Lost Keys

by Adrian Herrara

The light from the street lamp flickered onto the pavement, every few seconds going out and temporarily leaving the street in complete darkness. There were only a few cars parked on the street leaving it empty and wide. A man stumbled out onto the sidewalk from a dark alley, which could be easily overlooked if it weren't for the lamp shining down in front of it. A car drove by, the headlights suddenly filling the dark. The man put his hand up to block the light. Still stumbling, he tripped over some uneven sidewalk and fell to the ground.

The leaves on the tree danced gently with the chilling wind. Fog was coming down from the skies, shrouding the fallen figure. The man crawled over to a tree and sat up against it. Shivering, he moved his long hair from his face and stared ahead when a pair a feet came into view. I'm missing a shoe, he thought to himself, great. A frown came upon the man’s face, “Goddamnit!” he yelled slamming a fist onto the cold pavement. Using the tree for support, he stood and began to limp down the street grumbling to himself. Coming to the steps of his apartment complex, he reached for his keys. The lock on the door would often get jammed and the man wiggled the key around till he got the door open. He closed the great heavy door and a familiar smell came to him, the smell of old rotting wood, cheap perfume, and marijuana. He cringed his nose, ascended the stairs slowly, turned left and walked to the end of the corridor, to his apartment.

He got the door open and slammed it shut, arms still pushing the door as if someone was trying to get in. “Next time,” he whispered, “next time.” The window was open and the wind blew throughout the room. He went over to the window and secured it shut. He stayed there looking out the window, the street was deserted. Gradually he realized he had no idea what time it was and looked up at the clock on the wall. 1:12. Damn, better get some sleep, he contemplated. He collapsed on to his couch and fell into a deep sleep.

“Please don't go! Don't leave me!” the man awoke with a sudden jolt. “Holy crap!” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and tears from his eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, “It was only a nightmare. Only a nightmare.” He sat up, alarmed, and looked around. A strange, sickening feeling came over him. His eyes darted towards the ceiling and to the floor. He laid back against the couch and took a deep breath. The couch had comfortable cushions and he seemed to melt into it. Without warning the room began to spin, the walls began to melt into the floor, the table began to grow, “Shit not again!” he yelled. He tried to get up, but instead he began sinking into the couch. He screamed and covered his eyes with his hands only to find sickly eyes looking back at him. He pulled his hands away and stared at them. The eyes in his palms blinked and rolled back. The arms of the couch were now far above him, but beyond them he could see the light of day. His body was trembling and his mind was falling apart. He felt his throat narrow and breathing became difficult. He felt the couch closing in on him, paralyzed with fear, he let out one last wail before he was engulfed in darkness.

“Otto! What’s going on in there?! Open the door man!” Otto lay on the floor, face digging into the carpet. His eyes opened slightly and the banging on the door filled the room with noise. “Hey! Open up!” a voice yelled from outside. Otto cocked one eyebrow as he recognized whose voice that belonged to. It was Reymundo, his neighbor who lived across the hallway from him. Otto slowly got up from the floor, turned around and jumped from fright. The couch lay in front of him, inviting him to sit a while.

Otto grinned to himself, you won’t get me this time. He backed up against the wall and closely hugged it as he walked over to the door. He cracked open the door slightly and peeked out. There stood Reymundo on the other side, “Yo man?! What the hell is going on in there?” he asked with genuine interest.

“Uhh nothing. Just a bad dream that’s all.” Otto responded scratching his head staring at Rey’s feet. He was barefoot. Actually he was only wearing shorts that were much too small on him and a dirty, stained white t-shirt. His pajamas? Otto turned to look at the clock, 8:13. He opened his door a little more to look down the hallway. Many of the people who lived on the floor where gathered outside their doors staring over in Otto’s direction. He looked back at Rey, who was still standing there. “You wanna come in?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yea sure holmes, just let me close my door.” Rey disappeared into his apartment and came out with his keys. He step into Otto’s apartment and headed towards the couch. Otto, afraid that the couch would swallow Rey up, tried to leaped, but it was too late. Rey leaped over the back of the couch and landed on the soft cushions. Otto ran over and looked down, eyes wide, at Rey sitting there, astonished that he wasn’t being eaten alive by the couch. “What’s up man? What you looking at?” Rey had a Mexican accent, so when ever he said you it came out more like chu.

“Oh um nothing. The couch was being weird earlier.” Otto said quietly.

“What? Like making noises?” Rey asked as looked around at the couch making sure nothing was wrong with it. His inspection satisfied him and he put his thick legs up on Otto’s table with a heavy thud and relaxed. “This couch is nice man.”

