square_the_circle_chapter_13_ crOwl scott had no idea where he was and so he drove clueless through the nearly empty streets of reno at dawn, trying to find someone who could rescue him. he hated headaches. for him they usually came after a night of debauchery and were always the measurement of the trespass against the soul. he didn't even try to assemble the events and persons that lead up to the place where he fell asleep sexed up and wasted and then woke delirious and full of guilt. it only made the temple pounding increase. all he could grasp from the air breaking up about him was the maze of exclusive tract homes, adobe copies that failed to capture the true essence of the "old west" architecture. they rose up against him like formidable enemies, daring him to travel within their network of borders for when he turned down streets like camino real and las posas they would dead end in cul de sacs, leaving him further confused and bewidered. "i'm so fucking lost!" scott said, banging the leather steering wheel of mr. dupont's range rover. even before the anger exploded out of his mouth he knew he was trapped in a metaphor of his own life. a stranger holding a burning map, a hamster stepping into the wheel. round and round. going nowhere. we all hate what we become, he thought. i don't even know what i am moving towards or what is even propelling me to go forward. all the lines of communication between what i know and what i want have been cut in two. all he wanted to do was fall into kayla's arms, but he couldn't even remember the name of the street where the duponts lived. he popped the button on the glove box and scrambled about through the mess of receipts and ticket stubs until he found the automobile registration and insurance booklet. he found the address and turned around, heading back to where he hoped was a main road. a middle-aged man wearing bright red pumas and walking his rhodesian ridgeback gave him directions. he felt his headache loosening. ten minutes later he pulled into the dupont's driveway. scott found kayla's note after yelling her name several times and checking every room in the house. he dialed the number and listened to its lonely, desperate ring. it was the sound of his longing. 050317 ... unhinged by the time kayla got to the hospital, tim was sleeping in a heavy haze of sedatives and painkillers. his face was busted and swollen so grotesquely that the only reason kayla recognized him was because of the mop of curly black hair. some of the deeper cuts on his face were already stitched up and his lower torso was bound with bandages and gauze. kayla began to shake as she stood and surveyed the damage; did tim pick a fight with someone because he had nothing better to do? was he that pissed about her and scott? her blame reflex solidly pointed the finger at how she had rejected tim and tears welled to her eyes. she pulled up a seat to the hospital bed and grabbed his hand. there weren't any cuts or bruises on his hands. a nurse entered his little cubicle to change whatever was dripping out of the bag attached to the i.v. stand. 'oh hello miss. are you related to mr. readle?' 'ummmm....no. we both just moved here. he doesn't have any family here. is he going to be okay?' the nurse gave kayla a dubious glance from above as she changed the i.v. 'well, i shouldn't be telling you anything about mr. readle's condition if you aren't related to him, but if he doesn't have any family...fortunately i don't think he needs any surgery, but he does have a few broken bones and probably will end up with more than a few scars on his face. the plastic surgeon wasn't available for his stitches and some of the cuts were rather deep.' the nurse patted kayla on the shoulder and walked away. who the hell did this to him and why? kayla shook her head and wiped away the tears with her idle hand. she needed a valium and a cigarette. she opened her purse and noticed her phone. it had lain silent on the bottom of her purse for the entire trip but she needed to turn it on so scott could get ahold of her. she flipped up the top and pressed the on button. a message flashed across the screen 'voicemail box full.' she checked her call history and three numbers came up under missed calls. her parents, sammy, and her best friend macey. part of her itched to hear what sammy had to say and the other part of her started to feel ill at the thought of his voice. she decided to leave the voicemail unchecked until they got back to the dupont's house. the nurse came back to tell her they had to move tim to another ward for observation for at least another day. kayla wandered outside the emergency room and had a cigarette and then negotiated her way to tim's new room where she fell asleep holding his hand. she woke up to the phone ringing. her eyes opened groggily to see tim's swollen slits staring at her. his hand felt like a warm stone in hers and she anxiously dropped it to dig through her purse for her phone. she just missed the call and promptly hit redial. 