Red Leaves

Kristina moved closer to the mirror; her face was almost touching the cool smooth surface. There was something stuck near her right temple, above the eye. Kristina lifted her hand to touch it. It was a piece of safety glass. It was not a big piece, Kristina thought, trying to comfort herself as she pried the glass from her skin. The empty bloody gash the glass left behind was scarier than having the glass in her head.

Kristina went to have a shower after taking another sip of Southern Comfort. Her hand holding the bottle was steady.

The hot water felt wonderful on her aching body but miserable on her shoulder, so she turned it off. Washing under cold water felt only marginally better. Every once in a while she would try to move her left arm and wince from the pain. But she didn’t feel like screaming, Kristina told herself. It wasn’t that bad.

When she was trying to dry herself, another student, Jill, entered the shower rooms. They nodded to each other, and Kristina continued to pat her body. Jill looked over at Kristina and stared.

‘Hey, what happened to you?’ she said.

‘Nothing, why?’ Kristina said quickly. Rather, she tried to say it quickly, but the words came out dead slow, methodical and precise. It was more like Nooo-thinnnn-ggg. Whyyyyyy? Alcohol always made Kristina walk and talk slow but think she was walking and talking fast.

‘I don’t know,’ Jill said. ‘You look… terrible. You need help or something?’

‘Thanks, but you know, I just gotta get to my room, and I’ll be all right. Really,’ she said, staring into Jill’s disbelieving eyes. ‘Honestly.’

‘What happened to you?’ Jill repeated. ‘Did you get hurt at a game or something?’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ said Kristina. ‘That Cornell, they’ll do anything to win.’

Jill smiled thinly, helped Kristina dry her back, and then went and got her a bucket of ice and carried it to Kristina’s door.

* * *

When Kristina opened the door to her room, Aristotle greeted her. Albert was sitting on her bed, looking at her accusingly. Is that really accusingly? she thought, trying to get a better look at his expression. What did I do now?

‘God, what the hell happened to you?’ he said, getting up and walking over to her.

Kristina pondered his question as she put down the ice bucket and threw the towel off her body. Albert was in a bad mood. His tone was inflammatory, not distressed.

She didn’t reply. He’s mad at me. He doesn’t realize I almost died. Kristina decided to tell him.

Albert’s tone softened. ‘What happened, Rock?’ he said, standing up and coming close to her. His fierce-tender way of looking at her usually made her crazy. This time it nearly made her cry.

‘What are you upset about, Albert?’ Kristina asked quietly, putting three ice cubes on her shoulder.

‘Everybody’s been waiting for you for two hours. You said you were coming back at six.’

‘I don’t know if you noticed,’ she said slowly, rubbing the ice over her arm, ‘but I’ve been hurt. My car was totaled.’

‘I didn’t know your car was totaled.’

‘No, how could you?’ said Kristina tearfully.

Kristina sat nude in front of him. He looked at her breasts and then at the big black bruise on her side. The expression in his eyes made her feel better.

‘Look at you,’ he said in a throaty voice, coming closer to her. ‘You look so - what is that?’

She rubbed her side with the ice. That’s nothing, she thought, and said so.

‘God, what happened to your face? And your shoulder? It’s bleeding.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing. It’s not bleeding,’ she said, not even wanting to look at it. ‘It’s just… discolored.’ Then, ‘It could be worse, you know.’

‘I don’t see how. How?’

‘I could be dead.’ Should be dead, she thought, and stood up.

‘You’ve been drinking.’

‘Not then.’ Kristina thought he meant she was drinking and driving, but then he didn’t even know what had happened to her.

‘Not then, when?’

‘Just now. I drank a little now. To take the edge off.’

‘The edge off what?’

‘The edge off the pain.’

‘What happened to you?’

‘My car turned over.’

‘God, how?’

‘An oncoming car hit me.’

‘Hit you? Where?’

‘On the side of the Mustang.’

Albert stared at her perplexed. ‘No. I mean, where?’

‘Route Ten.’

‘It swerved into your lane?’

She vaguely remembered the other car’s headlights, being caught in them, trying to avoid them.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I swerved into his.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? I don’t know,’ Kristina said slowly. ‘It seemed like a good idea?’

‘Kristina!’

‘He seemed really close.’