Conflict Within
Alex Dolansky-Overland
The crowd was screaming for blood, and it was being delivered in swift slender rivers from the two fighting men. One man was armed with a trident, net, and a small dagger; he was made to represent a fisherman. This man, the retiarius, had little protection which was in the form of metal armour on his left arm, called a greave. When a retiarius uses their left arm to lunge with their trident, the greave acts as a shield to his exposed limb.
The retiarius was fighting viciously against his opponent, the hoplomachus, a mockery of the Greek hoplite foot soldier. The hoplomachus was more heavily armed than his opponent, with a small, round shield in his left hand, and a spear in the other. The size of his shield was made up for with long, metal leg greaves. The head underneath the helmet was evidently large and brutish, one would assume, judging by the helmet’s size. The mostly-bare body was equal in proportion to the head, resulting in an enormous specimen of muscle and bulk.
Underneath the helmet, the face of the hoplomachus was contorted in an animal-like grimace. In fact, he was grinning. It had been a while since the crowd had let him kill someone, and he had successfully whipped them into a frenzy. Though it wasn’t easy for him to see, the fear in the eyes of his opponent was constantly in his field of vision. The hoplomachus raised his shield in time to block the lunge of the trident, and forced the retiarius back. The crowd was getting impatient. But it wouldn’t be long.
The retiarius, desperate, tossed the net over the body of his massive opponent. The hoplomachus moved to bat it aside with his spear and the retiarius, sensing the opening, tried to skewer his opponent with his trident. The hoplomachus slammed his shield into the trident, knocking it down, and in turn lunged at the retiarius with his spear.
The retiarius was lucky: the spear was caught in the net and, combined with the power of the man behind it, snapped in half. The hoplomachus snarled and dropped the spear, which fell in two pieces onto the ground. The larger man was no longer smiling; he took out his secondary weapon: a gladius, a short sword used because it was so good at ‘parting the throat’.
The crowd screamed in hunger and anticipation, every member standing and waving their fists except for those of higher class who waited more patiently, some with nervous-casted faces and others with faces moulded by greed.
The retiarius shakily took out his last weapon: his knife. He hesitated, not liking his odds of beating a sword with a knife. He angled himself, trying to determine his next move. The retiarii were all about a delicate balance of strength and vulnerability, and one wrong move, or lack thereof, would prove to be fatal. If he could entangle the hoplomachus, he could sneak around him and --
The massive hoplomachus charged, smashing his shield into the body of the retiarius, throwing him off his feet and sending him to the ground, and knocking the knife out of his hand. The retiarius raised the index finger on his left hand, signaling that he wished for mercy. The hoplomachus, sensing victory, tossed his shield, gladius, and helmet aside, and picked up the trident left on the ground while he waited for the crowd to decide the fate of the fallen man before him. Then he looked up towards the crowd and waved his free hand at the retiarius, as if displaying a proud specimen at a zoo. Encouraging their reaction.
“Death! Death! Death!” the crowd chanted in one voice, shaking their fists with their thumbs sticking out. An important and wealthy-looking man lounging in a private box nodded at the victor. The hoplomachus grinned and walked over to his cowering opponent.
Blood and sweat dripped down from his forehead, but the behemoth didn't notice. The hoplomachus put his foot on the chest of the defeated retiarius in triumph and raised the trident above his head in victory. Then he switched the grip of the trident so he was holding it with both hands.
“Death! Death! Death!” All the three tips of the trident were pointing at the throat of the retiarius. The gaze of the victorious hoplomachus was fixed on the whites of the eyes of the man underneath his foot. Years training and preparation for this moment meant that the retiarius hid his fear well, at least from everybody except the bulk above, so tall it appeared that his head was in the sky. His last thought was that the hoplomachus resembled Mars, the god of war, descended from the heavens
“DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!”
Their eyes locked, and the hoplomachus grinned broadly, enjoying and relishing the moment. He raised the trident, preparing for the death stroke. The crowd roared in the ears of retiarius.
The trident came down.
Alex Dolansky-Overland
The crowd was screaming for blood, and it was being delivered in swift slender rivers from the two fighting men. One man was armed with a trident, net, and a small dagger; he was made to represent a fisherman. This man, the retiarius, had little protection which was in the form of metal armour on his left arm, called a greave. When a retiarius uses their left arm to lunge with their trident, the greave acts as a shield to his exposed limb.
The retiarius was fighting viciously against his opponent, the hoplomachus, a mockery of the Greek hoplite foot soldier. The hoplomachus was more heavily armed than his opponent, with a small, round shield in his left hand, and a spear in the other. The size of his shield was made up for with long, metal leg greaves. The head underneath the helmet was evidently large and brutish, one would assume, judging by the helmet’s size. The mostly-bare body was equal in proportion to the head, resulting in an enormous specimen of muscle and bulk.