'scott...yeah. i don't know what happened but he got the shit kicked out of him. i guess he doesn't need surgery. they won't tell me much. where are you? ....it's dawn already. you just got home?....well we are at memorial hospital ward o room 215. ok, see you soon.' 050319 ... crOwl scott flattened the wild spots in his hair and pushed through the double glass entrance doors of the reno memorial hospital and stopped at the information desk, which for the moment was vacant. he smelled something like a mix of lysol and funeral flowers. the distant sound of muffled dialogue filtered in from a waiting room wall televsion. as he leaned up against the desk he noticed art prints on the wall probably purchased at target and next to a large screen monitor, white keyboard, and a cleverly designed chair, there was some random fact sheets about the side effects of plavix and a copy of usa today. its front page featured a convicted sex offender who failed to report his new address in florida and ended up abducting a nine year-old girl from her sleep, raped her, and then murdered her. sick fuck, scott thought scanning the horrid details of the harrowing reality. he impatiently drummed his fingers on the fiberglass countertop and then looked around for help. on a small table with two chairs and a lamp, he saw a ceramic easter bunny and a clutch of plastic colored eggs sitting on a nest of artificial grass. scott closed his eyes. they burned with tiredness, guilt, and the confusion of what he was doing with his life. his headache was all but gone, chased off by the thrill of speaking with kayla on the fone. although the news of tim's attack and subsequent injuries were deeply disturbing, he was excited that kayla had left him the message. i do mean something to her, scott thought. she does need me. that's all he wanted. to have someone want him to be there. the events of the previous night were buried along with the former pounding pain of his temples. she doesn't need to know about those girls, scott reasoned. i slipped. i fell. she's pulled me back up again. an older woman with shoulder length grey hair sprinkled with bits of white and pulled back in a tight pony tail appeared from a white door nearly indistinguishable from the wall. she was wearing wire-rimmed half-glasses that rested on the bottom of her nose to help her read. she laid a manila patient folder down and apologized. scott looked down and smiled without showing his teeth. "how can i help you?" she asked. she must have had a mint in her mouth for the air surrounding them filled with peppermint. "i'm looking for tim readle," scott announced. in his excitement and nervousness of talking with kayla he forgot the ward and room numbers. he could almost taste the sweetness. "one moment, please." the woman said, clicking away at the keys. scott watched the blue light of the screen illuminate her face and he couldn't help but think of his ex-girlfriend paige's mother back in williamsburg. she could quote henry james and played cello in the brooklyn symphony. she made killer portabello risotto and grew italian sky geraniums in terracotta pots that bloomed on her window sills in january. "they moved him," she said, peering over her glasses to look scott in the eye. he stared out hauntedly from the deep recesses of his unshaven face and couldn't believe the resemblance and got a sudden, unexpected wave of nostalgia. paige's mother was always shoving money in scott's hands when he came over to take paige out. she often sat down with them at the dining room table on a sunday morning to pour over the ny times. she loved to see how many books she had already read in the books review section. "he's in the o ward, room 215." she said, grabbing a pen and writing it down on a yellow post-it. she tore it off and extended it to scott. "could you please tell me where to go?" scott asked, taking the paper. he remembered how easy it was to get lost in a hospital from previous experience, wandering long hallways on wrong floors, too proud to ask for directions. "sure," she said, smiling. she took her glasses off. they hung against her turtleneck sweater from a beaded string. she pointed to the left. "take the tower elevator to the second floor. go right to the end of the corridor. make a left into the o ward. go left again about halfway down." "thank you," scott said, heading to the elevator. he pressed two and waited, thinking of paige and the night they went to see her mother's solo at a presbyterian chapel in queens. how tight paige held his hand. how breathless he was to be in the audience. the doors opened. gazing at his shoes, he stepped on. he looked up. there was kayla. "scott!" "kayla!" 050321 ... unhinged she walked up to him and put her head in his chest without even waiting for him to extend his arms. she didn't want to know where he'd been; she had a sinking feeling that it was bad. scott wrapped his arms around her and they stood in front of the elevator until a stuffy old woman in a suit brought them back down to earth: 'excuse me.' the contempt in her wavering voice snapped kayla back to reality and she looked with one eye at the lady as she got on the elevator and scott led her to a less obtrusive bench a few feet away. 'i'm glad you are here. i was about to go check my voicemail.' she wouldn't look at him and swung her feet until the heel of her tennis shoe caught on the linoleum and squeaked. 'kayla...i' 'no. i don't want to know about last night. i asked for it whatever 'it' was. a lot of karma came back to bite me in the ass yesterday. and i turned on my phone...'scott reached up to hold her face in his hand and when he looked in her eyes he saw a dark shadow hanging in them. 'and...?' 'he called; i probably have like fifty messages on my voicemail from him.' she gently took his hand away from her face and set it on her lap. when she looked down the hallway in the opposite direction, she saw a team of doctors and nurses rush into a room down the hall. 'i need to take care of that scott.' 'i know.' kayla stood up and grabbed scott's hand. 