Complementary Colors (30 page)

I leaned down to snort another line, missed my nose and wound up jabbing myself in the corner of my eye with the straw. Crimson dominated my vision. I gave up.

Dan popped his hips, but the ass he fucked belonged to the man on his lap, bouncing like a rag doll with every thrust. My grip slipped off the door, and I failed to keep my face from smacking the table. The mirror danced near my nose, celebrating the moment.

Dusty air tickled my throat, and I coughed. The bitter taste in my mouth increased with every inhale until I gagged. I closed my mouth and breathed through my nose. It burned, and I sneezed, but it didn’t go away.

“Gonna come, Paris. I’m gonna fill you full.”

There was a pig in the limo. It grunted and squealed. It fucked me so hard my insides tried to push him out. It wouldn’t stop, and I wanted it to. I wanted everything to end.

With the last happy moment in my life sitting abandoned at a café, it just wasn’t worth fighting anymore. Shadows crawled from the corners of the limo, followed by the white rabbit wearing a cheap pinstripe suit.

The rabbit could take me some place even Julia couldn’t reach. I’d been there once before, and I realized I should have never left. Now that there was no reason—no one—to keep me here, I was ready to let go.

I took the white rabbit’s paw, and he led me down the rabbithole.

A monotone bird chirped close to my ear. I tried to push it away but couldn’t find it. I reached higher. I yanked on the vines hanging from the weird metal tree over my head, and it came crashing down.

“Whoa, whoa, Paris.” Roy grabbed my arms. “Easy. It’s okay.”

He picked up a white block near my arm. God spoke, “How may I help you?”

“Get Dr. Howell. Paris is awake.”

Roy cupped my cheek. Before I could ask him how he’d fallen down the rabbithole, a big square pig on wheels squeaked by a lighted window. Was it looking for me? The monotone bird chirped a warning.

“Paris.” Roy braced my arms. “You’re okay. Relax. There aren’t any pigs.”

“I heard it.”

“It’s just the food cart.”

“A trough. It’s called a trough.” The bird kept singing. “How did you get here?”

“Dr. Howell called me when she saw you in the ER.”

The white rabbit climbed through the window and stopped by my bed. It plugged its ears with a stethoscope. “I didn’t know you were a doctor.” I tried to sit up, but Roy held me down.

The rabbit took something from the pocket of its coat. A coat, not fur. And the rabbit had the hands of a woman.

A light poked me in the eye.

“Hold still, Mr. Duvoe.” She flashed one eye, then the next. “Now I’m going to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, but I didn’t study for the test.”

She glanced at Roy. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Friday. Went to the showing.”

To Roy, the woman said, “It’s okay. He’s been out for a while. I didn’t expect him to know. But he remembers where he was, and that’s good.” She looked at me. “Do you know your name?”

“Paris Duvoe.”

“And what is it you do, Mr. Duvoe?”

“I paint terrible pictures, and people buy them.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.” I only knew it wasn’t the rabbithole. There was only darkness down there, no doctors, and no Roy.

“You’re in a hospital. Do you remember how you got here?”

“No.” I was going to fail this test.

“Do you remember anything before you blacked out?”

“There was a pig.” A jumble of memories and tactile sensations made my head spin. “Not a pig. He just sounded like a pig. Julia told me to go home with him.” I squinted at the doctor. “I know you. I met you at the café.”

Dr. Howell smiled and patted my hand. “It’s good you remember.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Roy said.

The doctor stepped back. “We’re going to run more tests. But I’m hopeful.” She squeezed Roy’s shoulder. “This was close, Roy. Talk to him. We can’t help until he lets us.”

She left.

The monotone chirp continued. “Can she take the bird with her?”

“Bird?”

I pointed in the direction of the sound.

“It’s a heart monitor,” Roy said.

“It’s annoying.”

He searched the machine and punched a button on the front. The chirping stopped.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Here.” Roy adjusted my pillows and pulled the blankets up to my ribs.

I touched his hand and played my fingertips over his knuckles, to the tip of his nails, and down each digit.

Roy’s worried gaze squeezed my heart.

“I didn’t mean…I’m sor…”

“It’s okay.”