Otto asked Rey if he wanted something to drink and he replied just water. Otto opened the cabinet door and reached for a cup, but suddenly the cups began to sway as if they were performing a coordinated dance. He closed the cabinet door quickly and walked over to the sink glancing back at Rey on the couch to make sure he was still there. He opened the faucet and a flow of cold water came out. Otto put the cup under the small stream and felt it getting colder in his hands till the water level almost spilled out the cup. He closed the faucet and stared at the spout. Little drops of water leaked and formed a little puddle at the bottom of the sink. Every droplet glittered strangely which caused Otto to look closer. The drops weren’t drops at all, but little eyes falling out and landing in a puddle with a million eyes looking back at him. All blinking at different times, they watched Otto intently, as though studying him.

“What’s so interesting?” asked Rey, peeking over Otto’s shoulder. Otto jumped and the cup of water he was holding spilled all over his shirt. He looked down at the shirt and, in anger, threw the cup into the sink, shattering it into small pieces. “SHIT!” he yelled at his shirt.

“I didn’t mean to scare you vato” Rey said apologetically, shrugging his shoulders. “Listen, how ‘bout we go back to my pad and we’ll smoke a bowl and you’ll calm down and we can just chill. Huh?” Otto agreed just to get out of his apartment, he was starting to get freaked out.

Otto had never been in Reymundo’s apartment and was surprised by the neatness of it when he stepped in. He expected clothes scattered all over the place and unorganized papers everywhere, but everything was so clean and organized. “Welcome man, this is my pad.” Rey looked over at Otto’s stunned face, “I try to keep it clean for the ladies holmes,” he said grinning. “They don’t like messes. Speaking of ladies, what ever happened to yours? Leila was it?” Otto looked over at the mention of her name and nodded, stiff faced.

“Well I don’t like to talk about it.” Otto said looking down at the floor then up alt the walls for the first time. The room made him comfortable with the various posters of Jimi Hendrix or Bob Marley on the walls. Rey sat on his couch which was larger than Otto’s, and motioned to Otto to sit beside him. Otto stared at the couch, hesitantly, he walked over and sat carefully. Rey watched his movements and cocked an eyebrow.

“Dude, you’re tense. Here let me pack a snapper.” Rey said and picked up a small pipe and a bag of marijuana from over the couch arm. Otto watched him as he stuffed a small amount of the green into the pipe. “There you go” Rey said holding out the pipe.

Otto looked at it and took it from Rey. He grabbed the lighter on the table and began to burn the herb. He took a deep inhale and passed the pipe back “You know,” he said letting the smoke drift out of his mouth, “I don’t smoke.”

Reymundo let out hearty laugh, which echoed throughout the room, as he took the pipe back, “We’re gonna fix that vato!” He smoked the pipe as if he had been doing it his whole life, which he probably had. Otto chuckled at this thought. Rey put the pipe down and looked around. “Hmmm” he wondered as he tugged on his long beard. “I know!” he got up quickly and went over to a big stereo that was in the corner of his room. “You like Jimi Hendrix? Wait…what kind of question is that? Everyone loves Jimi Hendrix!” Otto apparently wasn’t in the everyone category, he never really had listened to Jimi Hendrix. Soft chords came on and Otto could already feel the ganja working on him. They were beautiful chords and they relaxed him immediately. He sank into the couch and followed the music.

After all the jacks are in their boxes

And the clowns have all gone to bed

You can hear happiness staggering on down the street

Footprints dressed in red

And the wind whispers Mary

Thoughts of Leila sprung up into Otto’s mind. He could see her face and her brown hair blowing in the wind, out in a field of green. The beauty of the thought made him smile and Rey took notice. Otto with his eyes closed, saw colors with such brightness, he squinted. “Wow,” he whispered. He hadn’t felt this good since he had been with Leila.

A broom is drearily sweeping

Up the broken pieces of yesterday’s life

Somewhere a queen is weeping

Somewhere a king has no wife

And the wind, it cries Mary

When the guitar solo came on Otto’s eyes widened. He felt every single note carry along, each fitting perfectly. He felt lightheaded, but wonderful. The guitar sung of deep sadness which Otto felt one with.

“What you thinking about? Your girl?” Rey asked quietly.

“Yea”

“What happened between you two?”

“She left me. She said she found someone else.” Otto opened his eyes and looked over at Rey. “I wasn’t good enough for her anymore.”

“That’s harsh vato. I feel what you’re saying though. I once had a girl I loved, but she just disappeared one day. All she left behind was a note saying have a nice life basically. Probably ran off with some guy.” Rey said. Otto nodded his head and looked straight ahead at the wall. The poster of Jimi Hendrix on the wall had a picture of him kneeling on the ground in front a guitar on fire.

The traffic lights they turn up blue tomorrow

And shine their emptiness down on my bed

The tiny island sags downstream

‘Cause the life that lived is, is dead

And the wind screams Mary

Otto got up, with confidence, “Hey I’m gonna go see if I can talk to Leila.”

