phone back in the coat, his hand was sore and imprinted with the phone’s corners.
At the university hospital he couldn’t face the mirrored enclosure of yet another elevator, and definitely not one with other people in it, so he took the concrete stairwell, ascending it two steps at a time. As he stood panting in the corridor of the floor Kaye had been brought to, a nurse told him that the assistant professor’s wounds had been disinfected, stitched, and dressed, the patient given a tetanus shot and antibiotics, and sent home.
“Did you really discharge him?” he said. “He lost a lot of blood.”
“The patient was young and healthy and we only do blood transfusions when it’s absolutely necessary,” the nurse said, giving him a pointed look.
He nodded. “I hope the patient didn’t leave all by himself?”
“No, someone came and picked him up,” the nurse said. “Don’t worry, I’m certain your friend made it home safely.”
“Thank you,” he said.
He exited the hospital’s main entrance and headed for the bus stop across the street. On the way there and while waiting for the bus he almost called Kaye twice. Instead, he texted Narayan on the bus home, rested his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes against the glare of the lamps in the ceiling.
At the honeycomb towers, Michael had let himself into the apartment, made dinner for them both, and eaten.
“Sorry I’m so late,” he said, removing his shoes and hanging up his jacket by the front door. “The professor I’ve been working for had to go to the hospital.”
“Is he all right?” Michael said. “What happened?”
He rubbed his face. He felt terrible. “One of the owls attacked him. I guess something must have frightened it.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
Michael was a quiet shadow in the doorway. “What about you then, are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said, “just need to clean up a little.” He turned on the tap and washed his hands thoroughly before wiping his face and neck with cool water. “Thank you,” he said, “for making food, and for waiting.” Michael leaned over and hugged him.
Yet later, when Michael was a warm silhouette next to him in the muted shine from the bedroom window, the image of Kaye’s face being torn into by the owl’s talons played over and over in his mind and he wanted to leave the bed, pull the clothes back on as quickly as he could, and run out the door. But then he remembered he was at home, so instead he forced himself to lie still and sweat among the sheets while he listened to Michael sleep inside the stuffy darkness.
The next morning he caught a bus to the old part of the city and walked the short distance from the stop to Kaye’s house. The windows were dark and it was quiet. The mist beaded the smooth triangular leaves that covered the trunk and branches of the monkey puzzle tree like plate mail, the droplets catching the gray light. The air smelled of earth and rain, with an undertone of rot. He pressed the doorbell, heard it ring inside, and waited. If Kaye was in bed, which the professor ought to, it would take time for him to reach the door. He hoped Kaye instead would open the lower right panel in the bedroom window and drop the keys to him, as on earlier occasions. But there were no steps in the stairs, no creaking on the floor behind the door, no window pane that opened. He rang the doorbell once more. Perhaps Kaye was asleep? Maybe he should have called before he arrived? A third ring only brought more silence.
He turned and started on the brief walk back to the bus stop while he dialed Kaye’s number.
“Please leave a message after the tone.”
He called Narayan instead. “Have you seen Kaye today?” hesaid after he introduced himself. His cheeks and hands were moist from the fog.
“I haven’t,” Narayan said. “I assume he’s at home taking care of himself. At least he should be.”
“How did the owl room look?”
“Awful. I
At the university hospital he couldn’t face the mirrored enclosure of yet another elevator, and definitely not one with other people in it, so he took the concrete stairwell, ascending it two steps at a time. As he stood panting in the corridor of the floor Kaye had been brought to, a nurse told him that the assistant professor’s wounds had been disinfected, stitched, and dressed, the patient given a tetanus shot and antibiotics, and sent home.
“Did you really discharge him?” he said. “He lost a lot of blood.”
“The patient was young and healthy and we only do blood transfusions when it’s absolutely necessary,” the nurse said, giving him a pointed look.
He nodded. “I hope the patient didn’t leave all by himself?”
“No, someone came and picked him up,” the nurse said. “Don’t worry, I’m certain your friend made it home safely.”
“Thank you,” he said.
He exited the hospital’s main entrance and headed for the bus stop across the street. On the way there and while waiting for the bus he almost called Kaye twice. Instead, he texted Narayan on the bus home, rested his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes against the glare of the lamps in the ceiling.
At the honeycomb towers, Michael had let himself into the apartment, made dinner for them both, and eaten.
“Sorry I’m so late,” he said, removing his shoes and hanging up his jacket by the front door. “The professor I’ve been working for had to go to the hospital.”
“Is he all right?” Michael said. “What happened?”
He rubbed his face. He felt terrible. “One of the owls attacked him. I guess something must have frightened it.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
Michael was a quiet shadow in the doorway. “What about you then, are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said, “just need to clean up a little.” He turned on the tap and washed his hands thoroughly before wiping his face and neck with cool water. “Thank you,” he said, “for making food, and for waiting.” Michael leaned over and hugged him.
Yet later, when Michael was a warm silhouette next to him in the muted shine from the bedroom window, the image of Kaye’s face being torn into by the owl’s talons played over and over in his mind and he wanted to leave the bed, pull the clothes back on as quickly as he could, and run out the door. But then he remembered he was at home, so instead he forced himself to lie still and sweat among the sheets while he listened to Michael sleep inside the stuffy darkness.
The next morning he caught a bus to the old part of the city and walked the short distance from the stop to Kaye’s house. The windows were dark and it was quiet. The mist beaded the smooth triangular leaves that covered the trunk and branches of the monkey puzzle tree like plate mail, the droplets catching the gray light. The air smelled of earth and rain, with an undertone of rot. He pressed the doorbell, heard it ring inside, and waited. If Kaye was in bed, which the professor ought to, it would take time for him to reach the door. He hoped Kaye instead would open the lower right panel in the bedroom window and drop the keys to him, as on earlier occasions. But there were no steps in the stairs, no creaking on the floor behind the door, no window pane that opened. He rang the doorbell once more. Perhaps Kaye was asleep? Maybe he should have called before he arrived? A third ring only brought more silence.
He turned and started on the brief walk back to the bus stop while he dialed Kaye’s number.
“Please leave a message after the tone.”
He called Narayan instead. “Have you seen Kaye today?” hesaid after he introduced himself. His cheeks and hands were moist from the fog.
“I haven’t,” Narayan said. “I assume he’s at home taking care of himself. At least he should be.”
“How did the owl room look?”
“Awful. I
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