Monochrome (13 page)

Abigail felt tears on her face as the image in the mirror disappeared. “They
are
better off without me. They’d be happy if I stayed here. Jason is wonderful with Ruby. He’s everything a baby needs: patient, kind and centered. You ruin them every time you crumble,” she told her red-eyed reflection. She twisted the tap back on and brought a handful of water to her face, the wet mingling with her desperate tears.

She peered into the mirror, waiting for the image to return, but saw only herself, as fraught and drawn as she felt inside. She scanned her red-rimmed eyes and put her hands to her mouth in shock.

A few black specks circled the green iris. Her shoulders hanging, she slogged out of the bathroom. She moved, dazed, to their table and sat down heavily. She reached for her glass and drank its entire contents, waiting for the blissful numb buzz.

Ishmael watched her from his seat, his knee shaking the liquid on the table and ringing the silverware Kora brought with the food. “Abby, you’re pale.” His knee stopped shaking as he leaned forward, reached across the table and tilted her face towards him, studying her eyes.

Abigail felt heavy with self-loathing, her memories settling on her shoulders like wet towels. She didn’t fight his touch. He let his hand fall away from her face as he stared, dismayed, into her changed eyes.

“No, Abby…” He took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Your eyes! I’m so sorry.”

She barely heard him; all she wanted right now was to forget. She motioned to the bar, waving for Kora’s attention.

Kora noticed and came to the table. “What is it? Not hungry?” She asked, indicating the uneaten food on both Ishmael’s and Abigail’s plates.

“I know it’s not great, but…” Kora stared Abigail in the face and stopped short. “Oh. I see…”

Abigail nodded and picked up her glass. “Another please.”

Kora frowned but grabbed her glass. “Sure thing.” When she spoke to Ishmael, she flung the words, “What about you?”

Abigail was surprised to hear aggression in Kora’s voice when she addressed Ishmael, who, instead of looking baffled, sat up straighter and stared, defiantly, back at Kora. “No. But put Abby’s on my tab.”

“If it’ll make you feel better about yourself,” Kora snorted. She rolled her eyes and stalked towards the bar, knocking purposefully into him on her way. He glared at her back for a second, but his anger soon faded into defeat.

“What’s that about? And why are you buying my drink? I have currency now.”

He held up a hand. “Believe me, it’s the least I can do.” She made to argue again, but he cut her off. “If you still don’t want me to buy it after I tell you what I promised to tell you, then you can buy it. Deal?”

“Deal. Are you going to tell me why Kora is so pissed off at you, too?”

“They go hand-in-hand.”

She frowned, leaned back in her seat and picked up her grilled cheese, which was either already cold or had grown cold in the time she’d been in the bathroom. She picked it up, took a bite, and immediately wished she hadn’t. It tasted like burned toast and chilled, cubed grease. She made a face, but chewed and swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Kora’s not much of a cook.”

He took a sip from his own glass and coughed. “No, but she makes a good drink.”

“Yeah. Strong.” Her head felt lighter after downing the drink, her body was becoming more relaxed. Ishmael picked up his sandwich and took a small bite, making a face as well.

“Well, we gotta eat something. Long way to go from here,” he muttered over his food. Abigail figured he was right and picked up her sandwich, too. She forced herself to take another bite and chew. At least the barely edible food might give her back some of the energy testing zapped.

Ishmael put his food down and took a sip of his drink. “You remember you promised not to leave, right?” Abigail assented with a nod, still chewing the rubbery sandwich. “Alright. Here it goes.”

He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his cigarette pack, taking out a cigarette and lighting it before speaking. “First, let me remind you you’re much different than my other Leads, okay? They didn’t make it, but they wouldn’t have with my help either.”

His face was clouded with a mixture of pain and guilt. “Most were angry they weren’t dead and, unlike you, they didn’t care whether they made it back or not.”

She didn’t say anything. Ismael was never going to feel okay about failing his other Leads, so what was there to say?

He blew smoke from the side of his mouth and continued. “Abby, I
know
you can make it out of here. I know you want to go home. You have to keep being positive, alright? I can tell you’re thinking about giving up. Your eyes tell me that. Don’t do it. Your husband loves you. He has to.”