'maybe tim's talking now. they had him so drugged up...let's go see.' they got off the elevator and she led him by the hand to the ward and the room. she stopped him outside of the door 'he looks really bad.' scott couldn't help it; as they crossed the threshold of the room he audibly sucked in a big breath. kayla wasn't shitting him that was for sure. the only recognizable feature of tim's face was his mop of curly dark hair. he had stitches in his lower lip and both eyebrows. his nose was swollen and bruised a deep purple. the swelling of his nose made it difficult for him to open his eyes, but they were open in little slits. the corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he tried to raise his right arm to wave. he groaned loudly and mumbled a few unintelligble words. kayla quickly stepped up next to the bed and grabbed his hand. 'dude, sssshhhh. you are one fucked up fuck. just sssshhhh. if the nurse comes in here and thinks we are harassing you she's gonna kick us out.' kayla could feel him squeeze her hand and he was uncomfortably staring at her again. scott stood in the doorway scratching his head nervously. his stomach turned over in protest of the sight of tim in combination with the fact that it was empty and hungover. who the fuck did that to tim? the three of them didn't know anybody here. tim's drunk ass probably went out and picked a fight just like his drunk ass went out and picked up a couple of chicks for the night. scott watched kayla quietly talking to tim and shook his head. they certainly were a strange band of misfits, the three of them together. kayla looked over her shoulder at scott, let go of tim's hand and walked over to him. 'yeah, yesterday after you left eric came by again. i found a gun in the house...' 'kayla, what the fuck?!' kayla dragged him out in the hallway. 'ssshhhh, seriously; the nurse will kick us out of here. nothing happened because the cops showed up to tell me about tim. but i don't think any of us should be alone after yesterday.' 'i'm sorry but i need some food. after seeing his bashed face, i'm gonna puke if i don't get some food.' 'yeah, you look like hell. rough night?' she playfully elbowed him in the stomach just a little too hard and he winced and put his hand to his mouth. 'come on. we'll go to the cafeteria.' 050323 ... crOwl scott and kayla followed the ceiling signs leading to the cafeteria, passing a hodgepodge of people; doctors, nurses, patients, visitors, maintenance men, candy stripers, ladies auxiliary, all of them in the hurried or casual state of coming to or going from lunch. there was a strong smell of hot food in the air and it was achieving the opposite for scott in contrast to what he hoped. saliva kept backing up in his throat and he was forced to swallow it. his eyes nervously searched for a men's restroom in case he was forced to duck into it and puke. he held kayla's hand and gripped it hard with desperation each time he winced down a mouthful. she felt his struggle and looked over at him as they entered the florescent-lit dining hall. scott felt her eyes like a tsoothing touch, a cool cloth against the fever of his self condemantion. her thoughtful air of concern was the only thing that kept him moving forwards. a row of philodendrons, their shiny, green leaves trailing out of fiberglass boxes hung halfway to the floor. bulletin boards announced the nurse of the week and posters proclaimed sunday's easter egg hunt in the memorial courtyard. scott noticed a burn victim in a wheelchair with white gauze around his arms and legs being spoonfed by a woman with stringy hair and a wife-beater shirt. scrambled eggs lay in a small pile on his lap. scott paused, closed his eyes against a sudden wave of nausea and then kept walking. "are you going to make it?" she asked, nervously giggling. she stopped beside two empty seats and a table with a small vase of tulips, near a blanched wall where a large, framed norman rockwell print of a young boy receiving a shot from a physician hung slightly askew. "yeah," scott said, letting go of kayla's hand. he ran his fingers across his unshaven chin. "i just can't shake the sight of tim's smashed up face," he said, twisting his own into a grimace. "go get yourself some lunch. you'll feel better, i promise." she said, stepping up to him, the softness of her body pressing firmly against his. he smelled a flowery fragrance in her hair that he remembered from the many nights they slept entwined. she kissed him then, light as a butterfly on his cheek. somehow that simple act of gracious affection amazed him and he felt a burst of tears stinging his eyes. he reached for her and as the clamor of voices and silverware scraping against plates drowned the sound of his choking sob, he hugged her, only for a brief second, but it was enough to wash him clean of the guilt that was covering him like the raw sewage of his selfish propensity. paige was never able to accept him for who he was. her agenda never included forgiveness. scott let go and stood back a foot from kayla. she saw his swollen eyes and stared at him with fragile compassion, a gaze that burned a permanent image in his memory. "can i get you anything?" he asked. one small tear leaked from his left eye and he turned away and quickly stopped it. "no," she said. "i ate earlier. i'll wait for you." "ok," scott said. he shoved both hands in his pockets and headed towards the long line of hungry people. his nausea was gone. he was in love. kayla sat down and dug her cellfone out of her