Underneath the helmet, the face of the hoplomachus was contorted in an animal-like grimace. In fact, he was grinning. It had been a while since the crowd had let him kill someone, and he had successfully whipped them into a frenzy. Though it wasn’t easy for him to see, the fear in the eyes of his opponent was constantly in his field of vision. The hoplomachus raised his shield in time to block the lunge of the trident, and forced the retiarius back. The crowd was getting impatient. But it wouldn’t be long.
The retiarius, desperate, tossed the net over the body of his massive opponent. The hoplomachus moved to bat it aside with his spear and the retiarius, sensing the opening, tried to skewer his opponent with his trident. The hoplomachus slammed his shield into the trident, knocking it down, and in turn lunged at the retiarius with his spear.
The retiarius was lucky: the spear was caught in the net and, combined with the power of the man behind it, snapped in half. The hoplomachus snarled and dropped the spear, which fell in two pieces onto the ground. The larger man was no longer smiling; he took out his secondary weapon: a gladius, a short sword used because it was so good at ‘parting the throat’.
The crowd screamed in hunger and anticipation, every member standing and waving their fists except for those of higher class who waited more patiently, some with nervous-casted faces and others with faces moulded by greed.
The retiarius shakily took out his last weapon: his knife. He hesitated, not liking his odds of beating a sword with a knife. He angled himself, trying to determine his next move. The retiarii were all about a delicate balance of strength and vulnerability, and one wrong move, or lack thereof, would prove to be fatal. If he could entangle the hoplomachus, he could sneak around him and --
The massive hoplomachus charged, smashing his shield into the body of the retiarius, throwing him off his feet and sending him to the ground, and knocking the knife out of his hand. The retiarius raised the index finger on his left hand, signaling that he wished for mercy. The hoplomachus, sensing victory, tossed his shield, gladius, and helmet aside, and picked up the trident left on the ground while he waited for the crowd to decide the fate of the fallen man before him. Then he looked up towards the crowd and waved his free hand at the retiarius, as if displaying a proud specimen at a zoo. Encouraging their reaction.
“Death! Death! Death!” the crowd chanted in one voice, shaking their fists with their thumbs sticking out. An important and wealthy-looking man lounging in a private box nodded at the victor. The hoplomachus grinned and walked over to his cowering opponent.
Blood and sweat dripped down from his forehead, but the behemoth didn't notice. The hoplomachus put his foot on the chest of the defeated retiarius in triumph and raised the trident above his head in victory. Then he switched the grip of the trident so he was holding it with both hands.
“Death! Death! Death!” All the three tips of the trident were pointing at the throat of the retiarius. The gaze of the victorious hoplomachus was fixed on the whites of the eyes of the man underneath his foot. Years training and preparation for this moment meant that the retiarius hid his fear well, at least from everybody except the bulk above, so tall it appeared that his head was in the sky. His last thought was that the hoplomachus resembled Mars, the god of war, descended from the heavens
“DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!”
Their eyes locked, and the hoplomachus grinned broadly, enjoying and relishing the moment. He raised the trident, preparing for the death stroke. The crowd roared in the ears of retiarius.
The trident came down.
Untitled
Gavin Kratt
I am a social person, I will admit that. I like talking to people, learning from them, learning about them. I wouldn’t say I like people though, I guess I just like learning. Through all my years of talking to people and learning about their behaviors and personalities it’s become very easy for me to determine whether a person is genuine or not. Most of them are not, but that’s just life I guess. It’s not like I have a sixth sense: I just know how people are feeling or what they are thinking and no, it’s not like that. I’ve trained myself, without knowing it, to read the tiniest abnormalities in a person’s behavior. These abnormalities tell me what mood the other person is in, a slight social distance if they are sad, or a small stutter if they are nervous. Most people don’t pick up on these things, I consider it as somewhat of a super power.
Sometimes I’m wrong, of course, but most of the time I get it bang on. I’ve never met someone I couldn’t read, well until a few months ago.
She was new to our school. She had long golden hair, blue-green eyes and had light freckles along her cheekbones and nose. The way she dressed reminded me of a hippie. I knew right away she didn’t fit in with the sports girls or the music nerds, or the stoners, or popular girls, or the academics… To be honest, she just didn’t fit in. It puzzled me for a moment, two at most, but I quickly forgot about it.
