Erythrophobia

“Hi, Mum. I’m at A & E, but it’s nothing serious,” Amber blurted out, as soon as her mother answered the phone.

“Did something go wrong with that extraction?” her mother, Kim, interrupted. “I wish you’d let me go to the dentist with you this morning!”

“No. That was fine – well it was ok. I felt a bit sick when I left the surgery, so I decided to take a taxi home. We were waiting at a red light in the high street, when a van hit us from behind. The taxi driver called the police and an ambulance – just to be on the safe side.” 

“But are you ok?” Kim demanded hurriedly.

“A few bruises and a stiff neck, but that’s it.”

“Right, I’ll tell my boss what’s happened and then I’ll come and get you. I’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

There was a slight pause at the other end of the line, and for a moment Kim though that Amber would ask her to stay at work.

“That would be great Mum. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Amber hung up and sat for a few seconds staring at the phone screen. Now the initial shock was beginning to fade, she was acutely aware how lucky they had been.

She had always hated waiting at red lights. The idea of having to obey a series of signals before the traffic could move on did not irritate her, but the fact that the light was red. For some unexplained reason, she had hated the colour red since she was a child. As a toddler she had driven Kim to distraction by refusing to eat any food that was red. Kim had to buy apricot or blackcurrant jam for her, instead of the family’s usual strawberry or raspberry, because Amber refused to eat red jam. She only ever ate brown sauce on her chips, never tomato. As she grew older and began wearing makeup, she purchased pink lipstick and nail varnish, never red. At a push, she would drink red wine, but only a very full-bodied one that was virtually purple. 

Friends often queried her strange behaviour, but she had never been able to explain it. Amber had searched the internet, trying to find a name for her condition, reasoning it would be more impressive and less embarrassing if she could tell people, “Oh, I suffer from whatever-it-is,” rather than just saying “I hate red.” The whatever-it-is turned out to be erythrophobia. A phobia of the colour red. The first time Amber used the term in a conversation, she was asked what it meant. Amber had furnished an explanation, adding, “I thought everyone knew that!” She soon discovered that was a clever final phrase, as it prevented any laughing or sniggering.

Now that Amber was sitting in an A & E Department, she began wondering what had caused her erythrophobia. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the first time she had felt a dislike for something red. Her mind strayed though and she began having flashbacks. She was sitting in the back of a car, waiting at a roundabout, when the car was hit from the side. Her body swayed the opposite way, as the impact spread and she grabbed the seat in front of her, stretching her hand as far as she could to touch the headrest.

Amber suddenly opened her eyes. No that was wrong. She had been sitting in the front of the taxi and they had been hit from behind. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. Maybe it was something caused by the accident, although the x-ray had not revealed any damage to her skull or neck. 

Amber leaned back on the bed, deciding to rest until her mother arrived. The anaesthetic the dentist had used before removing her molar was wearing off now and her jaw and neck were both throbbing. That had been part of the reason why the paramedics were insistent that she came to A & E: they could not be sure that her pain was caused by the extraction and not the accident.

Amber was uncertain if she drifted off to sleep or whether it was another flashback, but in her mind’s eye, she remembered turning her head and seeing a red truck thrusting its way into the side of the car as it hurtled towards her. It shuddered to a halt just inches from her face, making her scream until her throat hurt and the tears began streaming down her face.

She lay on the hospital bed shaking. Everything seemed so real and vivid.

“Are you ok, love?” 

Amber opened her eyes, to see her mother approaching the bed.

“I’m not sure.”

Amber explained everything she had experienced over the last few minutes.

“I don’t understand it Mum. It doesn’t fit with what happened on the way back from the dentist.”

Kim sat on the edge of the bed and took Amber’s hand, obviously weighing up her choice of words carefully before she said anything.

“Not this accident, but an earlier one. When you were about five or six, you were in the back of the car when we were hit by a lorry. It was the middle of winter and the roads were covered in black ice. The driver was trying to brake, but his vehicle skidded and he couldn’t avoid us.”

“And the lorry was red?” Amber queried.

“Yes. Bright red. Scarlet really.”

“That makes sense now,” Amber said, smiling lopsidedly, as the pain in her jaw kicked in again.

“What does?”

“Why I hate red. The lorry was red and it nearly killed me.”

Kim thought for a few moments, digesting this new notion.

“I suppose that could make sense. How do you feel about red now?”

“I’m not sure, but now I’ve found a logical reason for my fear, I think I can deal with it.” 

by Josie Gilbert