Red Ink, Chapter 3

I stood shivering in the rain outside the hospital.  My throat was raw from the sobs that had racked my body for that last hour.  I was spent and alone in the dark, but I could not go back to that room. 

“God,” I whispered through chattering teeth. 

“Why?”  I asked. “Why?”

I looked up to the heavens, but the only answer I got in return was a rumble of distant thunder and the pitter-patter of rain on my face. 

“Fuck!!!  FUCK YOU!!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.  It was clear my questions and threats were going to go equally unanswered.

I had to escape.  It did not matter where I wound up I just had to get as far away from this place as possible.  I chose a direction at random and began walking.  By this point my clothes were completely soaked, but I did not care.  I did not care about my clothes, the rain, or anything.  I just needed to keep moving, to do something other than sit and wait.

“Is this Mr. Dupri?” 

Cars zoomed by me as I wondered along the side of the road lost in the haze my thoughts.  My path zig zagged on and off the sidewalk as I replayed the night in my head.

“Mr. Dupri, sir.  There has been an accident…”

The sound of a blaring car horn startled me back into reality.  I hesitated for a breathe as the car barreled towards me, but jumped back onto the sidewalk expelling the air from my lungs.  This was no good.  I could feel the helplessness of earlier creeping back to the surface threatening to unsettle my momentary composure. 

I looked on either side of the street and spotted a bar with its lights still on.  I darted across the street, this time paying careful attention to the oncoming traffic.  There was light music seeping out of the bar onto the street outside. 

There wasn’t a bouncer so I just walked in and grabbed a seat at the bar and looked around.  It was nearly empty except for a couple sitting at a table in the corner and a few old timers sitting at the end of the bar talking to the bartender.  It was exactly what I needed.

“Well you look like shit,” one of the old guys barked with a grin.  “Didn’t your mama teach you to come in out of the rain.  You are as wet as a dog.”

I looked down at my soaked clothes, “I guess your right.”

“Lay off the boy Mike,” the bartender said as he walked over to me.

“What ya havin’?” he asked.

“Jack.  Straight up,” I replied.

I watched as he poured the drink and handed it to me. 

The lobby smelled like Lysol and I could feel my hands sweating. 

“So, what you doin’ at a bar in the middle of the week looking like you feel in a pool wit ya clothes on?”

“If you don’t mind, I didn’t really come here for conversation.” I spat back.

“Have it yo way.  You just looked like you needed to talk a bit,”  he said.

You can go in, but you should prepare yourself

I downed the whiskey and let its warmth thaw the chill in my chest before responding. 

“What is the use of talking it won’t change shit,” I said.  “All I want to do right now is have you refill my glass.  That would be a big help.  And this time make it a double.”

I offered him a crooked grin that didn’t reach my eyes along with my now empty glass.  He gave me a look, not buying my bullshit grin for a minute, and refilled my glass.  I picked it up I knocked it back without a wince.

“One more please.  You can put this one on ice,” I said smooth as silk. 

The bartender simply poured and headed back to the old timers.  I wrapped my hands around the glass and stared at the amber liquid. 

I stood in front of the door trying to will myself to take one more step.

I took a sip from my glass.  I could feel the effect of my previous two shoots starting to take effect and sighed as I could feel my mind drifting off.  Hiding from that room even in my thoughts. 

***

I don’t remember how long I staid at the bar, but I do know I was good and drunk when I left.  The bartender wanted to call me a cab, but I refused and stumbled my way back down the street.  The walk seemed even longer on the return trip and by the time I got back to the hospital my legs were about to give out. 

It took all of my remaining focus to retrace my earlier steps back through the winding corridors of the hospital.  Left.  Right.  Left. Right.  Until, I found myself standing back outside the door just as lost as before.  My hand trembled as I reached for the door handle, but I willed it still.  I opened the door, took a breathe, and walked in. 

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I promise to reveal who is in the bed at the hospital in the next chapter.  Lol, I know I have been dragging it out a bit, but I was trying to decide between a few things that I hope will make the wait worth it.

Red Ink, Chapter 2

"Hey.  You getting in or not?" the cab driver asked.

I did not reply and instead simply climbed in the back seat of the car.  I had been standing outside for the last 10 minutes trying to hail a cab and I was dripping wet from the rain.

"You deaf or what?" the cab driver asked.

"What?" I said in a faint whisper.

"I said, 'Where to?'" he repeated.

"I need to go to Washington Circle.  Down by I and 23rd."  I replied.

