Fire In The Water

by Janice Ross

  "Lisle," Rupert barked out, breaking away my loneliness. He brushed past me while moving to the right of the room. I shifted, studying his flight until he dipped low. My reflection from the mirror in the closet revealed a less of a man whose day was shaping up to be a turning point. Perhaps the cusp of my existence.

  Lisle's slender, pale body lay lifeless. Three wide steps set me to my father's side. An empty pill bottle cried out. One hand rested on a silver camisole, while the other on the floor.

  "Open your eyes, Lisle." Rupert passed his fingers across her blank face. The color had already begun fading. He tried to pluck open her eyelids, even brushed at her lips. "No sweetheart." His voice quivered in such a way the words slashed at my gut. For once, I believed in my parents and their connection as more than the two people who made it possible for me to exist. "Get an ambulance, Rhys."

  I was frozen in space, destroyed to the core. My brain sent a message to go–now! There was an urgency to the command, but I couldn't quite yet. Burning tears welled up behind my eyes, a slow and painful stiffness settled into the left side of my chest and I became ripped inch by inch from within.

  "Get help, or so help me God," he berated. His tenor cries snapped any weakness. I set off in search of a phone, to secure medical personnel to save my mother from herself.

  ~

  After calling 9-1-1 as well as the front desk attendant, I assisted my father in forcing Lisle to throw up. This was far from decent. In fact, I couldn't help but study his gentle, caring actions as we carried her into the large, his and her bathroom with platinum fixtures and silver settings. He kept her near, pleaded with her to fight for herself, for me and even for them.

  "I need you here. With me," Rupert cried out. In fact, for once, he wasn't just a businessman with respect. He loved. He had a heart to love, and it was breaking for the woman he'd been married to for the past twenty-eight years. Nothing in the world was capable of making me doubt his love for his wife right then. And from the spark of the light filtering through the room, his glossy pupils studied Lisle's brokenness. Slow-burning tears rolled slowly from his eyes, eventually settling on the contours of her delicate face.

  "You're gonna be all right, sweetheart," Rupert blew the words against her lips. He drew her into his polo, hugged and caressed, kissed and promised a better future if only she survived.

  "Ugh," Lisle groaned.

  "Don't move. Stay still. I'll take care of you." Dear God, he'd gotten down onto his knees. How could a man so stuck on himself shift suddenly to humble himself like this?

  Raising my arms above head, I wrapped the palm of my hands to the sides of my head to pace left to right. From one shitty thing to another, this day had drained me more than any other in all of my life.

  EMTs arrived within a few minutes. They rushed us aside and out of the bedroom. The entire home had me hyperventilating, so I stepped out into the hallway. I needed to break away from those things that had weighed me down. The bullshit of the day now crashed down on me like an avalanche. Within seconds of my back being pressed to the hallway walls, I sank to the ground.

  An innate desire to be strong forced me to smoother all signs of weakness stinging my tear ducts. I sniffled, even passed the back of my bare arm across my nose. I willed myself to wear an armor of bravery. Not just for me, but for Lisle. Hell, it was all for her.

  I sulked about fifteen minutes more. Rupert's thunderous boom argued over "private matters" being kept under wraps. He didn't feel it was necessary to take my mother out on a stretcher.

  "Seriously? She can't walk on her own." I confronted a different man from the seemingly devoted husband from minutes earlier.

  "Rhys, I didn't ask your opinion," he belted before turning to face the medics. "You can put her on a stretcher once we're downstairs. I'll have my men ready the back elevator for you, so pull the ambulance around."

  At that point, I knew what he was getting at. As much as he wanted others to believe he loved his wife, this would draw too much attention.

  Unbelievable!

  After slamming the sole of my shoes to the wall at the entrance, just enough to leave a brown mark without breaking through, I mumbled "fuck" under my breath and walked out.

  For a second, I considered going back, but moved through some older, curious neighbors who'd hung around close to the front door. They tried not to stare me down.

