Somewhere Between Black and White by Rosa Sophia, Shelly Hickman

jog
around the perimeter of the building, and Sophie was not one to resort to
physical activity for stress relief. 
    The next day she switched her major to
Education.
    “It’s like nothing can be taken at face
value,” Christian said. “Everything’s got to have some greater meaning.
Sometimes it does, but most of the time—no.  It is what it is.” He removed the
lid from his cup to crunch on some ice. “I hate it.”
    “Yeah, but if you want people to see
your stuff, you gotta play along.”
    He groaned, putting his hand to the back
of his neck. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
    “Sure you can.”
    Christian was dazed. “Your confidence in
me is . . . unusual.”
    Sophie gave him a supportive smile.
“Christian, why won’t you take the medication?” 
    Her question apparently blindsided him,
as he drew back into his seat. 
    “You don’t have to answer—I know it’s a
personal question.” Her arms were crossed as she leaned forward on the table
and thoughtlessly ran her fingers up and down the sleeve of her jacket.
    Christian’s mouth tightened. 
    “Evie says you don’t like the way it
makes you feel . . . It doesn’t make you feel happy?” Sophie pressed. “Because
you actually seem like a happier person when you’re taking it, at least to me
anyway.”
    His eyes turned glassy as he folded his
arms over his chest, turning the other way. “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know what?”
    “I don’t know why I won’t take it.” 
    “Why don’t I believe you?”
    “I don’t know, Sophie! Why don’t you?”
he snapped.
    She just held his gaze. She wasn’t
letting this go.
    There was a visible throbbing in his
neck and he covered his throat, as if his body betrayed him. With feigned
conviction, he replied in a tight voice. “I’m not sick.”
    Sophie pressed her lips together, trying
to figure out what to say. It was all coming together now. It had nothing to do
with the effects of some medication, but had everything to do with admitting
weakness, at least in his eyes. And there was nothing she could say to change
it. 
    “Okay,” she said. 
    From the time Christian began having
difficulties five years ago, Sophie had her doubts that this “depression” was
genuine, though she never dared voice it to Evie. But now? Now she was
experiencing her first pangs of sympathy for him, and she didn’t like it. It
was just easier to paint him as this numbskull who happened to be married to
her sister.
     “I have a question for you now,”
Christian said. “Since you obviously had no issue asking me what you did.”
    “Yes?” She was curious where this was
going.
    “What was going on in the gallery? Your
reaction to my drawing.”
    “Oh, psh! ” Her scalp prickled.
“It was stupid. For some reason, it reminded me of this movie I once saw.” Oh
my God! That was weak.
    “What movie was that?”
    She faked concentration, trying to
remember. “I’m . . . not . . . su-u-u-re. I think it was . . . It was something
with . . . Keanu Reeves?”
    “Uh huh.” He wasn’t buying her line any
more than she bought his. “That’s all right. I know it’s a personal question.”
    She narrowed her eyes in response, but
for the first time in a very long while, she felt a bit of an affinity for him.
“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”
    He simply shrugged. 
    “Okay, since I asked you such a personal
question,” she began, “I’m going to tell you something personal. And it
has to do with that picture.”
    “You’re going to tell me something personal. Me, ” he repeated.
    “As a matter of fact, I am,” she
answered with a raise of her chin. “Who knows? Maybe this will be some kind of
therapeutic breakthrough for us.” 
    There was a slight smile at her sarcasm. 
    “And not only is this personal, but I’ve
not told anyone about it, either.”
    “Well, now I’m really intrigued,”
Christian said.
    “That image, the one with the field of
grass. I’ve seen it