"Down by the hospital right?"

"Yes," I said.  I was surprised by how calm I sounded.  I had spent the entire time pacing back and forth on the street trying to stop my brain from thinking.

The cab driver just nodded his head and pulled away from the curve.  I looked straight ahead while  trying to ignore the loud Arabic music coming from the radio.  I could see the cab driver looking back at me through the rear view mirror, so I turned my head at stared out the window.  The cab driver could sense my mood and did not attempt to engage me in conversation.  

The ride was uneventful and allowed me time to relax my nerves.  The woman on the phone had been vague.  It could be anyone at the hospital.  

"I could be anybody," I whispered to myself.

It was not long before the cab driver pulled up outside the hospital.  I tossed him a few bucks, hopped out, and made my way to the lobby of the emergency room.

"Hello sir.  May I help you?" asked one of the nurses behind the desk.

"I am not sure," I said as my voice unsteady.

"Well let's start with the basics honey.  What's your name?"

"Dupri.  Adonis Dupri," I replied.   

"Well, I am sure that we can figure out what you need.  Are  you hurt or sick?"  she gently asked.

I simply shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"Okay.  Are you here to see someone else?"

I gave a slight nod.    

"Do you know the name of the patient?"

"No."  I answered.  "I mean, I don't know.  I just got a call and they said there was an accident and I needed to come down.  Here."  I could feel my earlier calm slipping away.

"Okay sir.  Not to worry," she said.  "Let me just check my log book and we can see where you need to go.  You just go take a seat there sir and we will get you taken care of.  How does that sound?"

I walked over and collapsed into the seat she had indicated.  The lobby smelled like Lysol and was making me feel nauseous.  I looked down at my phone waiting to hear Chrisette's voice trying not to get nervous as I waited for the doctor.  

'Mr. Dupri?" I heard a voice ask.

I looked up and saw a young man in a white lab coat holding a clip board with a bunch of papers on it.

"Yes.  I am Mr. Dupri."

"Hello Mr. Dupri.  My name is Dr. Tate."  He reached out take shake my hand but I simply looked at him until he lowered his hand back to his side.

"Earlier this evening we had a patient who was brought the the ER.  They had been in a pretty serious car accident and suffered a great deal of trauma.  The patient has been in surgery for the last 3 hours and is now in recovery,  Now there..."  

I interrupted him and said, "I am sorry sir, but I still don't know why I am here."  

"Oh.  I am so sorry," he said.  "When the patient first arrived we couldn't find any identification.  The only thing we found was a cell phone.  We scrolled through the most recent calls and saw your number listed several times."

I tried to swallow but I could feel my throat tightening.

"We were hoping you could help us identify the patient."  The doctor looked at me but I simply looked at the ground avoiding his eyes.

I took a breathe to steady myself.  Then I looked back up to meet his gaze.  

"Alright then.  Show me where I need to go."

"Please follow me," he said leading me through a winding set of corridors.

"Now, I worn you you might want to brace yourself.  The patient suffered massive trauma and has been in surgery for the last few hours.  It's still very touch and go and they are very heavily sedated."

Sooner than I would have liked we were standing in front of one of the trauma rooms.  I could feel my chest constrict as he opened the door and stepped into the room.  I tried to fall him, but my legs wouldn't move.

'Mr. Dupri?  Sir, if you could just step into the room."

I tried to take another step but halted as I glanced into the room.  All I could see were tubes and bandages.  Black swollen skin and the smell of sickness.  And then I saw it and my foot froze mid-stride.

"I can't.  I can't I can't.  Can't can;t," my words began to jumble together and my resolve shattered.  All of the worry and pain I held been holding in swelled to the surface as my eyes focused on the hand lying on the bed.  On the index of the right hand I could just make out the gleam of a silver ring with a onyx setting.  I would know that ring anywhere.

"Mr. Dupri," the doctor urged.

"Can't..." I said as I burst into sobs and fled back down the hall blinded by the image of a silver ring against black skin.

Red Ink, Chapter 1

The lights were dim as I crept into the bedroom, the sound of my feet muffled by the steady beat of the rain outside my window. Despite the downpour outside, I was determined that everything be just right. It had been three months since I last saw Terrell and everything had to be perfect for our reunion. I wanted to call the airline one more time to check and see if his flight was still on time despite the heavy rain and thunder, but I had already called twice and knew I was just anxious. Instead, I turned on a little Erykah Badu, closed my eyes, and tried to relax.