She whirred around, fire in her eyes. “And how do you know that? You don’t know him! You don’t even know me, Ishmael. You don’t know what I’m like. How awful I’ve been…”

“Yes I do,” he cut in. “I know what memories haunt you.”

Abigail furrowed her eyebrows, confounded.

“I told you that I see the memories you give, but what I didn’t tell you is that I can see many of the ones you hang on to, too.” Ishmael fiddled with his hat, running his hand softly over the pin she’d gifted him. “I can see every memory you think of. Light or dark, I see them. It’s part of the job. I’m given the ability to see your memories. Not your thoughts,” he hurriedly explained, reading her shock. “Just memories currently distracting you. It’s my job to see those memories and use them.”

Her skin crawled, but she tried to retain a calm aspect. “So…just now in the bathroom. You know?”

Ishmael nodded.

Abigail’s voice faltered. “Then you know what I am, right? A shitty wife and a bad mom? If you can see my memories, you know that I’m right.”

“Memories are colored by the one experiencing them. I know he loves you and wants you home.”

She frowned in agitation. “How? After seeing how awful I am with them, how can you say that? Have you seen anything in my memories that suggests he should care for me?”

He continued to play with his pin. “Those memories aren’t
all
of you, just your fear, your depression, your anger. You are…” He cleared his throat, but raised his eyes to her. “Strong. Funny. Smart.” His lids dropped, as did his voice. “Passionate. Beautiful.”

He paused, searching for the right words. “I want nothing more than to get you back to where you belong. This place isn’t for you, Abby.” He leaned in towards her. “You’re alive. And you transfer life to everyone you meet.”

Abigail shook her head.

“You need proof?” He got up from his seat, knelt in front of her and wrapped his rough fingertips around her hands.

The beating in her ears almost drowned out his command. “Look at me.” His brown-green eyes held her in place. Unlike their first meeting, his eyes didn’t make her dizzy and uncomfortable. The difference, though, wasn’t entirely welcome.

She wanted to tell him how much what he’d just said meant to her, how much his faith in her meant, but, instead, she said, “You have very pretty eyes, Ishmael. Not creepy at all.”

He laughed, stood and put a hand on her head. “You too.”

He walked back to his seat. “Alright. Time to see if you really trust me. I’ve told you I see your strongest memories and am supposed to use them. What I haven’t told you yet is I’m not supposed to use them to help you.”

She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Just then Kora brought her drink to her. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Kora.”

Kora stalked away, ignoring Ishmael.

He motioned to Kora. “Kora knows what I’ve chosen to do and, today, she can see what it entails.”

Abigail felt like everything was getting more disorienting rather than less. “I don’t understand.”

Ishmael took a drag from his cigarette. “Yes you do. You just don’t want to, and I don’t want you to. But you’re smart. Think about it. Really think about it. Please don’t make me say it.”

She bit her thumbnail as she thought, a nervous habit. Kora wasn’t mad until after Abigail came back from the bathroom, after she was tested. Thinking about Kora made her think about the first bartender and his reluctance to let Ishmael pay for his own drinks with his own currency. She thought about what she saw the bartender say to Ishmael: “The girl makes it, you don’t.”

She thought about how Ishmael defended Geoff’s choice to become a Snake, saying it was simple survival. She recalled what he said about his boss warning him about being friends with her. She remembered the sting of his touch before she was faced with her worst memories.

The realization hit Abigail like she’d been punched in the stomach. Ishmael
made
her relive those terrible things. She didn’t want to believe him. He wasn’t like the Snakes and Traders, the bartender and clerk at the Hotel, just trying to get currency or memories no matter what. He couldn’t be. Then again, the only reason their friendship was a detriment to his job was if it wasn’t his job to befriend her, but to fail her.

Abigail moved her chair away from the table but felt too weak to stand. “You
gave
me those memories, like you tried to give me that dream. Only, it seems you’re better when it comes to bringing people down.” Ishmael’s drooping shoulders told her she was correct. “You…you lied to me. You said you were here to help me, to guide me, but you’re not. Are you?”

He leaned towards her, his voice quiet but pleading. “I told you there are no good decisions in this place. There are just variations of shitty decisions. It’s the same for the professions in Monochrome.”

