Paint it Black
And here's the second chapter I finished today, which brings the novel back into the present.



The hollow feeling in my skull came from the fact that I had a hole in my head. At least, that’s what it felt like. The room around me wouldn’t stay still as I came to. I didn’t recognize my surroundings. In fact, as I struggled to think about it, I didn’t even recognize myself.

I touched my left hand to the bandages wrapped around my skull and found out that the head wound wasn’t my only injury. My hand was covered in scars, back and front. The center of my palm sported a deep circular bruise that reminded me of a rounded purple eyeball. I stared at the injury until the rest of the world stopped shaking around me. Then I reached into my pocket, searching for a wallet or some sort of identification. The longer I had to recover, the more I came to realize the troubling truth that I couldn’t remember my own name.

“Good. You’re up, finally.” The voice came from across the room and felt immediately comforting. The woman didn’t speak with a stern tone, but she had a distinctive air of authority. I titled my head to look at her. She would know what was going on.

“Do you remember me?” she asked.

I shook my head. She frowned.

“That was some knock to your head he gave you, then. Do you remember your own name?”

I started to shake my head again. “No.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I found you.”

She walked toward me, her heels leaving small indents in the stained carpet as she approached. Gingerly, I propped myself up on my elbows, trying to get a feel for my surroundings. I was alone with this woman in a hotel room, it seemed. She pulled a chair next to my bed. The small room had a television and mini-fridge, both of which had grown a thick layer of gray dust. On a small circular table near the wall lay a pair of wineglasses, one empty and the other broken, its scattered shards stained with red.

“Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

I closed my eyes. Horse-drawn carriages. A man suspended upside down over a tank of water. A woman with blood trickling down her cheek, breathing her last breath.

“Just dreams, I think.”

“Don’t worry, it will all come back to you. You got a pretty bad knock to the head, which probably scattered your memories a bit. It’s okay, though – I’m here to help.”

“But who are you?”

Her painted red lips drew into a terse smile. “My name is Robin. I’m your boss. Your name is Eddie Kafka. You work as an investigator for me.”

I touched my forehead. Whatever wound I had sustained seemed to have closed, but the bandages were crinkled with dried blood. “Shouldn’t I get to a hospital?”

“We can’t risk that. The man who attacked you is named Clint Stevens. He’s a very dangerous man, and he’ll be looking for us in a hospital. I used to be a combat medic, so I can take care of you for a while. At least until we find Mona.”

“Mona?”

“Do you remember her?”

Strawberries, cherries, and an angel’s kiss in spring…

“Does she have red hair?”

Robin’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, she does.”

An image flashed through my mind, but disappeared before I even got a chance to figure out what it was. “No, I don’t remember her.”

The corners of Robin’s lips drooped downward, but she didn’t allow any other signs of disappointment to show. “She’s someone very important to both of us. She was married to man who did this to you, but now she’s on the run. He threatened to kill her if she ever left him, and that’s exactly what he’ll do if he finds her.”

“How can I help her if I don’t know anything about her? How can I even know if I can trust you?”

She took my left hand in both of hers. I felt her fingernails touch against my bruise, but she didn’t press down hard enough to cause me pain. “Eddie, I’d love to walk you through everything right now, but we don’t have any time. Mona is already at least day away from us, and her husband has a head start on tracking her down. If you remember anything, please remember that you love her.”

I pulled away from her and stretched. Eddie…Eddie Kafka. That seemed familiar enough. Robin…a take-charge woman who could probably take those glasses off and turn into Superwoman. Whatever had happened, the throbbing in my head made it very apparent that I probably would have been dead if she hadn’t taken care of me. And Mona…Mona Stevens…

And I will give to you…

I glanced at the window, then shook my head. “I remember something…”

“You do?”

And I will give to you…

Summer wine.

“I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

“Yes. Yes you have. This is the last place we saw Mona.”

I pushed myself off the table and nearly fell to the floor. Robin caught me and helped me back to my feet. Stumbling over to the table, I touched the wine glasses – first the whole one, then the broken one. My hand slipped across the jagged edge of one of the shards, breaking skin and drawing a small amount of blood. I gave a hiss of pain and stuck my finger into my mouth.

“Be careful, Eddie. You’re not yourself yet.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve ever been myself,” I muttered. I pulled my finger out of my mouth and checked the cut. It had already stopped bleeding – probably a minor nick and nothing else. Still, I needed to clean it out. Whether Robin was telling the truth or not, I had taken enough damage and didn’t feel like abusing my body any more than I had to.

“Where are you going?” called Robin.

Ignoring her, I continued my march toward the open bathroom door. I turned on the sink, ran some water on the cut, then looked forward.