“Huh? Oh,” Rey had dozed off to sleep, “Ok. Just close the door on your way out. See you later vato.” Otto stepped out and closed the door. He stood straight and walked into his apartment. He picked up the phone with certainty and dialed numbers which his fingers knew all too well.

The phone rang a few times before, “Hey…”

“Hey Leila it’s Otto!”

“It’s Leila. I couldn’t pick up the phone at the moment. If you could…” Otto put the phone down. His arms hung at his side, limp. His positive feeling had gone as quick as it had come. His muscles tensed and his cheek twitched, holding the phone in a death grip. Why didn’t she answer?! he thought. He looked at the phone in his hand, felt the plastic fakeness of it all. It’s her fault I’m like this, a wreck! The least she could do is answer my calls! In a quick fluid motion, he threw the phone as hard as he could at the wall. The phone still yelling out its tone like a cry of pain despite being completely destroyed angered Otto even more. He kicked around all the pieces until the tone stopped.

With his blood rushing through his veins, adrenalin pumping, Otto turned and there was the couch. Its stillness became a threat. He ran at the couch and leapt on it. Clawing it, Otto ripped it to shreds, foam was flying in all directions. He dug his nails deep into the cushions and felt the fabric rip under the raw power. He fell back and looked upon his artful annihilation. A gapping hole now in the couch. Breathing heavily, he exited his apartment and descended the stairs at a running pace almost falling.

As soon as he was outside, the light of day bewildered him. The street was a lot busier than it was the last time he was out. Cars were driving rapidly, paying no attention to Otto. He looked to the left and to the right and ran straight out into the street. The car, a chevy malibu speeding down the street, noticed Otto as he was crashing onto the windshield. He rolled over the malibu completely and landed on the cold pavement with a thud. The car’s brakes screeched, but it kept going. Police sirens were approaching in the distance. Otto gasping for air, in too much pain to move even his little toe, lost consciousness.

The hospital was quite busy, everyone was doing something. Filling out endless forms, reading old magazines, or holding a bandage up to their head wound to keep the blood from getting all over the place. The doctors and nurses shuffled hurriedly through the hallways tending to patients here and there. The fluorescent lights gave the white walls an eerie glare. The man in exam 3 lay in his bed, barely breathing. The machines around his bandaged head beeped and booped. A nurse standing at the foot of his bed looked over his charts, glancing up at him in pity. She had tried to talk to the man, but he wouldn’t respond. He just lay staring at the ceiling, not even blinking.

A doctor, with his white coat and comb over hair was walking by quickly, “Excuse me? Doctor? Do you have a moment?” asked the nurse looking up from the charts.

“A moment? What’s the question?”

“More of a situation, a gentleman in Exam 3,” the nurse looked over at the man in the bed.

“What’s the problem?” asked the doctor with interest.

“That is the problem, I’m not sure,” said the nurse looking back down at the charts as if she had looked over something.

“Can I see the chart?”

“Sure,” the nurse handed the doctor the charts. As the doctor reached out for it, his arm sleeve came up revealing an expensive looking gold watch. 3:58.

“Not much here is there?”

“No doctor, no other physical trauma besides the surface wound on his head which isn’t serious. His vitals are stable.”

“Have you tried to talk him? Does he have a name?”

“When he regained consciousness, I tried to speak to him but he won’t talk. He just stares at the ceiling,” they both looked over at the man.

“Did someone drop him off? Maybe we could speak to them? Let’s get some background information on this fella.” The doctor said walking over to the man.

“No ID. Nothing.”

“Well let’s say hello. Good Morning, I’m Dr. Lawson.” The doctor leaned over the man. “How are you today? How – are – you today?” he repeated spacing out the words. “Look son, you’re in a safe place. We want to help you in whatever way we can. But you need to talk to us. What’s happened? Tell me everything.” The doctor waved his hand in front of the man’s eyes. His eyes followed. This took aback the doctor. The nurse leaned over and the man’s eyes quickly shifted towards her. She straightened up, but his eyes stayed on her.

The doctor caught the movement of the man’s eyes, “Son, can you hear me?” He waited a moment and also looked up at the nurse. She moved her brown hair from her eyes, which were a little widened, and stared back at the man as if were communicating through eye contact. The doctor turned his eyes back down toward the man just in time to see him mouth a word.

“What was that? Speak up son.” The doctor said as he leaned closer. The man mouthed the same word again, but still too quiet for the doctor to hear. The doctor put his ear right over the man’s mouth. Now he couldn’t miss it. The man took in a slight breath and breathed out, “Leila,” quietly. The doctor, with a baffled look on his face looked up at the nurse, but she wasn’t there anymore. She was walking, hastily down the hallway.