“It will never be okay.” Saying it made the truth even bigger than before. I tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let me.

“It will be okay, Paris. I promise.”

“How?” I didn’t expect him to have an answer. I think I even hoped he wouldn’t. But I should have learned by then, there was nothing impossible in Roy’s book.

He kept his promises.

Unlike me.

“Dr. Howell’s colleague, Dr. Carmichael wants to meet with you.”

“He’s the shrink.”

“Yeah.”

Roy pushed my bangs back. “Will you talk to him?”

I fondled the sheets. Outside in the hall, another food cart passed by. But it didn’t squeak.

“Paris?”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “How did I get here?”

“One of the nurses said you were dumped out of a car at the ER entrance. They didn’t get a tag.”

“Limo.” I licked my lips, and they burned. “It was a limo.”

Roy pulled over the roll-away table with a pitcher and stack of plastic cups. He poured a cup of water and held it up to me. I drank, washing the grit from my throat and soothing the burn in my stomach.

I didn’t stop until it was empty.

“Do you want more?”

I had no idea.

Roy put the cup on the table. “Tell me if you do.”

I nodded. For some reason, it was then I noticed the wrinkles in Roy’s clothes, the spot of coffee on the edge of his T-shirt barely hidden by the vee of his flannel shirt. There were dark circles under Roy’s eyes, and his hair stuck up on one side of his head.

“How long have you been here?”

Roy ran a hand over the bedrail. “It’s not important.”

“Tell me.”

“Two, maybe three days.”

“Are you sure it’s not five or six?”

A smile pulled at his mouth, but it never formed.

Voices echoed from up the hall, someone laughed, an intercom buzzed, and a lady walked by the door crying. An older gentleman was with her. He draped his arm over her shoulders.

“I waited for you.” There was the smallest waver in Roy’s voice.

I never doubted he would.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Because I’m not good like you.” I plucked at the blankets. “Does Julia know where I am?”

“No. Dr. Howell still has you listed as a John Doe. The police wanted her to call them as soon as you were awake.”

“Police? Why did she call the police?”

“She had to turn in the rape kit.”

“What?” I sat up, and he put a hand on my shoulder. “Rape kit?”

“It’s okay. She pushed the tests through the lab, and everything came up negative. She put you on some drugs as a precaution, but she’s sure everything will be okay.”

“Of course everything will be okay. Julia requires a clean blood screening and condoms. I’m checked monthly, sometimes more.”

“She can’t have them all checked.”

“She can, and she does.”

“I wasn’t tested, and we didn’t use a condom. Whoever raped you didn’t use one either.”

I flopped back against the pillows. “I wasn’t raped.”

“You had injuries.”

“He was a little stingy with lubricant. I knew what I was getting into. I did exactly what I was there to do.”

“And what about me? What if I wasn’t negative?” He rubbed his face and then ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up on that side too. “You’d think at my age I’d know better. It didn’t even cross my mind until Dr. Howell said something. I know I’m not, but I had her run the tests anyhow.”

“You were practically a virgin, Roy. You’ve only been with one other person, and you were married to her.”

“It was still stupid of me.”

I laughed, but the sound broke off, turning into a hissing cough.

Roy poured me another cup of water. “Here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Drink.”

I glared at Roy while I buried another round of coughing into the back of my hand. He tried to put the cup in my free hand, and I slapped it away. Water splatted over the blankets and left dark splotches on his flannel shirt.

“I said I don’t…don’t want it.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

Rage shoved me into a sitting position. “I don’t want your help, Roy. I don’t want anyone’s help.” I clawed at the IVs in my arm. Roy grabbed me by my wrists. “I’m fucked. I will always be fucked.” I kicked the bed rail and it dropped halfway.

“Stop.”

“Why, because you say so?” I jerked, but he held on. “Let go of me.”

“Never.”

“Goddamn it. Let go of me.”

“Please…”

I twisted one hand free and got a hold of the IV line again and snatched it out of my arm. A spurt of blood made red freckles on the white sheets. The line got tangled between us, and the pole toppled. Roy yelled to someone over his shoulder.