A week later I see her again, she was rushing outside the school door in a hurry, she was stressed out, I could tell that much, it was the way she was glancing over her shoulder. I follow her, at a slower pace. She turns a corner into the garden and I walk faster, stopping at the corner and looking around it. I see her perched on the balls of her feet with her hands together and eyes closed, looking up to the sky. I refresh my standing position, but as I adjust my feet I hit a pebble. It rolls across the pavement making a high pitched clunk. She looks my way as I dart my head back behind the corner. I don’t think she saw me.
I look again around the corner. I see her cover up something in dirt and leave in the same rushed speed walk as before.
When I know she’s gone, I walk over to the spot in the garden where she was. I see a slight difference in the dirt below me and start to dig. It didn’t take long before i found something. I pick the object up. It seems to be a small metal box. I wipe the dirt off it and open it.
Inside I find three things. A ring. The ring is interesting. It has a colorful gem, a mixture of blues and purples. Three sage leaves. The leaves were dry and crisp. A wooden bird. The bird was small and crudely carved with white and purple paint, faded. One wing was broken off.
Why would someone hide this? It’s just junk. I begin to close the box when I notice something, or hear it rather. The lid makes a clicking sound. I shake the box next to my ear. When I do, a piece of paper falls onto the floor. I pick it up. On it is written a phone number.
802 734 7819
Interesting. I put the box back in the whole and re-bury it. I don’t take anything, except for the little piece of paper tucked in the small pocket of my backpack.
This was the start of an adventure that I wish I had never gotten myself into.
Gavin Kratt
I am a social person, I will admit that. I like talking to people, learning from them, learning about them. I wouldn’t say I like people though, I guess I just like learning. Through all my years of talking to people and learning about their behaviors and personalities it’s become very easy for me to determine whether a person is genuine or not. Most of them are not, but that’s just life I guess. It’s not like I have a sixth sense: I just know how people are feeling or what they are thinking and no, it’s not like that. I’ve trained myself, without knowing it, to read the tiniest abnormalities in a person’s behavior. These abnormalities tell me what mood the other person is in, a slight social distance if they are sad, or a small stutter if they are nervous. Most people don’t pick up on these things, I consider it as somewhat of a super power.
Sometimes I’m wrong, of course, but most of the time I get it bang on. I’ve never met someone I couldn’t read, well until a few months ago.
She was new to our school. She had long golden hair, blue-green eyes and had light freckles along her cheekbones and nose. The way she dressed reminded me of a hippie. I knew right away she didn’t fit in with the sports girls or the music nerds, or the stoners, or popular girls, or the academics… To be honest, she just didn’t fit in. It puzzled me for a moment, two at most, but I quickly forgot about it.
A week later I see her again, she was rushing outside the school door in a hurry, she was stressed out, I could tell that much, it was the way she was glancing over her shoulder. I follow her, at a slower pace. She turns a corner into the garden and I walk faster, stopping at the corner and looking around it. I see her perched on the balls of her feet with her hands together and eyes closed, looking up to the sky. I refresh my standing position, but as I adjust my feet I hit a pebble. It rolls across the pavement making a high pitched clunk. She looks my way as I dart my head back behind the corner. I don’t think she saw me.
I look again around the corner. I see her cover up something in dirt and leave in the same rushed speed walk as before.
When I know she’s gone, I walk over to the spot in the garden where she was. I see a slight difference in the dirt below me and start to dig. It didn’t take long before i found something. I pick the object up. It seems to be a small metal box. I wipe the dirt off it and open it.
Inside I find three things. A ring. The ring is interesting. It has a colorful gem, a mixture of blues and purples. Three sage leaves. The leaves were dry and crisp. A wooden bird. The bird was small and crudely carved with white and purple paint, faded. One wing was broken off.
Why would someone hide this? It’s just junk. I begin to close the box when I notice something, or hear it rather. The lid makes a clicking sound. I shake the box next to my ear. When I do, a piece of paper falls onto the floor. I pick it up. On it is written a phone number.
802 734 7819
Interesting. I put the box back in the whole and re-bury it. I don’t take anything, except for the little piece of paper tucked in the small pocket of my backpack.
This was the start of an adventure that I wish I had never gotten myself into.
LOLA
Sydney Skinner
I squinted, blinking rapidly until the white surrounding me became clear. White ceiling tiles were the only thing in my vision besides two fluorescent lights that flickered every few seconds. I turned my head to the left, a navy blue hospital chair and an IV drip that I was positive led to my left arm came into view. The chair was empty, so I turned my head to the right and froze at the sight of her.
