes prickling. Derrick feels real, smells real, but when does the dream end?