Black Rainbow

by Scott Savino

  Then I remembered my book bag on the floor. I quietly pulled it up, careful not to let the fabric scrape too loudly, and started delicately rifling through it. What I needed had to be in there somewhere. I’d bought it specifically for this trip.

  Aha!

  My hand emerged with a solid mass of metal about the size and shape of a hockey puck. The grinder wouldn’t be perfect, since it was made for grinding flowers and stems into a smoke-able mix, not smashing frozen safety glass, but it would do.

  I didn’t relish the cacophony it would create, but if I could just break the window I might be able to burrow my way out through the snow. I figured it couldn’t be that thick if I could hear traffic through it.

  Winding back my arm as far as I could, I slammed the grinder into the glass.

  The sound was blinding. It assaulted my ears as much as I had assaulted the window. It reverberated throughout my car, and I wanted to cover my ears and hide, but if I stopped now I might not get the chance to start again.

  I pounded at the glass. My hand ached from the impact and I swore my ears would bleed from the sound, but I pushed through the pain and the terrible noise until there, just in the lower right corner, the smallest crack appeared. I concentrated on that crack for dear life until eventually the window shattered. Safety glass consumed my entire face and neck. I didn’t care though; freedom was almost tangible.

  In that moment I decided that once I’d made it out I was moving somewhere without snow.

  Thoughts of tropical winters and warm sunsets fueled me as unwanted black lines writhed at the periphery of my vision. Everything felt like it was tilted sideways, and though I knew it had to be from lack of oxygen, I swore the car was getting smaller with every increasingly shallow breath I took.

  I jammed my fist into the snow outside my window to scoop it out of the way and screamed. Searing pain exploded in my hand.

  There was no snow outside my car. Only ice.

  Tears of hopelessness cascaded down my face as my hands flew randomly around the floorboards of the car, further injuring my already battered fingers, not that I could feel them anymore. There had to be something else I could use.

  That’s when I found them. The socks I’d discarded earlier when my feet were on fire. They were covered in bits of glass or ice, but I didn’t care. At that point it didn’t really make much difference. Both were freezing cold and razor sharp.

  For protection, I wrapped my hands in my socks and resumed my attack on the ice with my grinder. Maybe the ice was thin. Maybe all I had to do was break away the first layer and it would be snow the rest of the way out.

  I hoped, but it wasn’t that easy.

  I kept going anyway. I had to keep going. I had to get out.

  My arms were numb, my muscles weighed down from exertion. My head was fuzzy and a suffocating heat consumed my body with every labored breath.

  Then I felt a hint of fresh air hit my face and almost wept with joy. The ice was stained crimson by then and I couldn’t bear to think of the state of my hands.

  I knew peeling back the socks to peek would only make me panic, which might use up the rest of my crucial oxygen, so I left them where they were. I wasn’t done digging.

  I blindly hacked at the ice, my muscles renewed with hopeful vigor, until something hit the floor by my feet. My heart stopped as I leaned down to retrieve what had fallen. My biggest fear was that the grinder had broken and I’d been left with nothing to dig my way out.

  After retrieving it, though, I knew my attempts at escape were over. Cold air kissed my cheek as darkness overwhelmed me. With freedom so close, and yet so far, I slipped into the void.

  oOo

  A loud, persistent beeping pulled me back to consciousness. When my eyes fluttered open again, my mind was still hazy and exhausted. My body didn’t feel right, and the lights were killing me. As I got my bearings, I realized I wasn’t in my car anymore. It looked like I was in the hospital and the room was blindingly bright. My heart dropped a little when I saw I was alone, though I don’t know why I should have expected anything different. Still, despite being alone and hurt, I was just happy to be out of that damned car.

  And my throat was still so dry.

  I looked for the call button on the rail of my bed and attempted to press it, only to see both of my hands heavily bandaged. A sickening dread invaded my mind as the memories trickled back. I rammed the button with my elbow and a young nurse came rushing in.

  She told me to hold on for a moment and she’d grab the doctor to speak with me. Her voice was grating, but I nodded.

  An older doctor came in wearing a long white coat and a threadbare smile. He pulled up the stool next to my bed and sat down to explain.

  He said a good Samaritan had seen my antenna poking up through the snow and called the police. They dug me out and found me unconscious, clutching a frozen finger in my hand.

  When they found their charger fit my phone, they plugged it in and called the top number in my contacts: my brother Jason. He stuck around the first few days of my coma, but when the hospital said I’d probably need to be there for a while, he headed home. He couldn’t afford the time off. The doctor said he drove my car back. It had taken quite the beating, but was still in good condition.

