A Rose by Any Other Name

Chapter 2

The elevator was rickety as fuck and tiny. I wouldn't know how anyone could move furniture in this thing.

The medical staff had removed my leg cast before I left the hospital but it still felt odd when I stepped with it. There were stitches halfway down that leg. The doctor said something about having to replace some of my bones with a titanium rod.

Mike went in front of me to open the door to the apartment -302. The beats passed as he unlocked the door and gestured for me to go in.

It was...depressing.

I walked around, touching things I didn't recognize and sitting at the dining table. The first thing I realized was that the place was tiny. Just a small living room with a tiny tv, an old desktop and a narrow hallway.

I looked at Mike, but he didn't seem as disturbed as me. "You didn't tell me I was poor. That I am poor...Next thing you know I'll step on some dusty food stamps, fuck."

I looked through the cabinets, finding dated looking plates, cutlery and complete sets of dining ware that didn't match at all. I kept walking through the apartment, touching books I didn't remember reading. I picked up the remote- it was cracked on one side held together with tape.

Mike watched me silently as I walked around, staying a few paces behind me.

"Do you want to see your bedroom?" Mike's voice felt loud in the silence.

He started walking down a narrow hallway, opening a door.

My supposed bedroom was sparse, a double bed, desk and a dresser. The walls were empty and nothing screamed any kind of personality to me. It seemed like I had none.

I turned to Mike. "So this is who I am? Some unseasoned guy who lives alone in a shitty apartment?"

Mike swept a hand through his hair, looking for a way to respond. He left the room and opened the door to another room.

I walked inside expecting the worst. Except—

"Holy shit!" I said, walking around the room. There was a massive window on the side with an incredible amount of natural light shining through. There were a series of tables on the side and at least three easels. And the wall...I touched the mural full of long expressive strokes, abstract, but stunning; a series of red, greens, yellows and happy.

Whoever painted this was happy.

But it wasn't done, the centre was decidedly empty and I thought a flower would fit well there. Maybe a rose.

The entire room was an artist's wet dream. There were an incredible amount of sketches, drawings, paintings and even a small wooden sculpture on the side. The room was well ventilated and spacious. It was clearly a room for art. So different from the rest of the apartment. Vivacious. Artistic. And then deep down I knew it was mine.

I sat in a stool by a drafting table, looking at different sketches. One caught my eye, a man half nude. The drawing only showed muscles bunched across a broad back. In the next drawing there were hands that I recognized, reminding me of a lumberjack.

"Is that me?" Mike said, appearing suddenly behind my shoulder, smelling warm. Mike reached his arm over mine, sliding my fingers away from the drawings. I looked at him beside me; close. Too close.

I shifted away, forgetting I was sitting on a stool and falling onto my ass. "Ow." I groaned, pain ricocheting up and down my legs.

"Are you okay, Derrick?!" Mike crowded over me, helping me up and looking afraid. I dusted myself off with one arm, but he was still touching me. "Do you really-" he squeezed my arm. "You really don't remember anything?"

I looked at him, frowning. "No. I don't."

"Not even-" I watched as his face slowly bloomed red, and he gnawed on his lower lip. "-Not even the hospital room? Before the surgery?"

I looked at his face, turning more and more red. I touched his cheek. It was warm. "Wow, you're really burning up." He looked startled but didn't remove my hand, the blush going down into his neckline. He looked at me expectantly, like he was hoping for something. I moved my hand away and he sighed in what looked like disappointment.

"No. Was I supposed to remember something?" I said softly, considering him.

He swallowed, determination looking away from me. "No. Nothing. Nothing important"

But because of the way he chewed his lip, and his nerves and the way he was looking at me...I figured something important must have happened.

Overall thoughts?