Lola, after hearing my quick intake of breath, glanced up from a thick novel that was resting on her lap and a smile spread across her face. My chest fluttered at the sight of her and my lip quirked up subconsciously.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She placed her book on a small table and stood up, never taking her gaze off of me. My cheeks heated under her stare, but I was unable to take my eyes away from hers. She kneeled beside the hospital bed, my right hand in hers, and she rested her forehead against the bed.
“It wasn’t time yet,” she murmured into the bed, “it wasn’t your time yet.”
I stared at her long blonde hair, thick locks falling over her shoulders that were covered in a grey turtleneck. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, hands clasping onto mine as if her life depended on it. She would stroke my palm with her thumbs every few seconds, mumbling incoherent words to herself.
She finally glanced up, eyes red and swollen with silent tears. “You almost died!” With that, her bottom lip quivered and a traitor tear slid down her cheek. I reached over, ignoring the IV poking into my arm, and wiped the tear away with a small, hesitant smile. Her eyes didn’t reach mine as she whispered, “I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t, I’m here. You can’t get away from me that easily.” But my weak joke didn’t amuse her, she simply continued sniffling and stroking my hand.
The hospital room door opened and a familiar woman walked in behind a man dressed in blue scrubs. Lola left the room silently and without a goodbye just as the woman began bawling hysterically. I watched my mother with a blank stare as she shoved past the doctor and threw her arms around my neck.
“My baby!” She blubbered right into my ear, shaking my shoulders with her loud, vexatious wails. “Mommy is so glad you’re okay! Oh, my baby!” She released her death grip from around me and backed up, scowling through tears. “I’m going to sue! That drunk driver is going to lose all his money! Almost killing my baby, I- Harold, come here!”
My father, with his greying dark hair and deep bags under his eyes, rushed into the room. When his eyes landed on me, he rushed over and hugged me, much softer than my mother’s distressed hold had been.
The doctor cleared his throat, gaining the attention of myself and my parents. He smiled politely at us and then glanced at a clipboard. “Mr and Mrs. Halden, now that your daughter is conscious, I’m going to run a few tests to see if there was anything we missed or anything that might have affected Isobel’s conscious state. I’d like to ask that you wait outside.”
My mother sent me a sorrowful look but followed my father out of the room without any complaints. When the door had shut behind them, the doctor stepped forward and pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket.
“Follow the light,” he ordered quietly. With a flashlight glaring at my face, he asked, “How are you feeling right now, Isobel? Lightheaded? Thirsty? Tired?” I shook my head in response. “That’s good.” He directed the flashlight towards my other eye and then backed away. “Everything looks good, but I’m going to have some tests done just to make sure. Before that though, may I ask you some questions?”
“Go ahead,” I sat up straighter, happy that I was regaining my strength back enough to move around.
The doctor flipped through some papers from his seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “Alright, what is the last thing you remember before or during the accident?”
I thought back. I remember listening to my bluetooth system, just a few blocks away from home. I was driving home from my best friend’s house when a truck ran through a red light and crashed into the driver’s side of my car. I remember tires squealing and screams, whether they were my own I didn’t remember. I recited that to the doctor, who smiled politely and nodded before jotting it down.
“That’s excellent, Isobel. It seems your memory hasn’t been affected by the crash from my understanding so far. You broke two of the ribs on your left side, does it hurt to move around or breathe?”
My chest swelled as I glanced down through the neck of my gown to see bandages wrapped around my chest. With Lola I hadn’t even noticed when I twisted to wipe her tear or stroke her hair. I shook my head, breaking eye contact with the doctor to stare at the thin sheets.
“That’s great! Of course I’ll be conducting brain scans and chest scans to better see the situation at hand before you’re released, but that’s a very good sign. Next question, uh… Are you seeing or hearing strange things?” I glanced up with a raised eyebrow. I thought we both already figured out that there was nothing wrong with my brain or mental state. He cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously noticing my stare. “I’m sorry, but this can be a symptom of brain damage or PTSD, it’s mandatory that I ask...”
“I’m not delusional, sir,” I answered as politely as I could while being ever so slightly irritated. “I haven’t seen or heard anything that’s not there. I’m very much sane.”
The doctor stood with a small chuckle, jotting something down again before looking back up at me with a smile. “Alright, that’s all for now. I’ll have a nurse come in for the physical scan in a few minutes.”
I was released that evening, pouting childishly from my seated position in a wheelchair when we reached the hospital parking lot. Lola was leaning against the hospital wall, watching me with that familiar, soft smile and bright blue eyes.
I ordered my dad to stop pushing the wheelchair and he obeyed without a word, allowing me to stand up shakily. My mother squawked a complaint, but I ignored her ear splitting protests. “I’m going to go see Lola,” I announced, turning to look at the beautiful blonde, who shot me a quick smile.