  Let's be honest. I had to look like shit. Everyone knew whose place this was. There was no disguising the emergency personnel. As much as I wanted to shout them to hell, I didn't. Instead, I stepped onto the elevator. My lids shielded the bright glare of the lights reflecting from the mirrors. The whole place was this type of silly perfection to the point you had no choice but to feel inadequate.

  The elevator stopped two floors down. I flashed up to acknowledge the new person and without thinking, started looking back to the ground. But it was her. The girl from the street. The one with the curious, pleading pupils. Unlike earlier when her brown hair had been flowing past her shoulders, she now had it swooped up into a sloppy bun.

  "Oh my gosh, can you help me?" she cried, her body positioned in the center of the elevator door. Wet streaks formed tracks along her cheeks. Her lips puckered. For the life of me, I couldn't decide if she was trying to seduce me. When her hands rushed up for her forehead and dragged all the way down to her chin, my insides caved.

  "What's wrong? Are you okay?" I shifted near. A burst of some kind of fruity scent slipped into my nostrils as she grabbed my wrist then turned to pull me from the elevator just as the doors were setting up to shut. I didn't hesitate. I allowed her to lead me from my living hell.

  "My friend is in trouble." Every few words, she'd turn to seek out my understanding of her situation. Her head would pump up and down.

  She eventually stopped outside of a closed door with gold lettering. Her hands were shaky as she tried the knob. It was locked. She hammered at the door with the palm of her hands. The sound echoed up and down the empty hallway, which was a replica of my parent's own, only without the crowd at the moment. "She needs me."

  I leaned in, placing my ear to the door. That was actually unnecessary since these places were soundproof for the most part. So, I knocked like she'd done.

  "He's not gonna open," she whined. I peered down to see her bottom lip stick out and quiver.

  "Who's he?"

  "I can't remember his name. Some guy who preys on girls."

  "I'm kinda lost." None of this made sense. She was talking in code. There was a friend and some guy. This friend of hers was being held by this guy, but beyond that I didn't know what the hell I was meant to do. "Take a step back...I'm sorry. What's your name?"

  "Chanel," eased from between pouty reddish lips which seemed battered from constant biting though they weren't chewed up. Damn, they were perfectly imperfect. I guess I must've been staring because she cleared her throat.

  "Um, yeah. Okay Chanel, I'm Rhys."

  "Rhys, I knew this was a bad idea but here I am. My friend met some dweeb online and thought it was a good idea to hook up at his place."

  "But you are here too. I kinda remember seeing you out on the street." I moved a leg away to allow my eyes to roam over her. She had to be no more than an inch over five feet, and carried a slender build. "Were you supposed to be her bodyguard?" I joked.

  "Girls look out for each other," she instantly defended, lapping her arms across her chest.

  "Were you meeting someone too?" I squinted before adding, "Double date?"

  Chanel's tiny body pushed up to mine. Her perky breasts smashed into the lower part of my chest. Two fingers reached into my face as she noted, "Don't make assumptions on things you know nothing about, Rhys." Her expression hardened when the eyes which initially seemed so soft and non-threatening now squinted at me. I swear, those delectable lips of hers were about a second away from unleashing all sorts of profanity. I could handle whatever she threw out though.

  "This is kinda ironic, huh? You've go
t this hateful, tough girl thing going on, yet you're asking me to help rescue your friend? How do I know you two aren't planning something? How do I know you're not the ones scheming?"

  "Screw you!" she belted before giving me her best open-handed slap. The sound filled the hallway, and I couldn't help but look around to make certain no one saw. Realistically, it might've been the wrong thing to say. I deserved her anger. Even though it stung like hell, her strength wasn't enough to make me budge. Furthermore, the energy behind her fight triggered something more profound than pain.

  VI.

  Chanel

  ~

  The side of Rhys' face turned red from the blow, right at the handprint where I'd connected with his tan skin. Only then did I realize he had a golden glow bordering bronze from account of the lighting. I got caught off guard by this aha moment because this guy, who meant absolutely nothing to me, had so easily brought out such a horrible reaction. His pupils reflected a satisfying glow, kind of like he wanted or welcomed the abuse.

