by Rae Agatha
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if the day is so long – how long do you think a night might be?”
Everybody stopped. Dan and Anna looked at Rick. They hadn’t thought of it in that way.
“We have no idea where we are. There are woods all around the place. I mean – who knows what walks this land once it’s dark?”
“What, vampires, werewolves?” Dan laughed nervously.
“Bears are totally enough for me,” Rick replied. Dan became immediately serious. “If the sun does start setting, I think we’ll need to find ourselves a hiding place for the night. I cannot imagine walking outside around this area once it’s dark.”
Rick
On March 19th, 2001, Rick’s cell phone kept on ringing. He ignored it at first, but now it was getting too annoying to pretend not to hear it. Rick looked above the computer screen in the direction the sound was coming from. It occurred to him it was a regular ringtone, not customized to anyone on his contact list. Weird. He looked at a clock hanging on the wall behind him. 12:30 a.m. It was that late already? And where was Monica? She left before 9:00 p.m.
Rick, still focused on his work, automatically saved the file, a yet unfinished chapter of his latest novel, and started looking for his phone, now slightly alerted. The sound was coming from under the pile of papers on the other side of his desk. He could literally hear Monica tsk-tsk-king at him for having a mess in his stuff again. Rick lifted some files and books and there it was, his phone, blinking and vibrating. He picked it up at the last moment, just before a voice mail would turn on.
“Hello?” He got up to straighten his legs; it occurred to him he’d been sitting by the computer for almost five hours nonstop.
“Good evening, is this Richard Lawrence?”
“Y – yes,” he looked at the clock again. 12:32 a.m. Really late for a phone call. “My name is Dylan Anderson, I’m calling from Saint Luke’s Hospital.”
“What? Who are you, again?” Rick frowned. His mind was still partially wrapped up in the chapter he was writing; he hated being interrupted while working. He took a few steps, bend his back and had the phone pushed to his ear by the shoulder while checking out the fridge’s content.
“Dylan Anderson, MD. I’m calling from Saint Luke’s Hospital. Your wife was admitted here about an hour ago.”
“My – my wife?” Rick straightened up, he was immediately focused. “What do you mean, what happened?”
“I think you should come here, Mr. Lawrence. Your wife has been assaulted.”
Rick rubbed his face. What was the doctor saying?
“What do you mean assaulted? What - what happened to her?”
“I need to ask you to come to the hospital, Mr. Lawrence.”
“Is she – is she all right?” Rick asked and felt the blood pulsing in his head.
“She’s – fine. She’s alive. When can you come here? She’s been asking about you.”
“I’m on my way,” Rick said and hung up. As he was running down the stairs seconds later, clumsily putting his jacket on, he was trying to put his thoughts in order. Monica was fine. She was alive. Okay.
Oh my God.
It was the middle of March, one of those first nights of the year that was still quite cold, but already smelled like spring. Rick walked out of the building and waved his hand for a taxi; a yellow car appeared almost immediately. He sat in the back and, minutes after the phone call, he was on his way to the hospital. His heart was beating like crazy and the thoughts in his head were running wild. How was she? What happened? What would they do now?
I
It was New Year’s Eve 1991 and it had been snowing nonstop for almost three days. Rick was on his way to his friend’s party and while he was walking through one snowbank after another, he kept on asking himself if that was all worth it.
It was cold as hell, he had a warm cap on his head and a scarf tied around his neck and face so tight only his eyes were exposed. He wasn’t sure he would come until almost the very last minute. Rick had been fighting a really nasty cold for almost two weeks and he partly blamed the central heating malfunction in the apartment he was renting, and partly a pretty dumb idea he had a few days earlier of leaving the gym almost directly after taking a shower with his hair wet and in an unzipped jacket. Only three days ago he had a pretty nasty fever and a doctor in the ER advised him to drink a lot of fluids, stay at home and keep himself warm. The problem was that Rick, as most of the students, wasn’t exactly living in the best conditions possible and so, having a broken radiator most of the winter, being at home and staying warm did not really go together in his case. Not often, at least.
When Marty called him the other day with a New Year’s Eve party invitation, Rick said at first, coughing, that he was not going anywhere. Then his radiator stopped working again, so he called Marty back and asked what time the party was to begin. Even with an aching head and runny nose it was still a chance to spend some time in better conditions than in his hole. Besides, Marty told him he managed to renew acquaintance with some of their high school friends and most of them confirmed coming to his place for the party (yes, Marty was having a party). Since Rick hadn’t seen most of the people he hung out with during those dumb, teenage days, he thought it was one more good reason to come after all. He was curious how people were, not to mention that he was hoping one particular person would be there, too.