  The Samaritan stopped by every couple of days to check on me. I couldn’t wait to thank them. That simple act of kindness had saved my life. The doctor said if I’d been in there even half an hour longer, I wouldn’t have made it.

  I tried leaving after a few weeks in the hospital—I still have things I need to do—but they keep denying my discharge. Honestly, I’m less bothered by it each time.

  I suppose my new home is the Chestnut Ridge mental facility. They say I have to stay. I may even begin to like it here. They keep the lights turned down and gave me a special set of earphones that block out sounds, but everything still seems so loud.

  My doctor told me to write all this down as best as I can with the remaining fingers I have. I lost three altogether, along with half my left foot.

  My body still feels cold all the time.

  I go into an inconsolable panic during snow storms, to the point where I need to be sedated.

  I haven’t spoken a word since I woke up here. I can’t handle the volume of my own voice.

  I honestly wonder if I’m still able to speak at all, though I don’t try. Even if could, I’d never let them know why I was all the way out at Copper Mountain in the first place. Not that they’re asking.

  No one has mentioned anything, or even tried to question me about the body in the trunk.

  I’d like to keep it that way.

  Darren really was a dud, but I wasn’t going to let him ruin my vacation.

  Our Love Burns

  SHANNON MASSEY

  WHEN WE MET FOR THE first time, I realized I needed you like oxygen. The way your short red dress hugged your supple curves. The way your raven hair cascaded carelessly down your back. The way you tripped when your heel caught in a crack. I caught your arm and kept you on your feet. The second we touched, a spark ignited in my heart and I loved you deeply and forever.

  Some of your hair caught in my wristwatch. It didn’t seem to hurt, but it was a piece of you I could keep.

  You smiled, “Thanks for the save.”

  “I’ll save you every day,” I responded, stumbling over the words.

  Your friends were quick to flank you and drag you away. You glanced over your shoulder. Our eyes met. In that moment, I knew you felt the same magnetic charge I did. I watched you disappear into the club. I’d never gone into a place like that before, or fallen in love before, or drank before.

  You made me whole that night.

  We enjoyed our first drink together in the club. Sweat trickled down your collarbone, across your curves. I forced my eyes to stay up and not watch the beads.

  You smiled when you took the drink. “Nothing extra in it, right?”

  I didn’t understand. “Just what they put in your
last one. I got one to try, too. What’s your name? We keep running into each other. It’s fate.”

  You ran a hand through your hair. Your fingers danced like they were caught. “Fate, sure. I’m Kate, uh Spade?”

  I mimicked the motion. My hair’s not as thick as yours, it didn’t move like ocean waves, more like a foot through grass. “Nice to meet you, Kate. Want to dance?”

  Before you could answer, your friend came up. She apologized for taking you away. I could hardly hear over the violent bass in the music. I watched you nod, your eyes cast back and found mine.

  That meant you didn’t want to go.

  I got us more drinks. Your friend wouldn’t let me dance too close. She was jealous of the attention I gave you. It’s understandable, but I couldn’t date two women at the same time. That would be wrong. Cheating.

  We danced the rest of the night away. I wanted to kiss you, but I made myself wait. It was nice of you to let me go through your purse while you were busy. I couldn’t protect you without access. Your phone was easy to program.

  Your lipstick and a small bottle of body spray went into my pocket. I took your glass home, too.

  My first date.

  Our first date.

  When I got home, I went into the bedroom, to our corner. I took your hair from under my watch; I’d kept it wrapped there all night. I set the glass down. I put your lipstick on so our lips touched. I sprayed the pillow so I could bathe in your scent. Like Adam and the rib, I built you from pieces and breathed life into you. I turned to you, the you I created. The lipstick went where your lips should be, the body mist surrounded our space. My hands grazed my body, touching like you’d touch. I turned on my phone to watch you, a little blue dot. You weren’t moving. Must have been settled at home.

  I laid down and you fell asleep in my arms.

  I didn’t want to seem desperate, but I so wanted to know you. I needed to. It thrilled me when I ran into you at the coffee shop. I bought you coffee and a scone. We talked about the weather and your Bikram class. I asked you to the movies. You had to travel for work, left later that day for a week.

  You gave me your email address—katesotherbox@hotmail.com—so I could share the playlist I made for you.

