“Yes.”
“Who was she?”
“Hitler’s filmmaker.”
“Triumph of the Will!” Ryan shouted. “Blitzkrieg! The tank! And the movie camera! Which was the greater weapon?”
Kelli stared at him, unsure if he wanted an answer.
“The movie camera! Media! Hitler’s long dead, but that fucking film is still around. Mein Kampf? The writing’s terrible, but his book is still out there, the insane rantings intact, sitting on shelves, waiting to be read. Go to Amazon and you can order a copy! Right now, some kid is sitting in a Starbucks, digesting that garbage,” Ryan looked around the room. He had their attention. “A movie, and a book, both historical documents, both powerful, and both potentially dangerous pieces of communication, ways of carrying across the ideas of a long dead madman. Six million Jews died from thoughts that quickly gained momentum in part from those two forms of media. They should be preserved, and they should be studied, and they should stand as a warning. The world might be a different place today if Adolf Hitler had not been such a master of manipulating the media.”
Ryan sat on the desk quietly for a moment. Someone stifled a cough. He stared down at the floor as though deep in thought.
“But then there are positive things about media. Not only can it be used to propagate horrible, evil ideas, it can also help make people aware of them. Picasso’s Guernica did this. News crews and filmmakers have done this with Vietnam. Think of that war and what do you see? The child burned by napalm. The man with the gun to his head. Platoon? War… Peace...” He looked up. “What about love? How many of you learned about love from a Beatles song, or a movie. Woody Allen? When Harry Met Sally?”
Jamie’s attention was torn between fantasies of the girl, and thoughts about what this guy was saying. He might be a bit heavy on the theatrics, but this professor was interesting. For him, painting had always been his first choice; now, through narrowed options, he was studying photography. There were similarities and there were differences, and in many ways, there were benefits to each. He looked over at Kelli. If he were painting her in the nude, it would take his full concentration, and hours of time. If he were taking a photo of her, it would take a few minutes, and leave plenty of time for lovemaking. Priorities. It was lot to consider.
“This will be the primary concern of the course. Hopefully, by the time we’re finished here in ten weeks, you’ll all have some new perspectives on the mediums you have chosen, and why. Ten weeks is a short period in which to develop a complete philosophy, and its an even shorter time to consider just what the hell you all want to do with your lives, what you want to say, to whom, and in what manner, but it will be worth it.”
Ryan turned to a red-haired girl in the front and again began the rundown of what she studied, how she had chosen to do so. The rest of the class continued along the lines of this discussion, and Kelli found herself getting sucked into the topic. Her professors lightly touched on these issues in her film courses, but Professor Ryan had a way of making it seem passionate and vital. She imagined he might be a bit like Dylan Thomas in the fifties. Booming, big ideas, a voice to match, and a boyish disposition to draw in the women. No wonder all those college girls were always crawling into bed with him. The angry passion about works of art was just, hot. Throw in some shaggy hair and a sly grin and you had a major aphrodisiac. Her mind was torn, bouncing back and forth between the professor in front and the guy in the hat behind her. It was like a fantasy. She gave the upper hand to the student. He’d given a strange response to the professor’s last question, grunting a short “No-,” but the attitude with which he’d spoken was virtually dripping sex appeal. Maybe that was even more appealing, a man of few words, just actions. He had a charm she couldn’t put her finger on, a seductive spark in his eyes, like he could taste her blood after biting down on her lip.
The next time she saw him, that sparkle would be gone.
CHAPTER FOUR - THE ACCIDENT
Jamie did not go home the day the bandages were removed. When he awoke, his mother walked to his bedside and told him what had happened, or what they thought had happened; the details were hazy.
After carrying his young son into the emergency room, frantically filling out paperwork, and calling Lynn as the ER attendants wheeled Jamie away, Jeff had sat down in the waiting room. He’d been unable to reach his wife, leaving a message on the answering machine with directions to come to the University hospital. Then, amidst the chaos of the hospital, he had leaned back in his chair, his hands to his head, and wordlessly slumped to the floor.
When Lynn arrived an hour later, she was met at the admissions window by a nurse with a blank expression. Yes, someone had brought in a young boy who had been in a car accident, but the boy’s condition was unknown, and the father himself had been admitted shortly afterward. She had no information as to what had happened to him, or where he had been taken. Lynn had attempted to reason with the woman, pressing her for further information, but gaining little ground.
“I told you ma’am, I don’t know where he is.”
“Well find out!” Lynnn screamed. “It shouldn’t be so difficult!”
The nurse turned around, throwing up her arms and tilting her head to a fellow attendant, who ignored the expression, and looked right at Lynn, saying, “Just a moment Mrs. Pepper, I’ll take you to him.”