So, there he was, walking through impressive piles of snow, like a stork through marsh, having his vision blurred by the falling snow, covered and buttoned up so tight that he thought his mom would have finally been proud of him for accepting her vision of “dressing oneself warm” (the impulse of moaning regularly about his knee-ripped jeans was practically beyond her control, Rick wasn’t even eye-rolling about it anymore). When he got to Marty’s place he looked like an animated snowman. He pushed the buzzer button and was immediately let in. Rick got on a staircase, took off his cap and scarf and shook some of the snow off his shoulders and torso. He combed his hair with his fingers, cleared his nose, coughed a few times, and knocked on the door. Once Marty opened it, Marky Mark’s “Good Vibrations” flooded the staircase.
“Yo! It’s about that time, to bring forth the rhythm and the rhyme!” he rapped with Marky.
“Guess I’ve found the Funky Bunch, huh?” Rick smiled and walked inside.
“Yeah, not to mention Marty Mark, ha, ha! Rick! Hi, man, so glad you made it, come on in!” Marty shouted. There were about twenty people inside, Rick was apparently, one of the last guests to come.
“Take off your coat and come on, there are a lot of people you’ll be glad to see,” said Marty. Rick did as he was told and his friend put his coat on the bed in the bedroom.
“Rick! So good to see you!” Alice exclaimed. Alice was Marty’s girlfriend since three years. She came to Rick, hugged him, he reciprocated the gesture. At that moment, seeing the commotion in the apartment, with all the people in there walking around and talking and the music playing, he thought he made a good decision he came after all. Alice invited him to walk into the kitchen with her.
“What are you drinking, Rick? We’ve got everything you may want; beer, wine, bourbon, Scotch,” she enlisted.
“Well, I’m afraid I need to ask you for some tea tonight,” Rick said a bit embarrassed.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Alice said. “You’re still having that cold?”
“Yeah, bummer.”
“Tea? You’re serious?” Marty laughed.
“Yeah, I mean I only made it here because I’ve taken so much aspirin I probably won’t know what my name is by the time I get back home. I can’t even imagine the nightmare I am about to face – being the only sober person at the party.”
“Especially with such chillers we’re having here tonight, am I right?!” Marty shouted toward the living room and people started cheering. “Rick, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh, I do know, trust me.”
“All right, I’ll make you
some black tea, will that be fine?” Alice asked.
“Absolutely, thank you,” Rick smiled back and, suddenly felt a gigantic slap on his shoulder blade. He hissed quietly and turned around. There was Nick, one of his closer friends from the teenage days. The 1991/1992 night really did turn out to be a mini reunion, with many people that Rick and Marty used to hang out with before going to college.
“What’s up, Rich? Haven’t seen you in a while!” Nick said and shook hands with Lawrence.
“Likewise,” he answered while rubbing the burning spot on his back.
“How are you doing, man?” Nick asked leaning against the kitchen wall.
“Good, I’m okay,” Rick said and Alice brought him a mug with hot tea.
“Yeah, I can tell, you go to bed before 10 p.m., too?” Nick pointed at the mug and laughed.
“Yes, and I brush my teeth after each meal,” Rick laughed. “Nah, I’m just sick, got some flu-ish shit a few days ago,” he said blowing into the mug and cautiously taking a sip.
“So, how’s life, anyway?”
“You know how it is. I’m graduating this semester—”
“Yeah? In what major?”
“Creative writing.”
“Yeah, you’ve always liked that. Creating stories and stuff.”
“True. Especially the stuff part, that has always been my favorite,” Rick laughed. “I’m actually writing my degree story now. If it’s good enough, I might have it published. Still looking for an agent, though. How have you been?”
“Well, can’t complain. I work in one of the advertising agencies in downtown.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it’s all right,” Nick took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and reached it toward Rick. “You want one?”
“No, thanks man, I quit, like, almost two years ago.”
“Really? Why?” Nick asked putting the cigarette in his mouth.
“My ex told me once that she felt like licking an ashtray when she was kissing me.”
“Ouch, man, that’s nasty.”
“Yeah, she’s my ex for a reason, right?” Rick laughed. “But it worked, I quit. Makes me feel better,” he said and started coughing.
“No, totally, I can see that,” Nick smiled and inhaled.
“So, how’s the job in the ad agency?”
“It’s all right. I really like it,” Nick said while flicking the cigarette and licking his lips. “It’s creative, you know? In a different way than the stuff that you’re doin’, but it’s fun. Oh, and, you’ll never know who works there with me –“
“Who?”
One of the guests came to the kitchen to get a beer.
“Hi, I’m Mick. Marty and I work together.”
“Nick.”
“Rick,” they replied and shook hands with him. When Mick opened the fridge to get himself a beer, Nick looked at Rick amused. Mick took two bottles of Bud and went back to the living room.
“Shit man, Nick, Rick, Mick. Thank God not Dick,” Nick laughed and Rick joined him.
“So, who are you working with?” Rick asked.