His knee shook the glasses on the table. “A Snake gets paid to convince newcomers to stay in Monochrome, and to steal good memories from others. A Trader gets paid to trade the memories of their rapes and abuse. A Bartender gets paid to keep the people of Monochrome drunk and unmotivated. Clerks, Prostitutes…they’re all trying to cling to the last good memories they have, by trading their worst skills for the good memories of others. When good memories leave, darkness takes over. You’re left to roam this awful place until you die or kill yourself.”

Ishmael bit his lip and continued. “A Guide’s true job is not to get his or her Lead to the border. A Guide gets paid to encourage his or her Lead to stay, by reminding them why they left Reality in the first place. If a Lead makes it through Monochrome, a Guide has to give up a gold memory.”

Abigail moved her chair further from the table. “I trusted you…”

He broke in. “I know, Abby. I’m sorry I lied, but I have no intention of letting you stay here. I promise.”

“My name is
Abigail
. You
just
tested me. Just now. And you want me to believe you’re trying to help me? You purposefully hurt me only moments ago. The promises of a liar mean nothing to me.” She stood, knocking her drink over in the process.

He shook his head. “I have to play the part, Abby. My boss is watching me very closely after last night. He has spies everywhere. This is his house, and we are all here to serve him or die. When I came here, I was ready to die, but I’m a coward. I’m not as motivated to die right now as I was then.”

She grabbed her scarf and coat and headed to the front of the bar. She was trying to keep calm, show him his actions didn’t affect her, but her whole body was a tense mass of energy, and her brain fizzled with an irate buzz. She knew an explosion wasn’t far off, and she despised herself for it. She hated that her only reaction to difficulties was either to feel hopelessly lost or enraged.

She took a deep breath and faced the bartender, “What do I owe you, Kora?”

Kora seemed to understand what was going on and didn’t mince words. “A moon.”

Abigail placed one of the rocks Ishmael gave her on the bar, and headed for the door of the bar.

Ishmael picked up his hat and followed close behind her.

“Abigail!” It was Kora, not Ishmael who called her. “Don’t leave Ishmael. You don’t want to get lost here. You can’t make it out of here without him.”

Ishmael paid Kora and gave her an appreciative nod, which she ignored.

“Abby, you
promised
.” He begged her.

She crossed the floor to meet him and slapped him across the face, leaving a raised hand mark on his cheek. Tears filled his eyes, but didn’t fall. Uncertainty clenched her gut when she realized the tears weren’t from pain.

She spoke through clenched teeth, her anger palpable. “You’re not the only one who can break your word. Besides, I can’t make it out of here
with
you, either, not with you trying to sabotage me the whole way.”

Ishmael made to speak, but Abigail held up a trembling hand. “So I guess I’m choosing, as you say, the less shitty of two shitty choices. Being alone can’t be any worse than staying with someone who’s paid to help me fail.”

He stood firm, the red print on his cheek not fading. “I deserve that. But, please, please stay with me. I won’t fail you. I’m going to get you home, but it can’t seem like I’m helping you or we’ll be stopped.”

He surveyed the room and lowered his voice. “There are a lot of bad people out there. Let me help you, Abby.”

She guffawed. “Just like you helped your other Leads? How many of them have killed themselves, do you think? How many are Traders, Snakes or
Guides
?”

She spit the last word out. Ishmael stumbled back, as if she’d hit him again. Even in her rage, she was tortured by his pained expression, knowing she was the cause of it. She ran out of the bar before she was taken in by more of his lies.

Fortunately for Abigail, she wasn’t a smoker and had built up stamina from years of training. She let her long legs carry her away from the bar, her anger fueling her to a greater speed than she normally ran.

She didn’t know where to go, but she knew which way they were heading, so she ran through the town in the opposite direction from where she and Ishmael came. She ran past begging Roamers, brothels, Inns and various stumbling waves of humanity. She was having a difficult time running in boots and a dress, though.

She stopped, closed her eyes and pictured dressing for a marathon. Her tights transformed to spandex, her dress fell off into a tight fitting rayon sport shirt. She felt her scarf stay firmly in place, but everything else disappeared, back to the place of her memories.