Excerpt: The Ink Girl

Arizona could remember it clearly, the soft whisk of the curtains being drawn away from the stage, the smells of floor wax and dust heavy in the air. She had been blind to the hundreds of eyes staring at her – all that mattered was sitting on that leather seat. She had pushed her short, red-brown hair out of her eyes – she could remember it all quite clearly, could remember her fingers brushing the meticulously cleaned keys. And then, when it had seemed like the whole entire audience could barely take another moment of silence, she had started to play.

It had started with a slow, pausing, mysterious rhythm that quickened into a lively, upbeat tune. For five minutes, the music had permeated the atmosphere of the room. Arizona’s hands moved of their own accord, leaping from key to key. She remembered feeling the hot, prickly stage lights burning her skin, she remembered the nervous, tingly feel of knowing that hundreds of people were watching her play.

But none of that mattered now.

If Arizona really thought about it, she was pretty sure that she could remember someone opening the great doors to the concert hall, white light spilling onto the carpet. She wasn’t sure what was fact or fiction after that, it was really a blur. She had heard someone running through the audience, but she had concentrated on filling her mind with the music…it had become easy to her, letting the world fade away…and then the song had ended, and applause had erupted from the audience…and right then, right then, Arizona felt as if she could not have been happier…

She had stood up, curtseyed in her satiny black dress, and then slid offstage. She remembered how clear the roar of the audience had been, even when she was out of sight.

Instead of finding a few anxious, excited performers waiting offstage, Arizona saw that they were all gathered together in an uncertain huddle. She took a tentative step forward – she remembered someone looking at her, and then a few more…she remembered how dim the lighting seemed…how distant the audience’s fading applause was…

She had recognized the woman in the center of it all...vaguely…though her mind couldn’t match the face with the name…and the woman had looked at her…really looked at her…

“Arizona…?” the woman had questioned, and the circled around her had parted.

The girl knew something was wrong…though she should have known before hand…ever since the doors had flung open…and her mouth was dry…

“What do you want?” Somehow, remembering it all, those words seemed so detached and ragged in the memory – like they weren’t there, even though Arizona knew that she had spoken them at some point or another.

“It’s Dina.” The woman’s face was waxy, cold. Arizona could feel everyone watching her, until one of the instructors ushered the next kid on stage. Vaguely, she could hear a song weaving out of the piano keys but she was too sick to care.

Of course it was Dina.

It had /always/ been Dina.

“Oh damn,” Arizona cursed, examining the cut on her finger, jerking herself back to reality. Nothing more than a scratch. It stung like crazy though. She sighed, gazing through the gaps in the rusted chain link fence. It would be easy enough to get out. She wove her fingers through the metal, feeling the weak sunlight on her back. Maybe they wouldn’t see if she climbed over the fence. A few feet away there was a deep hole beneath the fence, probably dug away by an animal. Fox, maybe, or a dog. Arizona crouched down low and wriggled through to the other side. Sticky yellow dirt clung to her shirt and jeans but it didn’t matter, they were already torn and ripped anyways.

Behind the fence was an empty lot, overgrown with weeds. Nobody had ever tried to build anything there, but it had always been behind the concert hall. Arizona sat placidly on the ground, her hands on her knees, palms up. She could hear a concerto playing…the music was streaming out the back door…it was so sweet and soft…

She imagined sitting at the piano…but just having it in sight, even in a vision, was painful for her…

The music seemed to go on and on and on, like a scratched CD, and Arizona’s world felt choppy and detached. She flopped onto her stomach, watching blades of grass twitch in the breeze. A shiny black beetle crawled effortlessly through the dirt. The song ended and Arizona felt farther away than ever, if that was even possible. She should be the one on stage, playing music – she should be the one the audience was clapping for. But their endless, echoing applause was for someone else, and someone else only.

Shadows grew longer as the sun sank lower. The applause faded. Another person stepped on stage and the cycle began once more.

For years, Arizona had complained about having too many piano recitals, having too many lessons.