  You gave me a scarf. Well, you left it dangling from your bag, tempted me to take it. I hugged you: a few more strands of hair.

  A perfect second date.

  The scarf is pink, lavender, and blue. It almost looks like a flag. I draped it around the rest of the you I’d created in our bedroom. I wrapped the strands of hair with the others. They began to frame your high cheekbones.

  The week you were gone was the longest week of my life. I spent time with you everyday on the phone. I watched your little blue dot as it moved around Madrid.

  You were nice to let me into your apartment while you were gone. It’s funny how many pictures there were of you kissing your friend from the club. You must be really good friends.

  It was nice being in your space. Perhaps someday our space?

  A simple wooden box with a beautiful hand-painted design sat on your dresser. Inside the box were twenty small teeth. I put nineteen in my pocket and one in my mouth. It settled under my tongue. I held it there while I chose items for the you I’d created at home. A sweater from the hamper. Hair from the drain and the brush you left behind. Tampons from the trash. I cut myself and your blood became my blood. You left your robe for me. You’ll never know how much that meant. Wrapped in your robe, laying on your bed, it was almost like you were really there holding me.

  I swallowed your tooth.

  Now you’re inside me.

  When I returned home, I dressed you in your sweater and neatly arranged the teeth where your mouth would be. But nineteen is a bad number. I put another tooth in my mouth. My tongue caressed it as it gently clicked against my teeth before going down. Our bond only grew stronger.

  I didn’t move to my bed after that. I stayed with you and tried to breathe life into you. The strands of hair fluttered. I cut myself and bled onto you.

  It wasn’t quite enough.

  I slept at the airport because I didn’t have your flight information. You were so excited to see me you forgot who I was. It all came flooding back once I reminded you: I saved you. We’d been dating for weeks.

  We walked together. You were shy and didn’t want to accept a ride. Said you had someone else coming. We walked some more. You played with your hair. I tucked a strand behind your ear and kissed your cheek. You made a joke about finding security. I laughed. Then your brother was there. You were so excited to see him, you cried.

  Why didn’t you cry when you saw me?

  Maybe you were trying to hold it in? Didn’t want to seem too clingy.

  You introduced us. Your brother had a firm handshake. That’s always a good sign.

  He pulled me close, keeping a firm hold on my hand. “Listen buddy, I will kick your ass if you come near her again. Fuck off, yeah?”

  He let go and pushed me away, then put an arm around you and walked away. Brothers say the funniest things. It’s nice that we’re already such good friends. “Buddy” was his nickname for me.

  You dropped your wallet. It was obviously an invitation over. I wasn’t sure I was ready to take our relationship to the intimate level, to touch for real. That seemed like a big step. I watched you and your brother walk away.

  The next three nights I slept with your wallet and practiced kissing your ID on the pillow. I wanted our first real kiss to be right.

  I was still unsure if I was ready to take the next step with you, but I wanted to return your wallet. I took a deep breath and let it out as I slowly climbed the steps toward your apartment. I watched my dot and your dot get closer to each other on the phone. When you opened the door you made another joke about me staying away from you. I laughed. You’re so funny. I never knew I liked funny girls.

  I handed you flowers and candy from the store around the corner and held your wallet up.

  “Not the most subtle invitation,” I whispered. “I’m not sure if I’m ready, but thank you for the sign.” I walked around you and into your apartment, as familiar to me as my own.

  “Dude, no, you need to get out, now!”

  I laughed and pointed to the TV. It was on the news. “Look how well we know each other. You’re watching my favorite show.”

  You finally let tears of joy fall. Your body shook with happiness.

  I wrapped my arms around you and that was our first real kiss.

  The words fell from you, almost like they were being shaken out by the tears and happiness. “Please let me go.” You moved out of my arms, your hands went through your hair. “Uh, work. Please, I need to get to work.”

  I put a comforting arm around your shoulders and kissed you again. “Of course, darling. I can drive you.”

  You shook your head and slipped into my favorite green sandals. “Not allowed to have guests. Need to go.”

  I nodded. “At least let me walk you downstairs. Need to keep you safe. This isn’t the best area. I’ll have to help you move in. My place is much more comfortable.”

  You choked on the tears of joy as we walked. Perhaps they were more upset tears then, since you didn’t get to spend as much time with me? Your hands shook as you unlocked your bike and climbed on. I stole one more quick kiss before you furiously pedaled away. You were so sad our evening had been interrupted, you cried. I wanted to take your tears from you. We’d have plenty of time together.