“What happened to the mirror?” I called out to Robin.

“Oh, that? It’s been like that for a while, I guess. Whatever joker had this hotel room before us covered the bathroom mirror in black paint. The hotel staff hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet, I guess.”

I scraped my fingernail against the black paint, peeling a sliver-sized strip off of the reflective glass underneath. Rubbing my thumb and index finger together to dust off the crumbs of dried paint, I turned around to look elsewhere.

The shower showed signs of use, though not recently. A thin layer of soap scum ran a ring across the plastic siding of the bathtub. I pushed aside the cheap curtain and pressed my injured forehead up against the wall.

Nothing. I remembered nothing. And if I couldn't remember anything, how could I trust Robin? Or even myself? How did I know that I needed to find this Mona person, and did she even want me to find her?

"I know you have your doubts, Eddie," said Robin, suddenly standing right next to me. I jumped as she appeared from behind the shroud of my concentration. "You've got to trust me on this, though. We don't have time to waste. Every hour we spend thinking and questioning is an hour she spends disappearing, and an hour that her husband spends getting closer to her."

"Why is she running away from her husband?"

"Simply put? He's abusive scum. He's an exec at a pharmaceuticals company who has made a small fortune out of stealing product and selling it on the streets. Vicodin and oxycodone sell for higher than cocaine these days. That's only one of his many sins. Mona got out while she could."

"If he's so dangerous, why not let her disappear? She could start a new life somewhere."

"He's a control freak. Who knows who he might send after her? More important than that, though, is what she means to you." She thrust a long finger into my chest. "You'll remember sooner than later, but if you hesitate now she'll be gone by the time you come to your senses."

"Even if I was sure I could trust you, how can I help when I can't remember thing one?"

"Memories are like matchsticks. You just need to find the right way to strike it and it lights up. This is the last place you saw her. Take a look around and see if anything clicks."

I gave a grunt and a nod, and then stepped out of the shower. The bandages on my head told me that Robin cared enough to keep me alive, at least. And maybe working toward a goal would help me make sense of the situation. Unfortunately, a search of the hotel room left me with next to nothing. A single black glove, the glasses of wine, and a deck of playing cards. The Holy Bible tucked into the sock drawer had the last few pages torn out, but I didn't know my scripture enough to guess what might have been missing. After half an hour of fruitless searching, I sat down at the table and started shuffling the cards absently. Robin sat on the bed hands folded and eyes fixed on the floor.

"Maybe it's time for me to check your bandages – make sure your head's going to heal up okay."

I shrugged my shoulders and flipped over four cards. Ace, King, Ace, Queen. Then I put those cards on top and shuffled through the deck before producing another four. Ace, King, Ace, Queen, again.

"How did you do that?" asked Robin.

I shrugged. "Trick shuffle. I guess I'm a card shark or something, huh?"

"I've never seen you play cards in your life."

I shuffled the cards again. A riffle and three cuts. Then I flipped the top cards face up. I got the exact same cards as before: two clubs, two spades. I repeated the motions I made to shuffle the deck, watching my hands as I worked. They seemed to have a mind of their own.

I glanced at the broken shards of glass on the table. A woman's eye looked back at me. Green, with a thin red eyebrow. I did a double take, but it was gone in an instant.

"This part's called a Zarrow shuffle," I said repeating the riffle. I cut the cards once at the end and flipped them face up. The deck order remained unchanged. "The cuts are just illusions. Do we know any card sharks or magicians?"

Robin shook her head. "I don't think so."

I stared at the queen of spades. She stared back. Someone's voice whispered in my ear – a woman, but not Robin. "The queen of spades represents Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and reason," said the voice. "Fits me pretty well, or so I like to think."

I put the cards back in order and tucked them away in their cardboard case. Then I stood up and slipped the cards into my pocket. Only then did I realize that my pants didn't quite fit me. My button-up white shirt also seemed a little long in the arms and was missing its top button. The details left my mind almost as soon as they entered.

"Are we close to New Jersey?"

"Depends on where in New Jersey you want to go."

"A city called Paterson."

"Do you remember something?"

"Not really, but there's something poking at the back of my brain."

"We can get there in about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, depending on traffic."

"Then let's go."

Robin got to the door first, but stopped before she opened it. She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "You're coming back, Eddie. I know you are." Then she turned and opened the door, leading me out of the Ligea Hotel.

Almost as soon as we left the building, a pigeon swooped toward us, nearly hitting Robin in the head. The bird collided with the brick wall of the hotel and fell to the sidewalk, white foam oozing out of its beak. Across the street, a woman in black smiled at me and scattered some more bird seed in front of her park bench. Robin grabbed me by the arm and strode forward, almost running with me as she led us to the car.