As always, your votes, comments and private feedback mean a lot to me.
Thanks go out to my copy editor estragon, my plot editor KatieTay and my beta readers SamanthaYvonne, GoodyGoodyTwoShoes and persorosa.
*
"J-J-Jake. Are you still there?"
"Yes! I'm on my way. The ambulance is on its way as well. Hold on."
Drivers in New York are especially reckless, but Jake was one notch higher. Holding the phone tightly to his ear, he careened through traffic at breakneck speed, violating at least a dozen traffic laws.
For a man who had lived his whole life according to rules, rules had suddenly become irrelevant. Someone he cared about was in the throes of death.
"Jake. Don't stop talking. Please don't stop."
Every syllable was punctuated by a sob.
"I'm almost there, Kat. Hold on a little bit longer."
There was an eerie silence on the other end.
"Kat? Katrina?"
No answer.
His car had barely come to a complete halt in front of the building before he was out, sprinting, running up the stairs three at a time. Adrenaline surged through his system. The other tenants stared at their usually docile neighbour charging past them.
Opening the door, Jake was taken aback by the scene before him. The living room and kitchen resembled a Bosnian war zone. Furniture was upturned, partly broken. Pictures from walls had been flung across the room. The light was cracked, dimly flickering.
Jake stepped through the wreckage. Broken glass and porcelain littered the floor. He stopped at the first small pool of blood on the floor. A smaller pool was a few feet ahead of it. Beyond that, there was a thin trail.
Heart pounding, he followed the trail. It got thicker. There was a bloody handprint against the door frame of her bedroom.
Afraid to see what was inside, he softly opened the door.
Katrina lay on the cold floor, curled in a foetal position. There was a growing pool of blood near her hands. She did not move.
"Kat?"
Jake rushed to her side. She was barely breathing. He took off his expensive tie and tied it tightly around her forearm, stanching the bleeding a little.
Rapid footfalls outside indicated EMTs' arrival. He had called 9-1-1 from the car. Two paramedics rushed into the room and put her on a gurney. One of them injected her with an artificial clotting agent. The entry of the syringe caused her eyelids to flutter.
"Jake?" she said in a pitifully weak voice, "Don't leave me alone, Jake."
He hastily ran down the stairs after the EMTs. She was put in the ambulance and he jumped in with her.
"Hold my hand, please. Don't let go."
"I won't. I promise," said Jake, holding her bloody fingers. The medic inserted an IV into her vein, desperate to keep her alive till they reached the hospital.
Half an hour later, he was pacing the corridors at the Beth Israel Medical Centre. The doctors had given her several pints of blood to steady her system. His hands were smeared with her blood and some of it went onto his new shirt as well. It took him a few minutes to realize that his phone was vibrating in his pocket.
"Hi, Jake. Emma speaking. How is she?"
"She's lost a lot of blood. The doctors say it's going to be touch and go."
"Oh! I hope she makes it."
"Me too. And I'm really sorry about our date."
"No need. It was an emergency. Your roommate's life was at stake," came the reassuring reply.
"I will make it up to you some way. I swear."
"That's okay. You take care," said Emma, dropping the call.
Jake nervously walked to and fro. His pulse was racing and his blood was cold with fear. She meant more to him than he wanted to admit.
It was an aeon later that the doctor came to the waiting room with news.
"She's stable now. We had to use several units of blood transfusion. You can go talk to her."
He entered the ward gingerly. Katrina was facing the wall with a strange disengaged look in her eye. He tentatively walked to her bedside and sat down.
"Why am I like this?"
There was the hint of a few tears under her eyes. The withdrawal from her extreme mood coupled with her near-death experience had her depressed. In intervals like this, she would analyse her whole life and reflect on all her bad decisions.
Picking Jake as a roommate was about her only good one.
He sat by her bed, putting on his best look of calm reassurance. It was poor succour for her, but he did it anyway.
"Tell me. Why am I like this?" she said, her eyes tearing up.
"You're beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"Aww. Look at you- making up crap for me. You are a godsend, Jake. If only...." she said, biting her lip expectantly. The uncomfortable silence lengthened as Jake looked away, lowering his gaze, and Katrina knew that he had heard the words she had not spoken aloud.
