The Dark Corner of a Pentimento

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The sun was rising as she entered, and he was already out of bed and in his wheelchair, positioned in exactly the same spot as the day before, and the day before that.

His routine had remained unchanged during the last twenty-five hundred days.

She pulled a seat up next to him, as she did most days, and sat to stare out into the distance with him.

The majority of his day would be spent in silence, and Emerald was okay with that, although on rare occasions he would narrate what was happening just beyond the fragile, transparent barrier that separated the two of them from the world they lived in and the world they watched through glass.

“What do you see today, James?”

“Memories.” he rasped, “It’s memories I see, Emerald, of how beautiful the world was before it all went into the gutter, but I know it’s not real. Right now it’s too beautiful to be true. It comes in waves, the real world always ends up shining through this alluring facade.”

“Tell me more.” she said pleasantly, trying to catch his eyes in the reflection of the window.

“Why?” he asked dryly, “You don’t see what I do through this pane. You’re just like everyone else here, you’ve become complacent. You don’t see the world for what it truly is, only for what you wish it to be.”

“I insist James, indulge me this once.” she smiled brightly.

A moment of silence grew between them until suddenly James broke it.

“It was a living hell out there.” James replied, his breath becoming short and ragged. “Still is in a lot of ways. Bombs fell like rain, with no respect of person. I saw trees explode like they were nothing, and buildings crumble like they were made of dust. The world burned so bright that day and night became one. Still to this day I hear the screams of my friends when I close my eyes. In my dreams I’m running, never knowing when my time will be up.”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and tried to see past his thin white hair, wrinkled skin and the pain on his withered face. What she saw in the depths of him was not unlike a frightened child having woken from a nightmare, except he had no one to hold him close in the dead of night to put his fears to rest.

Emerald put a hand gently on his, “I'm sorry you lived through that.”

As she touched him the sky outside turned blood red, the ground became barren and the distant shouts of men could be heard mingled with gunfire.

In an instant the vision was gone and James recoiled violently.

“Don’t apologize for things you never saw, for feelings you never felt.” he snapped. “You were born after it all and you should thank God above for that, if He even exists.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” she whispered, taken aback.

He turned his cold eyes on her and she saw his demons roiling deep within, caught in a sea of grief and anguish. “Until you’ve heard the screams of a dying friend, or watched a loved one burn alive, you go on ahead believing in God.” His bottom lip quivered, “What kind of God” he trailed off, averting his tear filled eyes.

“They used machines,” he stammered, “they got in our minds, tore into our souls. Killed us from the inside out. It’s said that you can’t destroy a man if you can’t break his spirit so that’s what our enemy set out to do.”

Emerald stood and started to close the blind and promptly sat back down when James began to protest.

“No!” he shouted, “Please don’t! That's all I have. If you shut those blinds you’ll close my last window to the outside world. All I’ll have left is what lives up here.” he said, raising a trembling hand, touching two boney fingers to his temple, “And I can’t stand to be alone up here.”

A tone sounded from down the hall, beckoning Emerald. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had to.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, standing to leave.

“Have I ever been?” he retorted.

“Well, if you want to talk about anything, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Do me a favor and think about it?”

He shook his head and blurted, “What day is it?”

“November 27th. Wednesday.”

“I’ve forgotten it again.” he whispered solemnly.

“Forgotten what?”

“My dear Delilah’s birthday.” he wiped his eyes, “This is not a good place for remembering things.”

Emerald had to restrain herself from bursting into tears as well. Whatever it was he actually saw out that window was not the same thing she saw. Sometimes, like today, she would get a glimpse of it but she knew it would always remain unknown to her.

He had been in the care of Sunset Oasis for seven years now, and some days were okay, but as of late he seemed to stare out the window night and day, barely getting any sleep. What sleep he did get was fitful and his cries after waking could be heard down the long and lonely halls.

They were there wails of a broken man, a tortured soul living in his own private dystopia.

Emerald returned to the floor desk to find Chelsea typing paperwork and Myra filling out a holo-chart.

Chelsea looked up to see Emerald's eyes swollen and puffy, unable to hide her emotions.

“You touched him again, didn’t you?” she asked.

Emerald sighed, “I didn’t even think about it.”

“You have to be careful Em, the torture those robots inflicted on him left indelible marks, the chemicals that were injected into him altered him permanently. What is going on with James is just one of many side effects.”