Dad looked surprised, but my mom looked dumbstruck. “See Lola?” Her voice, unlike the loud, obnoxious cries she’d been letting out for the past 24 hours, barely passed a mutter. “Well I don’t know, Isobel…”
“I’ll drive you,” Dad offered, shooting mom a look. She shut up and pushed the wheelchair back into the hospital, muttering as she went. “Come, let’s wait for your mother in the car.”
“Ha, very funny, Dad,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “You don’t need to drive me. I’ll come home later, love you.”
When mom got back, the two of them glanced at each other and then walked to the car together, leaving me alone until Lola walked up. She threw an arm around me without thought, letting out a peaceful sigh as she did so. I closed my eyes at the most meaningless contact, letting myself relax under her familiar touch. When I opened my eyes again, she placed a small kiss against my cheek and we left the hospital together.
It had been a week since I was released from the hospital. Absolutely nothing had changed, except maybe the number in the drunk driver’s bank account after my parents won a case stating that the uninjured man would pay for the damage costs, but that was all. And yet I was still receiving the same sympathetic glances every time I told someone I was going to see Lola.
We were dating, we had been since freshman year, so I didn’t see the big issue. It’s not like it was wrong for me to spend time with the girl that I loved, especially after an accident that terrified everyone, especially her. It was only natural for us to spend a lot of time together after that.
I was sat on my bedroom floor, my best friend on my bed, watching her stare at me with that same sympathetic look my parents had been giving me all week. She played with her curly brown hair out of nervous habit, but I continued to stare blankly at her.
“It, it’s not that I don’t like you seeing her, but…” Her usually soft features scrunched up as she grimaced. “You’ve been seeing her a lot more since the crash. Are you… okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” What an odd question.
Lea sighed, running her hands over her blankets in order to avoid eye contact. She finally looked up, her dark eyes searching over my face briefly before she said, “I just don’t know, you don’t seem okay.”
“Am I not allowed to see my girlfriend?” I shot back defensively. At this, the brunette raised an eyebrow curiously. I was irritated and tired, and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing Lola anytime soon. Not with everyone interrogating me. I’ll invite her over tonight, I thought, then she and Lea could become more acquainted. Is Lea annoyed because I’m spending more time with Lola than her? Should I-
“You still consider her your girlfriend?” My eyes shot up and narrowed, settling into a glare. Why would she even ask me that?! Of course I still considered her my girlfriend! Why would she think differently?!
“We haven’t broken up,” I responded bluntly, rolling my eyes.
Before she could say anything, my mom yelled up for us to come down for dinner. Lea and I both sighed, but stood up and walked out of my room without another word. I sent Lola a text as I walked down the stairs, inviting her over after to dinner to stay the night. I didn’t get a response, but she was never much of a texter. She’d call me if she couldn’t.
We finally sat down at the table when my mom turned to me. “Is your chest feeling alright, honey?” I sent her a small smile and nodded my response. “Good, good.”
Silence settled in the dining room until she spoke again. “Will you be visiting Lola after school tomorrow? I’ll hold back dinner if you are.”
“I invited her over after dinner tonight actually.”
My father dropped his eating utensils, the metal crashing against his plate. My mother let out a loud, abrupt incoherent noise and Lea covered her mouth with her hand, her brown eyes wide. I continued eating, rolling my eyes at their reactions.
“What?” I snapped when they continued to stare at me. “Is she now not allowed to come over?”
I heard the front door open and close and I turned to see the smiling, familiar face of my beautiful girlfriend. She leaned over and pecked my cheek, walking around the table to sit across from me. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Just seeing her sitting there so casually, eyes sparkling like they always had, it made my chest squeeze.
“Isobel!” I turned to look at my mom, who looked like she was going to cry any second. “Isobel, honey I’m so sorry. We have to get you back to the hospital, right now.”
“What? Why?” Glancing around the dining room, everyone but Lola was staring at me with unreadable expressions. That beautiful blonde simply continued smiling at me, reaching over the table to take my hand in hers. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her, couldn’t stop my heart from pounding at the warmth of her hand in mine.
“Honey… Lola... “
Suddenly, the girl across from me paled. Her tan complexion faded until I could see the wall behind her, through her. The hand that felt so warm only seconds ago was now just cold air wrapping around my skin tauntingly.
She was completely transparent.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Mom whispered, “but Lola died in a car accident two years ago.”
Sydney Skinner
I squinted, blinking rapidly until the white surrounding me became clear. White ceiling tiles were the only thing in my vision besides two fluorescent lights that flickered every few seconds. I turned my head to the left, a navy blue hospital chair and an IV drip that I was positive led to my left arm came into view. The chair was empty, so I turned my head to the right and froze at the sight of her.