“Rick, Nick, come on!” Marty came. “What are you doing here in the kitchen, this place is only to refill your cups, or add some more ice to your drinks, come on, the real party’s in the living room!”
“We’re good, right Nick?” Rick replied.
“Nah, sorry, Rich, I’m going to the living room, I mean is there a party over here, or what?!” Nick said, yelling to the people. Everybody was dancing now, just as C+C Music Factory ordered them to.
“Don’t call him Rich, he hates that!” Rick heard a woman’s voice coming from the hallway. Intrigued, he looked in its direction and saw Monica Parkson. He couldn’t believe it.
“Hi, Rick,” she smiled and walked to the kitchen.
“Hi, oh my God, I haven’t seen you for years!” He said and put the mug away. She came closer to him and they both hugged.
“I know, right? How long has it been? Seven years at least!”
“Exactly seven years. How’ve you been?”
Monica Parkson was one of the shiniest elements among his high school memories. She was the kind of a girl every guy wanted to be with; funny, intelligent, easy-going. They used to spend a lot of time together, and even though they had never been a couple, they did kiss a few times - to gain experience once a serious relationship would appear at the horizon. There had always been good energy between them, they liked the same bands, the same movies and they would often study together. They both trusted each other and were sharing their secrets, thoughts, fears, and observations. Because they were both single when they were seniors, they even went together to a prom, which was a perfect combination for making the whole idea bearable for both of them, major party enthusiasts as they were. Monica left New York City after graduation when she went to Chicago to study marketing and they eventually lost contact.
“I’ve been great, really good. How about you, Rick?”
“Good,” he said and, to tell the truth, now he really meant it.
“I’m really glad you’re here. I was hoping to see you at Marty’s,” Monica said.
“You were?” He said and smiled broadly. “Well then, even-Steven. I was hoping to see you here, too.”
“And why is that?” she asked and he could have sworn she was flirting with him.
Rick did not reply, only took his mug, came closer to her, embraced Monica with one arm and said:
“How about catching up a bit?”
“Sure, but let’s move a little, okay? It’s New Year’s Eve, after all,” she replied.
“Okay.”
They went to the living room where everybody was dancing to Simply Red’s “Something Got Me Started”. There were twenty-four people at the party. At first, Rick felt a bit like a fish out of water as he wasn’t very elegantly dressed wearing his royal blue henley, a red flannel shirt and jeans when everyone around him looked mighty fine in their jackets, dresses and jewelry, however, nobody seemed to care about any dress code etiquette.
Everybody was laughing, the food was delicious, the music was pounding and people were having fun to New Kids on The Block’s “Step by Step”, Madonna’s “Vogue”, Billy Idol’s “Cradle of Love” and Roxette’s “Joyride” which inspired almost everyone to whistle along with the Swedish duo. Rick was more into a different kind of music, his taste was fixed somewhere around Metallica, Nirvana and Guns ’n’ Roses, but for that night, the repertoire was perfect making the greenish equalizer stripes on the music player jump up and down, fold and unfold. Rick saw more familiar faces from his high school. They exchanged their life stories, recalled many high school memories, talked about teachers and one really nasty janitor, Mr. Binx, who was a constant victim of their pranks.
From time to time Rick was searching for Monica in the crowd. She hadn’t changed much, meaning she still looked fantastic. The difference was she was now a woman and not a teenage girl with whom he would go for bicycle trips outside the city during summer. A host of thick black hair, green eyes, full, beautiful lips. Although, Rick had to admit, he had never thought of her lips in such a way before, but yes, they were lovely. Kissable.
He noticed she would look at him from time to time as well. The moment their eyes would meet she would look straight at him. It was electrifying. Monica wasn’t shy, she wasn’t pretending she felt embarrassed by his interest in her. She was fully aware of that and she was daring him to come to her. He knew that those few last hours of 1991 were in fact the beginning of something wonderful.
Prince’s “Cream” started flowing from the speakers. It was a complete change of mood and suddenly there were couples all around, seductively dancing close to each other while single people went out of the room to catch some breath and talk. Some of the guests went out on the balcony to smoke. Rick was wondering which group to follow and felt a grip on his elbow.
“Gotch’ya!” Monica laughed.
He smiled and turned around to her
.
“I kind of have a feeling your tea’s gotten cold,” she said.
“Nah, it hasn’t. It’s just that it’s no longer in the mug,” he replied.
“How about making you a new one in the kitchen, what do you think?” She proposed pointing at his mug.
“Great idea,” he replied and they both went there.
Rick sat by the table and watched Monica walking around the kitchen looking for teabags. It seemed truly surreal to see her again, but it surely felt wonderful. Finally, she found the jar with tea, turned the kettle on, got herself a Heineken from the fridge and sat next to him.
“Tell me all about you, I am curious about everything, ” she said.
“Well… I’m graduating this semester. Creative writing. I am working on my diploma story now.”