Myra pursed her lips, nodding in agreement, “Silver Gardens had a woman who could move stuff with her mind. She claimed that the world outside wasn’t real, that it was a cover, that machines flew around making everything look like the war never occurred. Last I heard they moved her to solitary confinement because she kept attacking the nurses and refused to leave her window.”

Chelsea put a tender hand on Emerald's shoulder. “You gonna be okay, hun?”

Emerald nodded fervently. If she convinced everyone around her that she was fine, then she would be.

Snapping back to reality, pushing the harrowing hallucinations to the back of her mind, Emerald picked up the desk phone and dialed a number by memory.

“Hello Lily? This is Emerald Cadence at Sunset Oasis.”

“Yeah, hey I’m a bit busy, can I call back later?”

“Umm yeah, I was just calling about your grandfather. He mentioned the other day being your grandmother Delilah’s birthday. He’s not been doing well and I thought a visit from a familiar face might cheer him up a bit.”

The young woman on the other line sighed, “Grammy Lila died when I was a kid, like thirteen years ago.” She sighed again, “I’ll come by sometime and we can celebrate it, I guess. Just tell him I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, we look forward to seeing you.” and she hung the phone up gently.

“She’s not coming to see him, is she?” asked Chelsea.

“She hasn’t stepped foot in this building in the entire seven years he’s been here.” said Emerald, “And yet every time I call her she promises she’ll visit soon.”

“She’s probably convinced herself she really will come eventually.” replied Myra. “Her false promises help put her guilty conscience at ease.”

Andrea, the floor supervisor, turned the corner and approached the desk, “I hate to ask ladies, but Desiree called off again. I need one of you to stay and work the overnight shift.”

Myra immediately responded, “My son's birthday party is tonight.”

Chelsea groaned, “I’ve covered her last two call-offs. I really don’t want to pick up her slack. Again.”

Andrea gave Emerald an inquisitive look, “Em?”

Emerald nodded reluctantly, “I can stay.”

Andrea smiled, “You’re a doll, Emerald. You saved my butt. You ladies keep these doors open, I mean that. If my entire staff were all like you, well, this place would run smoothly.”

***

The sun was sinking low under the horizon and Emerald peeked in on James after he had been delivered his evening meal. She found him in his usual spot, his tray of food lay completely untouched near the end of his bed.

“How are you this evening?” she asked, “I bet you’re surprised to still see me here.”

He ignored her as he normally did.

She smoothed out her scrubs, “Just like always, I’ll be right down the hall. Let me know if you need anything.”

She turned to leave, and was halfway through the doorway when he spoke, “A candle.”

“A candle?”

He nodded, “I need a candle in the window, for Delilah and the others.”

“I don’t know about that, James.”

He spun his wheelchair around slowly but deliberately, “When have I ever asked you for anything?”

Emerald thought on his words. He wasn’t on oxygen, and she didn’t think a small candle would set off the smoke detectors. Reluctantly, she agreed. “You’re not supposed to have any kind of open flame in here, James. But I guess since I’m gonna be here all night to keep an eye on it, I’ll oblige you this once. Let me run and see what we have.”

An hour had passed and she returned with a small candle leftover from their Christmas gift exchange the year prior. It had remained unclaimed this long, surely no one would miss it now.

Carefully she lit it, and sat it on the frame below the window, watching the shadows dance as the flame reflected in the glass.

She sat next to him again, heart beating wildly in her chest and asked, “I want to see, truly see.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.” she said flatly, “Share your turmoil James, let someone else in, perhaps we can bear this load together.”

A single tear ran down his cheek as he nodded in agreement.

Emerald situated herself, nervously playing with her hair, and spoke, “No matter what happens, don’t let go.”

He reached toward her and nodded toward the window, “Then look with your own eyes and live vicariously through me.”

She took his hand and the sky erupted in flames. Thousands of people were running as a dark cloud descended on them like black flies to a carcass. The swarm of drones cut through the throng of men with little effort. Emitting glowing beams of light, the hovering aircrafts danced and whirled, sundering men and women into smoldering pieces.

Emerald looked over her shoulder to see one latch on the shoulders of a man, burying his head deep within its metal bowels. The sound of a drill permeated, followed by horrific bellowing. It then turned its bright, artificial eye on her, chilling her to her core. It wasn’t alive, and that was so much worse for it could not be pleaded to or bargained with. It didn’t know pain, loss or agony. It couldn’t comprehend what it meant to take a life.