Lola, after hearing my quick intake of breath, glanced up from a thick novel that was resting on her lap and a smile spread across her face. My chest fluttered at the sight of her and my lip quirked up subconsciously.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She placed her book on a small table and stood up, never taking her gaze off of me. My cheeks heated under her stare, but I was unable to take my eyes away from hers. She kneeled beside the hospital bed, my right hand in hers, and she rested her forehead against the bed.
“It wasn’t time yet,” she murmured into the bed, “it wasn’t your time yet.”
I stared at her long blonde hair, thick locks falling over her shoulders that were covered in a grey turtleneck. Her shoulders shook ever so slightly, hands clasping onto mine as if her life depended on it. She would stroke my palm with her thumbs every few seconds, mumbling incoherent words to herself.
She finally glanced up, eyes red and swollen with silent tears. “You almost died!” With that, her bottom lip quivered and a traitor tear slid down her cheek. I reached over, ignoring the IV poking into my arm, and wiped the tear away with a small, hesitant smile. Her eyes didn’t reach mine as she whispered, “I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t, I’m here. You can’t get away from me that easily.” But my weak joke didn’t amuse her, she simply continued sniffling and stroking my hand.
The hospital room door opened and a familiar woman walked in behind a man dressed in blue scrubs. Lola left the room silently and without a goodbye just as the woman began bawling hysterically. I watched my mother with a blank stare as she shoved past the doctor and threw her arms around my neck.
“My baby!” She blubbered right into my ear, shaking my shoulders with her loud, vexatious wails. “Mommy is so glad you’re okay! Oh, my baby!” She released her death grip from around me and backed up, scowling through tears. “I’m going to sue! That drunk driver is going to lose all his money! Almost killing my baby, I- Harold, come here!”
My father, with his greying dark hair and deep bags under his eyes, rushed into the room. When his eyes landed on me, he rushed over and hugged me, much softer than my mother’s distressed hold had been.
The doctor cleared his throat, gaining the attention of myself and my parents. He smiled politely at us and then glanced at a clipboard. “Mr and Mrs. Halden, now that your daughter is conscious, I’m going to run a few tests to see if there was anything we missed or anything that might have affected Isobel’s conscious state. I’d like to ask that you wait outside.”
My mother sent me a sorrowful look but followed my father out of the room without any complaints. When the door had shut behind them, the doctor stepped forward and pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket.
“Follow the light,” he ordered quietly. With a flashlight glaring at my face, he asked, “How are you feeling right now, Isobel? Lightheaded? Thirsty? Tired?” I shook my head in response. “That’s good.” He directed the flashlight towards my other eye and then backed away. “Everything looks good, but I’m going to have some tests done just to make sure. Before that though, may I ask you some questions?”
“Go ahead,” I sat up straighter, happy that I was regaining my strength back enough to move around.
The doctor flipped through some papers from his seat at the foot of the hospital bed. “Alright, what is the last thing you remember before or during the accident?”
I thought back. I remember listening to my bluetooth system, just a few blocks away from home. I was driving home from my best friend’s house when a truck ran through a red light and crashed into the driver’s side of my car. I remember tires squealing and screams, whether they were my own I didn’t remember. I recited that to the doctor, who smiled politely and nodded before jotting it down.
“That’s excellent, Isobel. It seems your memory hasn’t been affected by the crash from my understanding so far. You broke two of the ribs on your left side, does it hurt to move around or breathe?”
My chest swelled as I glanced down through the neck of my gown to see bandages wrapped around my chest. With Lola I hadn’t even noticed when I twisted to wipe her tear or stroke her hair. I shook my head, breaking eye contact with the doctor to stare at the thin sheets.
“That’s great! Of course I’ll be conducting brain scans and chest scans to better see the situation at hand before you’re released, but that’s a very good sign. Next question, uh… Are you seeing or hearing strange things?” I glanced up with a raised eyebrow. I thought we both already figured out that there was nothing wrong with my brain or mental state. He cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously noticing my stare. “I’m sorry, but this can be a symptom of brain damage or PTSD, it’s mandatory that I ask...”
“I’m not delusional, sir,” I answered as politely as I could while being ever so slightly irritated. “I haven’t seen or heard anything that’s not there. I’m very much sane.”
The doctor stood with a small chuckle, jotting something down again before looking back up at me with a smile. “Alright, that’s all for now. I’ll have a nurse come in for the physical scan in a few minutes.”
