All Life Demons

The last two days have been the most productive I’ve been in the last week. Yesterday I took the garbage out, cleaned the bathroom, dusted, mopped, and cleaned and cleaned out the apartment from floor-to-ceiling anything dirty or old or useless. Early this morning before work I threw a load of laundry into the washer and emptied and refilled and ran the dishwasher. So I’ve been bitten by the spring-cleaning bug, so what?

That brings us to right here, right now. Stuck in rush hour traffic on a Monday night, just wanting to get home and sit down to a nice hot meal like every other person behind, in front of, and next to me. Usually my commute to and from the office is only a forty-five minute drive, but there must be some kind of accident or jam-up or some other hold-up today because I’m now only halfway home and I’ve spent almost an hour and a half on the highway.

By the time I finally pull into the parking lot about half a block away from my apartment complex, it is going on eight o’clock. Usually I am home before seven. The structure itself is a large brick building twelve stories high. I live on the fifth floor.

Getting out of my car and hitting the automatic ‘off’ button, I shuffled along the sidewalk as my stomach grumbled. Not exactly looking forward to the leftover spaghetti and meat sauce from last night, I lazily kicked a small rock into the building’s adjacent alley but backpedaled when it stopped suddenly with a loud “Oomph…owww!”

My blood ran cold as it pumped through my veins. Quickly glancing over my shoulder, a relieved sigh escapes my throat as I see the sun has not fully gone down yet. Just in case, I grabbed a large stick lying haphazardly on the ground, debris from the bad wind and rain the other night, and clutched it tight to my body. If it’s a psycho or a serial killer, or anyone for that matter, back there, nothing says back off more than having someone attempt to poke your eye out with a stick.

A sudden chill then blew along my back, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. I wrapped my fingers around the branch like my life depended on it. Once at the end of the alley, I rested my back against the cool bricks of the building. Just peeking my head around the corner, I could barely make out the silhouette of something or something moving around in the garden.

At the back of the building complex, through the alley, us neighbors all gathered together one weekend and created a beautiful garden for us all to enjoy. The garden was separated into two large planter boxes. One box was for ornamental and decorative flowers, and the other was for vegetables. Nothing beats having a tomato, cucumber, and green bean salad that I don’t have to pay for.

I inched a little bit further to get a better look, my back still hugging the wall, when a blinding light came on out of nowhere. Squeezing my eyes tight and covering them with my free arm, I crouched down back behind the wall. Even with them protected though, my vision was completely gone except for a wall of bright white light. So much for a surprise attack. Damn flood lights.

Holding on to the branch still, I slowly backed away to give my eyes time to adjust.

“Somebody help me…” a man’s voice called out of somewhere. Silhouette man, I presume?

“Are you hurt?” I asked into the growing darkness.

“Ummm…I’m a little bruised and bumped and scratched up, but nothing serious. Not sure where I am, though.”

Not sure where he is? Terrific with a capital T. Ten bucks he’s just a local drunkard who wandered over here. Just when I was looking forward to that leftover spaghetti.

Throwing the stick away, I walked out over to the garden to get a good look at him. Upon fully seeing him in the false light, the drunken theory suddenly seemed to be pretty valid. When you’re wearing nothing but a toga-looking thing, what other conclusions can you draw, especially since it was nowhere near Halloween?

“Can you stand up?” I asked, extending my hand out.

“Sure,” he responded, accepting the offer. As soon as I gripped his hand to pull him up, he hissed in pain.

“What hurts?” I asked, trying to find the best position in which to support him in order to quickly and safely get him inside the building.

“My…my shoulders and my back,” he winced.

Moving my hands down around his waist instead, we slowly walked around to the front of the building and inside the main lobby. Thank goodness the elderly man at the security desk was temporarily distracted by something he dropped on the floor because I did not want to have to explain to him what was going on went I was not even all that sure myself. Honestly though, as a security guard, what use would a near 80-year old do in an extreme emergency? He wasn’t exactly as quick or as spry as he used to be.

Both of us stumbling into the elevator, I hit the number ‘5’ button and waited patiently for it to arrive there as I felt the floor move up underneath us. With a sudden halt of the elevator and a soft ‘ding’ the door opened and we moved out. Faltering a little to the left, the stranger and I traveled down the long, pale-blue-carpeted corridor until we came to my room on the right-hand side, 57B.

While he leaned carefully against the wall, I dug through my purse for my key. Once opened, I guided him over to my ugly beige-colored couch. Nothing personal against the color, but it was the only piece of furniture in view that did not fit the décor of the rest of my apartment. Being a huge fan of blue, the place was decorated in all different shades and patterns of that color. Unfortunately though, when it came to finding the perfect blue-colored couch for that wall, I could find nothing that was in my price range. It was a hand-me-down from my parents. The ugly beige couch would have to stay until I either found a blue one, or just declared defeat and bought a blue slip-cover instead. Choices, choices; decisions, decisions.

It wasn’t until I turned on enough lighting in the place that I finally got a good look at the stranger I brought up. Honey-golden eyes, light-brown or very dirty blonde (depending on the lighting), very tall (compared to me, anyway) and lanky. The white cloth he wore was splotched with dirt and mud and grass stains. The rest of his body was a colorful canvas of blue-and-black-and-purple bruises and pink scrapes and scratches. I’m sure he ached worse than he looked. You could almost see the pain, and still a bit of confusion and uncertainty, behind those beautiful eyes of his.

“Ummm…excuse me, but what are you doing?”

I immediately snapped out of a daze at the sound of his voice only to realize that I had been staring into those golden orbs of his much longer than I should have. Trying to hide my reddened cheeks, I instantly stood up and walked over to the kitchen area.

“Sorry…sorry,” I spoke, still a bit flustered. “Forgive me for being a rude host. Would you like something to drink? I haven’t gone food shopping yet, so your only choices are iced tea, milk, or tap water.”

“Iced tea, please?” he replied while I rummaged through a cupboard for a pair of drinking glasses.

Handing him his glass, he more than graciously accepted.

“It’s not often that I invite complete strangers up into my apartment,” I admitted to him, looking down into my now empty glass.

“I beg extreme pardon if I’ve intruded on any of your plans for this evening,” he apologized, those powerful orbs of his staring straight into my boring brown ones.

“Oh, ummm…it’s not problem, real-really it isn’t,” I stumbled over my words, not wanting to seem rude and look him in the eye, but not too long like he might try to mesmerize me or something.

“My name’s Michael, by the way,” he said after taking a final sip of his drink.

I’m Violet. Violet Cordell,” I looked up for a few seconds and smiled before becoming interested in my glass once more.

“Well, Violet Cordell, I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

I guess we’re not.