  He didn't shy away after I got physical. Never in my life had I put my hand on someone else this way. A pulsating pain traveled the entire length of my arm. As much as I wanted to massage my wrist, I placed it on my waist and pressed it to my side. Too much had taken place today. I could feel every ounce of reality unraveling around me. Honestly, here I was, getting ready to fight a total stranger over Chantele's poor decision.

  "Look, I'm sorry." Shifting to my right, I prepared to get away from this whole damn situation. A knot grew in my chest, which simultaneously tightened with the flurry of butterflies flapping like hell in my stomach. "I don't go around the place laying hands on total strangers, or anyone else for that matter." Using the back of my wrist to smooth out the tension forming along the sides of my face, I tossed my head left to right.

  "It's okay," he replied with a wide grin which reached up the sides of his face to brighten his eyes, further wiping away any discomfort he might've been feeling over my abuse.

  "This foolishness makes me edgy. I only wish I had a better grasp on things. I'm not sure of what's going on, but it's not fair to lash out on you."

  "Maybe she's okay," he whispered, and then added, "My pain will pass," with a widening grin. I wasn't one to be hung up on color, especially since I had black and white parents. Moreover, Zachary was white, and I still clung closer to my Afro-American roots, if we were to go by the official labels. With Rhys now glowering over me like I was a thick, juicy steak, I couldn't help but wonder if he too had a thing for black girls.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  My thoughts were obviously out of place and time. "Nothing, absolutely nothing." I wasn't about to form a totally out of place discussion with a stranger, regardless of how fricken uncomfortable his lusting seemed to be. Even when I thought his lingering stares were cute.

  Inappropriate, Chanel.

  "Okay," he countered.

  I shrugged, in the type of way to usually annoy the hell out of me when anyone else did the same. "Yeah."

  I kept going, taking small steps at first. Only then did I realize that since the hallway wasn't crowded, any sound we made echoed up and down the full length. Not that I expected this uppity building to have folks hanging out like it was a club.

  We reached halfway to the next door when his hand encased my waist. A spark passed between the two of us. I jumped back and nearly fell backwards onto the opposite wall. After shifting around, my sandals got tangled on their own straps, as I was a second from falling on my face. But this newly intrusive stranger caught me. And then came crashing down along with me.

  "I'm not usually an asshole," he muttered. I detected a softening in his pitch. "This day has been so shitty." Rhys' breath danced across my eyes, nose and lips. When you think about getting caught up or hanging on someone's every word, that was me. "I'm sorry."

  "I know what you mean," I replied. Zach's frown filled my subconscious mind. He would be so pissed off to know I came with Chantele. In fact, I doubted I would even tell him about any of this. So, I forced away his distaste, whether it was the right thing to do.

  I remained on the ground, wrapped in Rhys' protective embrace for longer than necessary. Neither of us were in a hurry. Without being sure of his situation, mine seemed to give enough reason to break away.

  Yet, I didn't.

  I allowed my body to be pressed near this stranger. The way his thumb raced up and down my upper arms was highly inappropriate.

  Yet, I let him.

  Even the rapid beating of his heart, which my chest somehow mimicked, should have been enough to put an end to our moment.

  Yet, it wasn't.

  Then we heard a screech followed by the awful sound that had to come from someone getting body slammed. All that through the thick walls and door.

  Dear God, poor Chantele!

  He leapt up, reached down for me with his right hands and drew me to his side. The hold was tight. I allowed it, though I'm not sure if it was a conscious decision. I liked to believe my actions had no reason, so I didn’t feel I could've been held responsible for anything I'd done since meeting him.

  The distant scratching from the other side of the door only got worse. My insides churned because I could only imagine what my girl must've been going through. And when my eyes landed on Rhys', I knew he finally believed something might've gone wrong.