My strength left me as quick as it came, and all I could do was bash my head against the pillow.

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Has it ever occurred to you maybe I want to hurt?”

His expression crumpled.

“I’m tired of it, Roy. All of it. I want out. Forever. So for God’s sake, please quit trying to save me and let me die.” I think the words shocked me more than him. Mostly because it was the truth.

Footsteps slapped against the tile. To whoever it was coming through the door, Roy said, “We’re okay.”

Tears ran from the corners of my eyes, across my temples, and soaked my hair. I couldn’t wipe my nose because Roy wouldn’t let go. He kept his promises. He always kept his promises. And he deserved someone who would appreciate that.

I gritted my teeth in an attempt to hold back a sob. It didn’t work, and once one was out, I was helpless against the rest.

“Shh—” Roy gathered me in his arms. “Shh—it’s okay.”

“No.”

“It is.”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of fighting the monster. I’m tired of singing its lullaby. I’m tired of everything.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“But I’m too scared to face it. I’m a coward.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, Paris.”

“It should have been me.” I dug my fingers into the softness of his shirt. “But I was scared, and I hid.”

“I know you did.”

“You can’t know. No one does. Julia won’t let me tell them.” I buried my face into Roy’s neck, hoping it would block out the scent of sour earth.

“I know about the boy.”

A cold wash of shame started from my head and bled to my toes. I couldn’t stop shivering.

“I know you were afraid. I know you hid.”

“How?” I lifted my head. There was nothing but kindness in his eyes. “How can you know?”

“Your paintings.”

Because unlike anyone else, Roy saw what I hid behind colors and lines.

“I lied,” I said.

“To who?”

“His mother.”

“Of the boy?”

“Yes.”

“Who was the man with the hammer?”

“I’m not supposed to tell.”

“Was it your father?”

I shook my head, and then I nodded. Leaves and sticks crackled from somewhere behind me. I never even noticed Roy let me go long enough to lower the bed rail. He was just there, sitting on the bed, holding my hand, and petting my hair back from my eyes.

“Did Julia know what happened?”

I squeezed his hand so hard my fingers hurt.

“Did she?”

I closed my eyes.

“The Judas. That was her, wasn’t it? Standing at the door.”

“Yes.”

“The Red Crucifixion. Who was the woman on the cross?”

“My mother.”

“The innocent. That was you?”

“Yes.” I wanted to look away, but I was pinned down by Roy’s gaze and made helpless by his presence.

“The Crying Prophet?”

“My father.”

“How old were you when he shot himself?”

“Nine. Ten. I’m not sure.” All these years, I’d wanted people to see the truth hidden in my lie, and no one did. Now I wished Roy couldn’t see either.

“You found him?”

“In my room. He shot himself in my room.”

“The Love Letter?”

Tears bled out of my eyes. “My confession.” Cold. I was so cold. “Because I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“But you did tell.”

“Later. When it didn’t matter anymore.”

“And you still tell. In every painting you create, you tell the world what happened.”

“No one hears me.”

“I hear you.”

“No one cares.”

“I do.”

“No one believes.”

“I believe you. Every word.”

His beautiful green eyes glowed against his toffee-colored skin. Eyes that saw. Eyes that didn’t condemn. Eyes that found something inside me worth keeping.

Worth saving.

I put my lips close to Roy’s ear. “Thank you.”

Dressed in paper shoes, a hospital gown, and pushing an IV pole, I was a man taking his final walk to judgment.

My trembling and shortness of breath had nothing to do with needing a high and everything to do with fear. Pure fear. Raw fear. A swarm of angry rats working to destroy me.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a wheelchair?” Roy put his arm around my back.

“No.”

“This is crazy, making you walk to this man’s office.”

“Crazy, huh?” I laughed. “Have you stopped to look around and see where you are?” I told myself I’d die before I ever came back to a place like this. The only reason I hadn’t thrown myself out a window was because this was just a detox wing and the windows wouldn’t open.

My feet stopped moving a few yards from Dr. Carmichael’s office.

“Paris.” Roy stroked the back of my head.

“I’m okay.”

“Let me take you back. He can just come to your room.”