Ruby Red Marionette

twentythree | video

//: Yvette in the MM.

The rest of the night was not easy to endure. Almost all of Isaiah's efforts to distract me from what I'd wordlessly agreed to failed. He made us popcorn and turned on a 1960's movie about a court case, but I couldn't pay attention to society's warped image of justice decades ago. Not with images of Carlos' cold, lifeless eyes staring at me from across the table replacing the images on the television screen.

The movie finished, and Isaiah offered to turn on another, but I declined and said I wanted to go to bed early. I forced a yawn and dragged my feet as I walked away, but I could feel Isaiah's disappointment on the back of my neck. I did want to stay with him and watch movies like a regular roommate, but sitting next to him without speaking would put the same wide-eyed, sorrowful look on his face that he had now. I had to be alone.

In the bedroom, where the only light was the faint red glow coming from his digital alarm clock, I couldn't even sleep. I lay in his bed with my eyes closed, trying to imagine things that tired me - filling cups with water to bathe, sitting in classrooms, trying to have conversations with my mother as a child without business calls interrupting her - but I never grew tired. I finally decided that keeping my eyes open would exhaust me. All I saw in the dark when I opened my eyes were Carlos' eyes, peering at me like a wolf in the woods. I squeezed my eyes shut and never fell asleep.

~~~

In the morning, the warm scent of vanilla floated into the bedroom. At first it was faint, but over time I couldn't smell anything else - yet it gave the air a serene tenderness that almost made me want to smile.

I heard Isaiah wake up from the couch in the living room and go into the kitchen earlier, but that was about an hour ago before I eventually got some sleep. Now, I could still hear him in there, listening to music and singing along as he shuffled around the kitchen.

The alarm clock showed that today was December seventh, which meant that - contrary to the bland emptiness of our surroundings - it was holiday season. This, along with the fact that today was the day I was to go to the studio, reminded me why I should be depressed.

Every minute that passed after I looked at the date made my limbs feel heavier. The very thought of following the scent that seduced me through the small open space of the door tired me. So I let myself sink into my despair, and then I was sleeping again.

But the next time I woke up was because I smelled something different from the first time - gas.

I tossed the sheets off of me and ran out of the room, tripping over loose nails in the wood. By the time I reached the kitchen, my foot was bleeding, and the scene in front of me was far from the dead body and debris that I expected. Isaiah stood in the kitchen with an apron wrapped around him and oven mitts on his hands. He was spreading sprinkles on the source of the vanilla scent and nodding his head to Dirty South music - the scene wasn't one anyone would have expected.

I turned off his music, but he didn't stop nodding his head until I slammed my hands against the counter. He dropped the bag of sprinkles with a fright.

"Damnit, Geneva," He sucked his teeth and picked up the bag. "You're lucky I'm done." Then he noticed that he left one of the burners on the stove, and turned it off.

I looked at the tray again. "Are those vanilla cupcakes?"

Isaiah grinned now, as if proud that I'd noticed. "Yeah."

"So...you're baking at ten o'clock in the morning with an apron on while listening to UGK?"

Isaiah picked up one of the cupcakes and held it up for me. "Taste it."