purse. she sighed at the major task of dealing with sammy's long list of messages. her eyebrows lifted with disbelief. the screen read new message. she retrieved it. the number was local reno and seemed vaguely familiar, as if she'd seen it before or heard it from someone important. she pressed a button and a voice, sickly recent in her eerie experience began. her breath caught in her throat like a rat in a trap. it was eric. "hello sweet kayla. surprised it's me? don't worry darling. i don't want to hurt you. it's just that i can't stop thinking of you." there was a brief pause and she heard the pop of a screw-off cap, followed by a creepy, gulping, hiss. "those creamy white thighs, the quick flash of your panties, your breasts nearly spilling out of the robe." his voice was slurred and punctuated with heavy, wet breathing. he uttered a short, raspy, guttural laugh. "listen to what you do to me, my lovely. you've turned me into a poet." she heard him swallow and then a thud that sounded like the hard glass of a bottle against a tabletop. "i will see you again, you know. and this time the fucking police won't stop us. you can wear the robe and i'll take it off you." she could hear the liquid pouring into his throat and the puckered sound of his swallowing. "see you soon." kayla's face was searing hot. her pulse was galloping. "end of message," her fone voice said. how did that fucker get my number? she thought. she squuezed the little fone as if she could force out the answer. she racked her brain and finally remembered the note she left for scott. eric must have snuck in and found it. fuck! she screamed to herself. 050325 ... unhinged as soon as the thought of how eric got her number passed through her brain another familiar male voice fillled her ears. her heart flopped over in a sickened sort of way and shortly after so did her stomach. the color that eric had brought to kayla's cheeks quickly drained. she couldn't concentrate on the words, but only his voice; the voice that had whispered into her ear so many times while he held her and petted her long hair. sammy always used to tell her how beautiful her hair was. sammy and kayla had curled up that way in some pretty strange places including the floor of the woman's bathroom in a bar that she drank too much in after she took one of the many pills he brought her. she could have died that night on the bathroom floor as he petted her. as sammy's voice rattled through her brain, kayla realized that she had locked herself in a lot more bathrooms with sammy than anyone else. the only reason she had locked herself in a bathroom since she left was because of sammy. she quickly started to erase the messages without listening to them until one frantic message caught her ear: 'kay...come on kay. you alive? i miss you so much. my life sucks without you. just come home. why don't you just come home baby? could you at least just call me so i know that you are alive or whatever? i'm sorry for not coming to the bus station. i couldn't watch you leave. i love you kayla. more than i've ever loved anyone in my life.' kayla's fingers went numb squeezing the phone. she didn't realize she had stopped breathing until her lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen. she could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate and put her head between her knees. suddenly, she started gulping in air in big gasping breaths. when she was breathing again, she shut her phone to turn it off. as she sat there sammy's last few words echoed in her head: 'i love you kayla. more than i've ever loved anyone in my life.' anger started to well up in the pit of her stomach. loved her....loved her, what a fucking liar. he loved her disease because it made her codependent. he loved the way she swallowed and smoked drugs because it made him look like an occasional partier in comparison. he loved the way she fucked him when she was beyond trashed. he loved the way she cooked him dinner and bought him things because of all the drugs he stole for her. he didn't love HER...just the things he got from her. rashly, kayla flipped open her phone and dialed sammy. he picked up on the second ring. 'kay...' 'don't say another word to me. i'm alive. i don't ever want to speak to you again. have a nice life you piece of shit.' she hung up before she could hear another second of sammy's voice. she drew her legs up to her chest and rested her feet on the seat. laying her cheek on her lap, she started to cry. it took kayla an especially long time to let go of things. but, having scott made her realize she didn't deserve anymore shit from sammy. with the thought of scott bolstering her resolve, she sat up and wiped the tears from her face and reached into her purse. she opened the phone and turned it off because she was sure sammy would try to call back at some point. as she put her phone back in her purse, kayla saw the assortment of pill bottles. between sammy and tim, she needed something. just a little something. she pulled out the xanax and the tylenol 3 and emptied one of each into her hand. after slinging her purse back over her shoulder, she walked the twenty feet down the hallway to the nearest water fountain and quickly swallowed the pills. about twenty minutes later, she noticed scott coming at her but he seemed to be moving in slow motion. when scott walked up to her, he noticed her pupils were as big as plates. 050325 ... crOwl square_the_circle_chapter_14_ 050326 ... a must read red blathe . 050807 what's it to you? who go blather from