"We've been over this," he said, in a sombre tone. "It's a bad idea."
"Why?" she said, a desperate earnestness in her tone. "You are the perfect guy for me."
"I know you mean it," he said, stroking her hairline, "and I know that you want to with all your heart. I've said this before and I'll say it again. It wouldn't work."
"Why not?" she screamed indignantly. The nurse poked her head in to see if everything was all right.
"You know what would happen. We would be together. I would be too boring for you. We would not click the way you want. You would try to be faithful to me, I know you would. But then the temptation would be too great and you would sleep with someone else who matched your wavelength. Then you would come crying to me and beg for forgiveness. I would probably forgive you, but you would not be able to forgive yourself. The guilt would make you go on one of your famous benders and once more, I would be the one picking up the pieces."
He paused to let her digest his words before continuing.
"I'm sorry, Kat, but we are who we are. You will always be who you are and I will always love you for it. Just not the way you want me to."
"Why do you have to be so right?" she said, breaking down in tears. He wiped some of them away, comforting her some more.
"C'mon now. Sit up. Your food has arrived. I'll feed it to you."
Katrina sat up gingerly while he took a spoonful of the distasteful hospital food and put it in her mouth.
"This thing tastes like pubic hair."
"You would know," he chuckled.
He gave her another spoonful. She let her hand wander on his neck, stroking it.
"You know you can have me any time you want. Any time, any place, anything. No limits," she said, knowing fully well he would not take her up on her offer.
"I'll keep that in mind," said Jake, pushing another spoonful past her lips. "I'm dating now. Remember?"
"Oh yes!" exclaimed Katrina, "How was your date?"
"Interrupted, but I would say it was going well."
"Oh God! I'm so sorry for getting in the way."
"Don't worry," Jake said, kissing her forehead.
"Have you spoken to Emma since?"
"As a matter of fact, we spoke before I came into the ward. She seemed impressed by my feat. I'm a hero now."
"She said that?" said Katrina, her eyes going wide.
"In not so many words, but I got the meaning," said Jake, a faint trace of pride on his tone.
"Look at you. All popular with the ladies," squealed Kat. "Cash in on this and get another date with her NOW!!"
"Hold on, Cupid-ess. I still have to get you up and running."
"Don't worry about me," she shot back, "I'm a big girl who can take care of herself."
"I see that," he said sarcastically, "now will you make me one promise. Just one."
"Anything."
"Will you please take your meds from now on? Otherwise you will hurt yourself again... and again," implored Jake. "And I might not get there in time next time."
She looked deep into his eyes. They held more love and support for her than she would ever know.
"I will. I promise," she said quietly. They hugged. His arms was the one place she felt serene and secure. They held each other for a few minutes.
"Okay," he said, disengaging himself from her arms, "Gotta call the carpenter. Our apartment needs some fixing. Now, you're covering my half of the rent this month, right?"
She nodded. Her art was ready.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I am sure. The gallery opening should rake in enough money."
"Great then. I'll start on getting the place fixed. You get better, okay?"
Saying this, Jake pecked her on the cheek and left, oblivious to the wetness between her legs. Katrina was desperately aroused each time she saw him, but stifled her feelings.
"I can't love him. I can only hurt him," played again and again in her mind. She was not going to hurt him.
* *
Jake Gallagher was confused.
In front of him was a canvas with an unusual spread of colours. A red swathe went across the centre, splitting it in half. The top half had a thick blue line bordering it, enclosing several awkward shapes. The bottom half was symmetrically drawn, keeping the red line as a mirror.
"Like it?"
The sudden shrill voice in his ear made him jump. He turned to his right to see a beaming Katrina. He was surrounded by a crowd at the Lincoln Centre gallery. Some of them made intelligent remarks about the art and Jake stared at it contemplatively, pretending to understand something.
"It's... hmm... very...." he struggled to find an adjective.
"You don't have a clue about modern art, do you?"
"Not even a bit."
"There is really not all that much to understand. The red line represents you, the good and the bad. The shapes show the darker and lighter sides of a self. They are opposite, yet ambiguous because the concept of good and evil is subjective."
"That all flew way over my head," said Jake. "How is the exhibition going?"
"Oh it's coming along well enough. I'm expecting some well known critics to come along and appraise it for the buyers."