And yet, what she would and wouldn’t give to be at the piano again, her fingers striking the keys, piping music out of the solemn instrument. She couldn’t bring herself to play, not anymore, but the music didn’t want to leave her. No matter how much she had grudged practicing every day when she’d rather be reading or out riding her bike, no matter how much she wanted to quit, no matter how much it had hurt to hear that Dina had died…the music was still inside of her.

“Direct hit…the pain couldn’t have lasted long…she’s brain dead…machines are the only thing keeping her alive…the other three are okay, just bruised and upset…terribly sorry ma’am…terribly sorry…”

Arizona was walking down the corridor…smelling the pristine, meticulous smell of chemicals…the walls were white…everything was white…there was the room…it was very ordinary, really…just a big wooden door…and there on the bed was Dina…except it wasn’t Dina…the girl there wasn’t Dina, not really…it might as well have been a wax model of her…and there were stitches and bandages and tubes all over…and her bandages were stained red with blood…and then Arizona’s dad was telling them to just end it…because it wasn’t his daughter…it was just her body and her spirit had gone out of her…he didn’t want her to suffer…

“No! Dad! Don’t!”

And then it was over…and the machines stopped humming…a little bit of light
seemed to leave the room…Arizona’s mom started to cry…but Arizona couldn’t cry…she was empty, numb…like the body on the bed…lacking thought and laughter and life…the machines had been keeping her alive – not Dina…and she was being swallowed in the festering darkness…swallowed by lack of emotion…there was nothing…nothing…

Arizona felt something crawling on her hand. It was an ant, simple as that, and she shook it off her hand. Had she been sleeping? Dozing? Or just…remembering? Whatever it was – the skies were now a dusky purple – twilight. The concert hall was empty. The back door had been locked.

The hard earth felt cold against Arizona’s skin. She stood up, dusting herself off, and limped towards the fence. It took awhile to find the ditch beneath it in the fading sunlight. A cool breeze brushed against Arizona’s arms and, shivering, she crawled through, the dank smell of damp earth filling her nose.

She started towards home at a swift pace, digging her hands into her jeans pockets. It was getting dark quickly…and cold, too. She crossed through a field and then another lot where a house was under construction. Its skeletal wooden frame looked ghostly in the twilight.

It was easier to think when she was alone. Arizona couldn’t explain it, but Dina dying had torn her family apart. It was like she didn’t belong to them anymore. They were all cordially polite when speaking to each other. And after Dina had died…it was like being with people only made things worth. They talked too much or too little…there were others that just asked questions about how it had happened. Everyone was like that when they talked to Dina – either pestering her about her sister’s death, trying to force conversation or avoiding her altogether. No, it was best to work alone. When Arizona was alone…she felt like she could truly be herself again – she could think and dream and talk to herself about whatever she wanted.

The light was on at the back porch. Arizona opened the back door – it was unlocked – and slid noiselessly into the kitchen. A few lights were on and she could hear a TV mumbling in the living room. Arizona crept to the fridge and got out an ice cold can of Coke. She popped it open with a crack.

“Zona? You here?” her mom’s voice came from the living room, “Where were you?”

“Just up in my room, mom. I got back from my walk awhile ago.” Hoping that her mom wouldn’t come into the kitchen, Arizona guzzled down the Coke and then darted up the steps. From the balcony she could see her mom, who was watching the news. Before she could be noticed in dirt-caked clothes, Arizona scrambled to her room and changed into her pajamas.

“Dad! Don’t!” a girl screamed on television. Arizona jumped. It was a movie – just a movie.

“No! Dad! Don’t!” And his fingers were nearing the cord…he pulled it out…the room was filled with a sudden throbbing silence as Dina exhaled her last breath…and then…and then…it was over…

…it was over…

Arizona flicked off her light and the uncomfortable memories seeped through the
darkness.

“’Night Zona!”

“’Night Mom!”

It would be a long night, like all the others.

That last song echoed in Arizona’s head over and over…that last memory…rewinding and restarting…

Arizona’s fingers brushed the journal beneath her pillow for comfort. And then, only then, was she able to slip in a restless, tortured sleep.