Jeff had been sprawled out on the waiting room floor when they found him. His face and hands were stone cold. A thin stream of blood trickled from his ear. He was initially unresponsive, taking several minutes to regain even a listless degree of consciousness. By the time Lynn arrived he had been x-rayed and undergone a brain scan. Now he lay in a hospital bed, sedated, as the doctors filled Lynn in on what they knew, which didn’t boil down to much. His condition was unclear. He had suffered a head injury in the collision, which had smashed his head into the driver’s side window. There were no lacerations or puncture wounds on his head and face, but the scan revealed very slight internal bleeding, a thin sheet of blood had pooled on the surface of his brain, yet not enough to justify surgery. Not yet anyway. Aside from waiting for the blood to disperse, there was little else that they could do.
Lynn took the news calmly, no stranger to traumatic environments and situations, and certainly no stranger to emergency rooms in general after years of following rock stars and their exploits, but despite every effort to maintain a professional aura, this was different. She was sober. The patient was not some coked up front man who had tumbled from a hotel balcony. At that moment, the two people for whom she cared most in this world were stretched out in hospital beds. She got up and crossed the hall to the children’s ward, where Jamie had also been sedated after eye surgery. His hands were stretched out, his tiny fingers curled upwards. She walked over, kissed him on his damp forehead, then walked out into the hallway and called her brother-in-law.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jamie felt sick. He’d been sitting in the computer lab all evening, experimenting with images of the broken window. Once or twice he’d blinked and looked around, feeling the way he had the night Gabe startled him awake to say the labs were closing, as though he were continually drifting in and out of sleep. Fortunately, Gabe wasn’t working tonight to again observe his strange behavior. Jamie had made sure he ate after leaving the gym. His meal should have held him over, preventing a hunger headache, but something was not right. He went back through his memory of the day. He’d taken his meds at all the right times, yet it felt as though someone were squeezing in the sides of his head like a balloon. Jamie lifted his hands to his temples, propping his elbows up on the edge of the table. He looked down at his lap, glimmers of light sparkled along the edges of his vision. His ears were ringing. The room was twisting and bending. The next thing he knew, Kelli was whispering in his ear, pressing his face against her chest.
~
He hadn’t seen her sitting in the back corner of the room, typing up a paper. The report wasn’t due for a week, but Kelli hated
the class, and had decided to complete the assignment so she could stop obsessing over it. She was about half way through when she’d noticed him sitting down at a computer in the front of the room. Kelli pulled her chair forward, craning around the monitor to see what he was doing. She’d been hoping Professor Ryan would press him for his name earlier in class earlier that day, but surprisingly, he’d been let off the hook. Now he was sitting across the room, his head held in his hands, looking much the worse for wear. Was he having a panic attack or something? Overwhelmed by an assignment? People with their heads in their hands were not an uncommon sight on campus, but after an hour, she began to worry about him. His ever-present cap had grown dark with perspiration and sweat was dripping down the back of his neck. He slumped forward suddenly, his slack face pooling on the desktop. She hesitated, glanced around the room, then got up and slowly went over to him.
He was breathing heavily, long, deep sighs that seemed to catch in his throat, then slowly wheeze out through his mouth.
“Excuse me,” she whispered.
No response. Kelli reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Still nothing.
“Are you all right?” she said louder.
Jamie’s eyes fluttered open. She crouched down to look him in the face. He stared through her, eyelids drooping heavily.
“Are you sick? Can I help you?”
Jamie sat up slowly, his head tipping backwards. Kelli kept her hands on his shoulders. He was soaking wet. She could feel the moisture seeping through his clothing. His body was solid. The muscles in his back grew tense under her fingertips as his body swayed in the chair. Then his head fell forward. She caught him, pulling him towards her chest. Her hand shot up to the back of his head, cradling him against her. He was boiling hot.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”
Nothing.
“Are you sick? Do you have a headache?”
She felt him nod his head against her chest.
“You have a headache? A migraine?”
Slowly, his mouth began to move, barely a tremble in his lips, but he didn’t say a word. Kelli looked around the room. It was practically empty, save for a tiny Asian girl sitting at the assistance desk.
“Do you need help getting back to your dorm?”
Jamie again nodded his head. Kelli surveyed his work area. He had a backpack, a notepad, and a digital camera spread out.
“All right, let me get your stuff together and we can go.”
She helped Jamie place his head down on the desk, and quickly gathered everything together, slipping his things into the backpack. She checked the computer, then shut it down.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
She went back to her seat to gather up her own things. When she returned, Jamie was nearly incoherent. She pressed her hand against his shoulder.
“Okay, let’s try to get up.”
Jamie set his legs apart, then forced himself to stand quickly. Kelli stepped forward as he swayed unsteadily. She held their backpacks in her left hand, and reached around him with her right arm. He leaned against her. Kelli could again feel his muscular body tensing and moving against her, but it was barely capable of supporting his own weight. She prepared herself in case his legs gave out.
“All right, here we go.”
They slowly made their way out of the room, walking past the assistant at the desk, who didn’t even glance up at them. Out in the hallway they began to trudge down the long, empty corridor. He was not looking good. His face had gone completely white now.