  "Stay out of the way," he mouthed, giving a little breath to the order as not to be heard by anyone but me. He brushed away a couple strands of honey colored hair that had blown into his eyes before taking two large steps away from the door. A large, platinum-faced watch held steady to the pulsating veins racing from his hands up to muscular arms.

  I had to look away. It felt weird to consider the things in another guy that shouted sex appeal, especially with Zach being the world to me. I closed my lids tightly, but then reopened them. I didn't want to be caught off guard; however, I couldn't damn well stare at this hot guy. I refocused to the other end of the hallway.

  Before I was still for two whole seconds, "Boom!" he kicked through the door in one try.

  "Shit!" a male voice shouted from inside.

  "Help!" Chantele's pleas carried from further in.

  "Chantele," I stated in normal tone, more shocked than anything. Pushing forward and pressing through the butterflies in my stomach, I dabbed the back of my right hand against the sprinkles of tears now running down my face. With my left, I held onto the door frame to steer in. I felt like someone had flipped a switch to slow time down because it all moved in slow motion for me.

  Right on the inside of the door, in what might've been called a foyer, Rhys wailed on a skinny guy. Blood flashed in every direction. Rhys' fist flew down, one after the other to connect in loud crunches. The guy's nose twisted like rubber.

  I didn't immediately see Chantele because I couldn't take my eyes off of how angry my savior had become. Now I use the term savior because that's precisely who he was, but I didn't expect a blood bath.

  The scrawny idiot eventually weaseled away by slipping underneath Rhys' leg and crawling. He reached for some sort of standing, wooden fixture which resembled a lamp. Other than that, the place had a tacky brown sofa on the far end of the living room, just next to a half-wall window. Chantele bent forward to form a large ball at the intersection of two walls. My legs reacted before anything else, with the exception of a wide open-mouthed gasp. My feet slammed onto the polished floor loud enough you might've thought I was much heavier than a hundred and thirty-five pounds.

  When I had last seen my friend, her hair had been intact. Her clothes had been spectacular. There wasn't a single bruise over any inch of her face, arms or legs. Now, she had a swollen right eye. I swear you could see the fist-print from where the bastard must've slammed into her golden skin.

  "Chanel," she balled as I reached her side.

  This time, I didn't try to wipe away my tears. I let every single one of them wash over her. There was no amount of wiping to stop the hur
t of seeing this type of crap. Seriously though, what kind of man did this to a woman?

  "Aww sweetie," I puffed while tears dripped between my lips.

  "I'm sorry, Chanel, I didn't think..."

  I waved my hand in the air to shut things down. As sorry as I was that something so heinous had happened to my friend, it was at the tip of my tongue to throw out that she hadn't thought about this. Instead of going there, I placed my lips close together and bit down because now was not the time for a lecture.

  "Bash!" a noise from behind us pulled my attention. I think the noise from Rhys' less than profession reconstructive surgery had become the norm, especially with how easily I was able to tune it out, but this was different. I turned around to see the scrawny guy's head fitted in a circular hole in the wall.

  "Dude, that's enough!" My scream was a natural reaction. I mean really, what the heck was all of this? "Put him down, Rhys. I'll call 9-1-1."

  I paused for him to react or do anything which seemed remotely like he was listening; hell, anything to show me he had some sense. Nothing. Not one damn sound resembling a spoken word could be heard.

  Breathing...yep.

  Whimpering...yep.

  Affirmations or apologies...nope.

  I exhaled, turned to study my broken friend, and then took small, yet steady steps towards this stranger hell-bent on pulverizing a guy he knew nothing about.

  Once near, I lifted my arm. Nothing much scared me at this stage of my life, but the way my fingers shivered, this whole situation registered. "Rhys, can you hear me?"

  Finally, he nodded. Now he wasn't an uber bulky guy or anything, but it was clear he might've been one to take to the gym often enough. Furthermore, Rhys appeared non-threatening. For the most part, being near, taking in the natural pheromones of a guy who'd sparked my interest from first glance set my soul at ease. Either looks were certainly deceiving, or I was a bad judge of character like Chantele.