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.

Empty Rooms

Some time ago a friend of mine wrote a short vignette and sent it my way. This is my response to it. I haven't seen her in a while, but thought I would post the vignette I wrote in response to her. It's been too long since we traded words.

Empty Rooms

I come with the night, and sow doubt in your dreams, seeds pregnant with need and desire. Buried beneath the frost bitten grave that stands in memorial of our tryst, I summon cold winds to drape your unclothed feet so they can do not but trot the numbness that engulfs me.

You are the eyes that bare witness to my folly, doomed to hold within your vision alone that which can never be graced by the hands of man or fate—the honeyed fig that holds within it the Friar’s last gift to stars that remain crossed even as they fall from Grace. The taste of temptation lingers in the vibrations of my voice even as it rings in your ear, echoing the sound born as I crash upon the shores of truth. The fine grains there to slick to retain my essence, I fall victim time and time again to the whims of Artemis as she flees the footsteps of her brother, falling into a steady rhythm poised to swallow you in my wake.

Your eyes stand closed in anticipation of half wished release, poised between hope and fear, held taunt till muscles knot and skin quivers. From the depths of the sea I call you, igniting the wicker at your core and spreading heat that makes flesh melt like the wax of a thousand candles. No longer a steady pulse of unrealized want, now the steady sizzle of hot oils licking the surface of cold steel.
I step from your shadow swabbed in crimson and spice, yet your eyes see nothing but a ghost reflected in the polished surface of the oak.

Shade I have become in the days since the stars left their home and settled in the earth wrapped in cellophane. I stood to catch them but instead was caught and bound to this state of stasis perpetuated by cold indifference. Bile settles on my tongue as I turn to you and cry but find my voice stolen, my tongue turned to stone and settled on my shoulder to torment me for my crimes. My tears in turn rusting the twisted barrier that marks the boundaries of my prison. I once slick smile following my mind out of reality into madness.

The night has become my home. The rains are my only companion in this dark dwelling between your door and your light switch. Dark laughter cascades amongst the broken remains of our once treasured heirlooms, stars that have all but lost their light. Sickly light surrounded by dark and uncertain waters that I now call home. I come to you begging for light and the keys to my prison, for all I am able to offer is soggy match and keys corroded by the passage of time. I whisper to you in the dark, but you are afraid to traverse what was once familiar territory, but has now become a death trap of broken glass, broken furniture, and the scent of stale smoke which has become the essence of my being.

With the coming dawn I settle back into the deep, slipping back beneath the waves and into the steady rhythm that marks my battle with the shore that cannot contain my essence. I bow my head in silent prayer, hoping my seeds take root like vines in the stonewalls of your heart and spread through the delicate byways of your blood, giving life to succulent roses, that will cushion your feet from the broken glass left behind from my hasty retreat, and wipe the blood from your still lips.

I loved you.