I was released that evening, pouting childishly from my seated position in a wheelchair when we reached the hospital parking lot. Lola was leaning against the hospital wall, watching me with that familiar, soft smile and bright blue eyes.
I ordered my dad to stop pushing the wheelchair and he obeyed without a word, allowing me to stand up shakily. My mother squawked a complaint, but I ignored her ear splitting protests. “I’m going to go see Lola,” I announced, turning to look at the beautiful blonde, who shot me a quick smile.
Dad looked surprised, but my mom looked dumbstruck. “See Lola?” Her voice, unlike the loud, obnoxious cries she’d been letting out for the past 24 hours, barely passed a mutter. “Well I don’t know, Isobel…”
“I’ll drive you,” Dad offered, shooting mom a look. She shut up and pushed the wheelchair back into the hospital, muttering as she went. “Come, let’s wait for your mother in the car.”
“Ha, very funny, Dad,” I rolled my eyes playfully. “You don’t need to drive me. I’ll come home later, love you.”
When mom got back, the two of them glanced at each other and then walked to the car together, leaving me alone until Lola walked up. She threw an arm around me without thought, letting out a peaceful sigh as she did so. I closed my eyes at the most meaningless contact, letting myself relax under her familiar touch. When I opened my eyes again, she placed a small kiss against my cheek and we left the hospital together.
It had been a week since I was released from the hospital. Absolutely nothing had changed, except maybe the number in the drunk driver’s bank account after my parents won a case stating that the uninjured man would pay for the damage costs, but that was all. And yet I was still receiving the same sympathetic glances every time I told someone I was going to see Lola.
We were dating, we had been since freshman year, so I didn’t see the big issue. It’s not like it was wrong for me to spend time with the girl that I loved, especially after an accident that terrified everyone, especially her. It was only natural for us to spend a lot of time together after that.
I was sat on my bedroom floor, my best friend on my bed, watching her stare at me with that same sympathetic look my parents had been giving me all week. She played with her curly brown hair out of nervous habit, but I continued to stare blankly at her.
“It, it’s not that I don’t like you seeing her, but…” Her usually soft features scrunched up as she grimaced. “You’ve been seeing her a lot more since the crash. Are you… okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” What an odd question.
Lea sighed, running her hands over her blankets in order to avoid eye contact. She finally looked up, her dark eyes searching over my face briefly before she said, “I just don’t know, you don’t seem okay.”
“Am I not allowed to see my girlfriend?” I shot back defensively. At this, the brunette raised an eyebrow curiously. I was irritated and tired, and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing Lola anytime soon. Not with everyone interrogating me. I’ll invite her over tonight, I thought, then she and Lea could become more acquainted. Is Lea annoyed because I’m spending more time with Lola than her? Should I-
“You still consider her your girlfriend?” My eyes shot up and narrowed, settling into a glare. Why would she even ask me that?! Of course I still considered her my girlfriend! Why would she think differently?!
“We haven’t broken up,” I responded bluntly, rolling my eyes.
Before she could say anything, my mom yelled up for us to come down for dinner. Lea and I both sighed, but stood up and walked out of my room without another word. I sent Lola a text as I walked down the stairs, inviting her over after to dinner to stay the night. I didn’t get a response, but she was never much of a texter. She’d call me if she couldn’t.
We finally sat down at the table when my mom turned to me. “Is your chest feeling alright, honey?” I sent her a small smile and nodded my response. “Good, good.”
Silence settled in the dining room until she spoke again. “Will you be visiting Lola after school tomorrow? I’ll hold back dinner if you are.”
“I invited her over after dinner tonight actually.”
My father dropped his eating utensils, the metal crashing against his plate. My mother let out a loud, abrupt incoherent noise and Lea covered her mouth with her hand, her brown eyes wide. I continued eating, rolling my eyes at their reactions.
“What?” I snapped when they continued to stare at me. “Is she now not allowed to come over?”
I heard the front door open and close and I turned to see the smiling, familiar face of my beautiful girlfriend. She leaned over and pecked my cheek, walking around the table to sit across from me. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Just seeing her sitting there so casually, eyes sparkling like they always had, it made my chest squeeze.
“Isobel!” I turned to look at my mom, who looked like she was going to cry any second. “Isobel, honey I’m so sorry. We have to get you back to the hospital, right now.”
“What? Why?” Glancing around the dining room, everyone but Lola was staring at me with unreadable expressions. That beautiful blonde simply continued smiling at me, reaching over the table to take my hand in hers. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her, couldn’t stop my heart from pounding at the warmth of her hand in mine.
“Honey… Lola... “
Suddenly, the girl across from me paled. Her tan complexion faded until I could see the wall behind her, through her. The hand that felt so warm only seconds ago was now just cold air wrapping around my skin tauntingly.