Just as I started to calm my nerves, my cell phone began to ring. Unconsciously, I quickly glanced down to see who was calling. I did not recognize the number, so I immediately pressed ignore. Didn’t they know I was waiting for Terrell to call and let me know he was in a cab and on his way home? I didn’t have time to waste talking to some random ass caller.

I gave up on trying to shake my anticipation and nervously looked around the room, checking everything once more. As I turned around our apartment, my gaze fell on an old picture of us sitting on the dresser.

Terrel was wearing a snug pair of dark blue jeans, a fitted white tee that accented his tight frame, and a trim chocolate sports coat that complimented his caramel complexion. Everything about him dripped of urban sophistication and you couldn’t help but get caught up in his brownie-tinged eyes and ever present smile. Even two years later, a photo was enough to get my blood pumping. With all of that Hershey’s goodness to gaze at, it was easy to overlook the guy standing next to him.

I picked up the frame to get a closer look. My hair was a lot shorter in those days. Just a small neatly trimmed afro; nothing compared to my now shoulder length locks. Clean-shaven except for a well-groomed patch of hair nestled on my chin. Skin the color of roasted almonds, I was all business in my navy blue dress shirt, black slacks, and tie.

My phone began ringing again. I reminded myself that Terrell’s special ring tone was Chrisette Michele’s “Love is You” and quickly preceded to ignore the phone, loosing myself in the picture.

I started to smile to myself as I remembered the day we took the photo. It was the beginning of my junior year of college and I was at a New Student Orientation event, tabling for the Black Student Association. I hated doing these events and would have much rather been at home curled up in a chair with a book and Lauryn Hill playing in the background. I had already been sitting there for two hours, when in walked Terrell.

“Helloooo everyone. My name is Terrell Davis a.k.a. Mr. Personality a.k.a. The Truth. Nice to meet all of y’all,” he declared with a slightly southern drawl.

Conversation stopped as everyone turned to take in our new arrival. To say he woke me up would be an understatement.

I could hear as everyone, myself included, shook their heads and mouthed “This Negro.”

Terrell was not to be deterred though; he confidently walked into the room and proceeded to parade around introducing himself to everyone. I watched as he walked up to each table tossing his brilliant smile and hugs around like M&M’s, allowing them to slowly melt and spread their sweet taste all over the room. I sighed to myself.

I could not stand him.

I can not help but laugh as I recalled that little fact. It’s funny to think about it now, but when I first encountered Terrell he urked my nerves. I generally did not have a problem with people with an abundance of confidence. I was a Black man at an elite university, I was used to encountering people with an over abundance of self-esteem, but I felt Terrell was just being extra and making the rest of us more mild mannered Negroes look bad. I was tired of playing the role of the welcoming upperclassmen and decided to call it quits before I had to deal with another outburst of Mr. Personality.

As I began to pack up my flyers, I was interrupted by a voice.

“Hi. My name is Terrell,” he said with his hand extended.

“Hi,” I replied while silently thanking the powers that be that he didn’t attempt to put me in one of those hugs he was tossing around earlier. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, in case you didn’t notice my mocha complexion, I am a Black student and you seem to be from the Black Student Alliance. I want to know how I can sign-up.”

“Sure, here is our e-mail sign-up sheet,” I responded and pulled out the paperwork I had been putting away. “Let me grab you a pen.”

I was reaching for a pen in my bag when a girl with a camera interrupted us and asked, “Can I take a picture of you two for the paper? We are running a story on diversity programming during New Student Orientation and I need to take a picture of all the ethnic clubs.”

Before I could object Terrell shouted, “Of course, girl.”

He slipped around to my side of the table and put his arm around my waste.  I tried to subtly slip from his grasp, but he had a firm hold on me and I did not want to make a scene.

“How is this?” he asked.

Ring. Ring.

“Shit!” I said to the empty room, my daydream ruined. “Damn phone.”

I set the picture frame back on the dresser and reached for my phone more than a little irritated that my moment of nostalgia was being interrupted.

“Hello. This better be important,” I growled.

“Is this Mr. Dupri?”

“Yes. Who is this?” This had the makings of a telemarketing call and I had no time for that shit tonight. My beau was on his way home.

“Mr. Dupri. Sir, there has been an accident. We are going to need you to come to the hospital.”

My heart froze and the phone tumbled from my hands.

“Mr. Dupri? Mr. Dupri, are you still there sir?”