It was a death-machine, nothing more than forged metal and circuitry designed to rip and tear, to kill until there was no more killing to do.

And right now it was looking at her.

She stopped in her tracks and watched as another drone, much larger than the ones surging about, hovered high in the sky, dropping a glowing teardrop-shaped object from its undercarriage. The device exploded in a bright blue light, bathing her in a sense of impending doom. She lost control of her thoughts, her emotions ran rampant and all she could see, think or feel was a desire to seek oblivion.

In that moment nothing else mattered.

Just as quickly as it had started it was over, and she found herself drenched in sweat and tears as James released her hand.

“What you see out there now” he said, “is a pentimento. The carnage still exists, the dead are still dead and the memories of days gone will forever haunt the tainted earth as the spilled blood seeps ever deeper. All that’s been done is humanity has chosen to cover it, but the darkness still shines through.”

“James, I’m not sure what a pentimento is.” she said quietly, drying her eyes and trying desperately to stop from shaking.

For the first time she could remember, James smiled. “It’s an artist’s term. Oh how my Delilah could paint!” he laughed. “A pentimento is created when an older piece of artwork is painted over and still allows some of the former creation to come through.”

His smile faded as he turned his attention back to his window.

***

Waking from a dead sleep, James sat bolt upright and beheld the nebulous, translucent figures roaming around his room.

“He’s awake,” said one of them, “let’s get him out of here. It’s been quite long enough.”

All eyes turned to the old man in the bed, and one of the ghastly forms approached his bedside.

“Delilah,” he gasped, “it’s you, you’ve come to take me far away from this place.”

Delilah smiled, “Of course I have my dear. You have a job to do. The world is still very much broken, and it is up to us to keep it from shattering. Our burden is a heavy one, the inglorious task of hiding the truth from the living so they do not see the madness and pandemonium that resides right under their very noses.”

“We’re the pentimento.” grinned James.

Delilah returned his affection, “That’s right my love.”

“One thing before we leave,” he grunted, getting out of bed and into his wheelchair, “I have one matter of unfinished business.”

***

The sun had risen and the dayshift nurses had clocked in to start shift change when the phone rang, “Sunset Oasis nursing home, this is Emerald.”

“Yes this is Harvey Cline, I’m a reporter for The Town Tribune and according to my sources you have James Henson in your care, is that correct?”

“Sir, we’re not allowed to disclose the patients we have under our care or the details of their conditions.”

“Listen, I know he’s there and you know that I know he’s there. Mr. Henson is one of the last surviving veterans of the third world war and next week is the fiftieth anniversary of our victory. An interview with him would make the headlines, I can’t help but feel he has a story that needs to be told.”

Emerald thought on this for a moment.

“I can ask if he’d be willing to speak to you, but I’ll warn you, he doesn’t open up very much.

Emerald made her way to his room and was welcomed by the smell of a candle that had just gone out and the sight of a peaceful James still asleep in his bed.

“Well James, it seems like your candle burned all night and went out just this morning as the sun came up.”

She turned to him when he didn’t respond. His curled hands grasped tightly to his sheet, his eyes closed in an eternal slumber.

Clenched in one fist was a piece of paper with words scrawled across it.

She saw the candle! My dear Delilah saw the candle in the window and she came to me. Through a war torn battlefield she trekked, across a desolate wasteland she fought, just to find me here. We’re leaving now to finally go back home, or what’s left of it.

Thank you, Emerald, for the candle.

I’ll see you around sometime.

Corporal James T. Henson

She folded the note and put it in her pocket, turning her eyes to the window where many an hour had been spent in silence. Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, the ground was charred black, drones zipped back and forth through the air and the sounds of distant gunfire could be heard.

She sat, dumbfounded, blinking and rubbing her eyes, but the vision never left. The veil had been lifted and the realization was almost too much to bear.

As a tear ran down her cheek, the world she knew flickered slowly back into view.

“Oh” she whimpered, “what has been done to us? How foolish could we be? To go to and fro, living our daily lives in a ravaged world, content to be fooled.” She wiped her eyes, “Such is the folly of mankind, to blind themselves to inconvenient truths and live joyfully ignorant to the harsh reality that exists right under our noses.”

The outside world was now known to her, and she could see glimpses of it through the window in his room.

She buried her face in her hands and wept alone, save for the lifeless body of James Henson, in the dark corner of the pentimento.