“What’s your name?” she asked him. “We have a class together, but I don’t know your name.”
He took a gulp of air, and exhaled, “Jamie-”
“Jamie,” she repeated. “Well Jamie, where are we headed? What dorm do you live in?”
“Gibson.”
The hallway opened up into a large foyer. Kelli looked out the window, and saw snow falling outside. Damn.
“It looks terrible out there.”
No response.
“I don’t know if we’ll make it if we go now.”
Again, he said nothing. He had stopped, and was once more swaying on his feet. She looked up at his face, the eyes were closed, his mouth hung open.
“Do you need to wait?”
No response.
Then, he fell forward. She barely caught him, dropping the backpacks as she angled her body to hold him up. She led him to a row of benches in the entryway. They stopped at the end of a long bench, where she turned him around, holding him steady as he sat down and fell backwards, stretching out on his back. She leaned forward, looking into his face. He was out. She again looked around. There was no one in sight. It was almost eleven o’clock. She bent down beside him, breathing in his smell, a spicy mix of cologne and deodorant.
“I’ll be right back, Jamie.”
She walked down the hallway to the bathroom, where she pulled several paper towels from the dispenser and ran them under steaming hot water, then she ran back and placed the steaming towels on his face. He reached up and pulled them down over his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply. She went back and soaked more paper towels in hot water. When she returned, the first towels had cooled. She crouched down and replaced them, then sat still, watching him.
“Is that helping at all?”
He said nothing, just continued breathing deeply, his eyes still closed.
Time drifted.
~
Jamie was still feeling out of it. His head was throbbing. It felt like he had a fever. He was vaguely aware that Kelli was helping him, but he was too sick to enjoy her attention. The towels helped, but he still felt terrible. He couldn’t tell if the responses he was giving to her questions were even coming out, or if he was simply hearing them in his mind. She must have heard him, as she left again, and came back with more hot towels.
They were in the foyer of the photo building for more than an hour. Finally, Jamie seemed to be recovering, and Kelli brought him some snack mix from one of the vending machines.
“Try eating some of this,” she said. holding the bag out to him. “The salt always helps me when I have headaches.”
He sat up, taking a handful of the mix in his shaky hands. He brought it to his mouth and chewed slowly. The skin around his eyes hung heavy with exhaustion, but a sparkle had at last returned to the dark green irises.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“No problem.”
They sat wordlessly for several more minutes. Finally, Kelli stood and walked over to the window. She wiped fog from the glass and peered out into the courtyard, shielding the glare from the glass as she stared at the pools of light under the walkway lamps. The snow had slowed, but only slightly. Who knew if conditions would be getting any better, or any worse.
“Think you can make it back to the residential side?” Kelli asked as she turned to Jamie.
His eyes opened and closed slowly, then he leaned forward and got to his feet. Kelli went to him, grabbing hold of his elbow. She looked at his eyes, but they were staring at the ground. He glanced over at her and nodded his head.
“Let’s give it a shot then,” she replied.
The snow was still falling as they left the building and headed down the quarter mile towards to the dorms. The first breath of cold air sent a shiver of relief through Jamie’s head, but the second seemed to hit his system the wrong way, and it wasn’t long before he was feeling sick again. The heat and pain in his head were doubling by the minute, and with each new wave, his movements grew more and more labored. Each step on the frozen ground seemed to jar his brain, bringing the headache back in force. Kelli carried his backpack for him. Every so often he’d try to look up at her, or think of something to say, but mostly he watched his feet, trying to ignore the pain, hoping he could make it back to the dorm without throwing up.
~
Eventually, they reached Gibson Hall, where Jamie managed to fish the keys from his pocket as h
e leaned against the side of the building. They opened the door and started up the dark, narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing as they ascended. Kelli pushed over a heavy metal door on the third floor, and they were quickly engulfed in the smell of microwave popcorn and the low murmurs of conversation coming from open doorways. Kelli recognized the dorm; Jamie lived on the same floor as Will. That would explain his appearance at Gracie’s on Friday. She looked around warily, hoping she wouldn’t bump into her friend. Jamie had started getting worse about halfway back from the academic side. He wore that signature hat of his, but the cold air still must have frozen him to the bone as it chilled the sweat that was streaming down his face. Now, as he staggered down the hall beside her, she heard his dry, heavy breathing again - holding the air in for a brief moment, before exhaling slowly. He dug through his pockets and pulled out his keys. Kelli waited as he opened the door, switched on the light, and staggered inside. She followed him inside looking around the room curiously. It was dark. He had no posters on the wall. Very few books. No computer or TV. A row of prescription containers was lined up neatly on top of his dresser. She counted a half dozen of them.
Jamie pulled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He went straight to the dresser, twisted the caps off several of the canisters, and shook out a handful of pills.
On/Off - A Jekyll and Hyde Story Page 9