V. H. King's Ink

People either fall for me or try to kill me.  Little did I know that today, it would be both.  At the same time. 

Gina dropped me like hot cast iron.  The rope, suddenly slack now that it wasn’t in her hands, swished through hooks and carbines while my usual tenor solo sky-rocketed to an alto-soprano debut.  Too bad it was opening night.  All the critics would be raving about this or hating the astronomical range I’d improvised while plummeting toward the orchestra pit.  At least I was still in key.

I fell like a flour sack, flat on my back—narrowly missing the edge of the stage and an upright bass.  Thankfully, my insides didn’t explode all over the masking tape marks for set pieces.

The crowd gasps in the sudden silence after my fall, realizing that this wasn’t in the script.  Sometimes the audience is dense, but sometimes they can tell.  And—well, the complete quiet was another clue. 

More clinks overhead.  A sudden wind and rush of fabric.  Curtains closed. 

From my view on the stage floor, I peek the house lights go up.  The director instigates a short trill of notes, ad-libbing some drama to add to my fall.  The audience corresponds with tentative applause that quickly turns enthusiastic.  This will be the best and only version of the show.  Lucky them. 

A squeal catches my attention.  The kind of metallic note that can’t mean anything good. 

Someone’s hands grab my ankles and yank.  I never thought blackness could blur, but that’s what happened.  The second curtain drops.  And I don’t just mean the fabric.  I’m talking the entire rig—hooks, bars, and all—crashes down. 

---

Intermission starts with an ambulance in the alley and cocktails in the lobby.  Lydia’s shadow swims somewhere in my vision.

“Don’t you move, Clarise,” she says.  “Don’t you dare.”

“Didn’t you just move me?” I ask.  “You did, didn’t you?  You’re the only one who—”

“Coming through!  Make way please!”

I can’t help but giggle.

“I’ve never felt like so much royalty before.”

“Stay still, Clarise.”

Lydia’s voice is low in a chilling imitation of Anthony Hopkins.  It’s what she does when she’s serious.  She squeezes my hand, not letting go even as she waves the EMT’s over.

“Do I have a concussion?”

“We’ll see.”

“Did you check on Gina?”

“The catwalk’s three stories up,” Lydia tells the paramedics.  “The rope went loose halfway.  I wouldn’t have moved her except that monstrosity came to the party.”

Shadows swim around me.  I can’t see them against the ceiling because there isn’t one.  Just an infinite black.  Lights twinkle in my periphery.  Reds, yellows, blues.  Green and purple.  I wiggle my fingers in Lydia’s grip, trying to get her attention.

“What about Gina?”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Hello, Clarise,” I say, then giggle again.  “I can’t do it as well as Ly can.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Opening night.”  I glance around at all the twinkling lights.  “And it’s almost like the night literally just…opened.  Like, I mean all of space.  It’s like there’s a window and you can see…”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Still on earth, because there’s gravity.  Or maybe somewhere else, because there’s too much gravity.  I feel like I’m pinned in place and dizzy at the same time.  That’s not a good sign, is it?”

“Alright, you’re going to be okay—just focus on taking slow breaths for me.”

“I want to know if Gina’s okay.”

Lydia squeezes my hand and I suddenly wish she would stop.  I try to pull away, but I feel like rubber.  Too much stretchy in the wrong places.  That’s probably another bad sign.  I don’t really want Lydia to let go of my hand though.  Her skin is cool against my own.  I wonder if I’m too warm.  I wonder what gravity is like on Venus and Mars.  Which one is closer to the sun?  Do either of those planets have moons?

The paramedics tell me to wiggle my fingers and toes.  Shine lights in my eyes.  Poke and prod at me.  Tell me to keep still and it’ll be just a few minutes until the doctors can take a good look at me.

“Is it too dark for you to see?” I ask.  “House lights went up, but it can be shadowy back here.  It is for me, at least.”

“Clarise?  Can you see me?”

No Anthony Hopkins impression this time.  But Lydia’s voice is even.  I don’t think anything can make her panic.

“I need you to stay back, ma’—”

“Don’t you ma’am me.”

“How long?” I move my eyes to where I think Lydia’s shadow should be. “How long’s it been?  For intermission?”

“We’re doing a forty-five.”

“I want to talk to Gina.”

“You both just fell several stories, it’s not the best time to have a chat right now.”

“One more thing we have in common!”

“Good, you can talk about it when you’re sharing a hospital room.”

“I’m not going to the hospital, I have to—”

“Will you go if you can talk to Gina?”

“To visit, sure.”

“Think of it as a sleepover.”

I scrunch my face, and all those star-lights triple. The paramedics are saying something, shouting at someone.  I sigh, knowing there’s no talking Lydia out of a ride in the wagon.  The alley is full of falling stars.  Liquid comet trails plummeting, devoured by shadows.  It’s all so much softer than I imagined. 

I’m pretty sure I could have sat up on my own.  Walked to the ambulance with a little help.  The paramedics keep holding my down.  Slide a board underneath me and then load me up.  Lydia releases my hand, and off I go.