She was completely transparent.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Mom whispered, “but Lola died in a car accident two years ago.”
The Sisters Blue
Kate Reeve
Kate Reeve
Lights shine bluer in the city. Everything has strange tilt, as if 90 degrees is only 85 here
Went out last night. Came home drunk and lazy. Couldn’t remember which apartment was mine so sat in lobby and smoked. I’m quitting tomorrow, hand to heart.
Lots of music. Perennial music. Guy in apartment below me (ad man) likes jazz, especially Charles Barclay. Now I know all there is to know about jazz. Wore a sweater for the last time last week. Summer blooming and haven’t even swum yet. Tried once. Beach smelled fishy and I couldn’t. Maybe will try another beach soon.
Come see me, one day, visit. No room but you can share my bed.
Helen
Went out last night. Came home drunk and lazy. Couldn’t remember which apartment was mine so sat in lobby and smoked. I’m quitting tomorrow, hand to heart.
Lots of music. Perennial music. Guy in apartment below me (ad man) likes jazz, especially Charles Barclay. Now I know all there is to know about jazz. Wore a sweater for the last time last week. Summer blooming and haven’t even swum yet. Tried once. Beach smelled fishy and I couldn’t. Maybe will try another beach soon.
Come see me, one day, visit. No room but you can share my bed.
Helen
Today was totally blue. Blue in the bluest of ways - all spring and freshness and nervous pearl. I walked Bennie down the path by the river in her pram and it was terribly beautiful. The river has begun to crack in tiny silver arrows like fish tails. Soon the warmth and the kids will split it wide open.
Do you remember the last thick winter when we were young? The trees exploded in ice and white. Snow like cold foam on coffee, remember?
The other night after dinner I was thinking about knitting you mittens. It looks cold in New York and the good weatherman (all hair) says it’ll stay chilly for weeks. I’ll knit you some. Don’t lose them, please.
Maude
Do you remember the last thick winter when we were young? The trees exploded in ice and white. Snow like cold foam on coffee, remember?
The other night after dinner I was thinking about knitting you mittens. It looks cold in New York and the good weatherman (all hair) says it’ll stay chilly for weeks. I’ll knit you some. Don’t lose them, please.
Maude
So hot today thought I was drowning. City empties in August but all the poor stay stuck.
Went to Chinatown on a whim. Yellow faced men everywhere. I think they all wanted to fuck me because they couldn’t stop looking. Can you just imagine? Not waitressing anymore - job in office. Answer phones, get coffee. Easy and pay is good.
Bought new shoes with first cheque. Old now but still smell good, like the store. They’re blue and black. More blue than black, really. Gaudy for their own sake. You’d hate them, but I don’t.
Tell Bennie I say hi. Tell G he owes me fifty.
Helen
Went to Chinatown on a whim. Yellow faced men everywhere. I think they all wanted to fuck me because they couldn’t stop looking. Can you just imagine? Not waitressing anymore - job in office. Answer phones, get coffee. Easy and pay is good.
Bought new shoes with first cheque. Old now but still smell good, like the store. They’re blue and black. More blue than black, really. Gaudy for their own sake. You’d hate them, but I don’t.
Tell Bennie I say hi. Tell G he owes me fifty.
Helen
Today we took the kids down to Blue Lake. Tom drove and then let me on way home while he slept in the boat. Bennie and the boys were tired and crisped in the backseat, slumping over each other like sweet puppies. It was so quiet I could hear myself breathe. I liked the sound of it and the blankness of the dusk. I forget about dusk, you know? At home, dusk disappears into the diapers and dinners and other, less dignified wifely duties. So I forget about dusk, but never dawn. I hate the dawn. The sun rises laughing and I want to kick it in the mouth.
We had a picnic lunch on the beach with the sun spilling down.
Mom called yesterday, thought you should know. Says Dad is fine and she is fine. I said I was fine. Are you fine? I hope you got the mittens before the summer rushed in. Also, I hope you quit smoking for certain this time. It is mannish and bad for the lungs.
G says he already paid you back but don’t trust him. B says hi back Auntie H. I say come home, why don’t you? There’s lots of room.
Maude
We had a picnic lunch on the beach with the sun spilling down.
Mom called yesterday, thought you should know. Says Dad is fine and she is fine. I said I was fine. Are you fine? I hope you got the mittens before the summer rushed in. Also, I hope you quit smoking for certain this time. It is mannish and bad for the lungs.
G says he already paid you back but don’t trust him. B says hi back Auntie H. I say come home, why don’t you? There’s lots of room.
Maude