PALINDROME by Lawrence Kelter

looked
terrified. “What happened to you?”
    “Lexa fall down and give herself a local in
the head,” I said in a childish manner. “Pretty clumsy, huh?”
    Darla started to cry. “Are you all right?”
She was so nervous that she crushed the bouquet with her hands. “Do
you want some water?”
    “I’m fine. Hey, careful, you’re crushing
those beautiful yellow roses.”
    “What?” Darla was in a state of full-blown
panic, staring at me and showing no comprehension.
    “The roses, you’re ruining them.”
    Darla glanced down at the mangled bouquet.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. They’re for you.”
    “Me?”
    Darla nodded.
    Dr. Moffet raced back into the room. “The
ambulance just pulled up. Are you okay?”
    “Feeling no pain, Dr. Moffet.” I smiled to
ease his worry.
    He shook his head from side to side. “You’ll
be fine. We just have to take all the necessary precautions. I
spoke to the EMS technician. The hospital will have an
ophthalmologist standing by. I’ll finish up with the patient in the
chair and come right over. Just try to relax.”
    “No problem, Doctor.” I took the bouquet of
roses from Darla and looked at the note card. The card was made of
quality parchment paper. The note was handwritten in the most
exquisite shade of blue ink. It read, I hope you are feeling
better, and it was simply signed, Emilio .

Thirteen: Reconciliation?
     
    The only class I had scheduled that
afternoon was a lecture on contemporary literature, and I figured I
could handle that, even after having a needle removed from my
head.
    The trip to the hospital had gone well. The
injection was not responsible for my dilated left pupil. The
ophthalmologist’s opinion was that the dilated pupil was a response
of the sympathetic nervous system. He surmised that the fall had
triggered an adrenaline spike and that the adrenaline, not the
lidocaine injection, was the pupil-dilating culprit. The lidocaine
had been injected subcutaneously and trapped between layers of
skin. So other than the fact that my temple was still numb to the
touch, there were no permanent issues.
    Dr. Moffet gave me the day off with full pay
and was glad that he hadn’t incurred a lawsuit. Better still, I now
had justification for the hazel eye. I smacked my head on the
floor and accidentally took a needle in the temple. Who could
argue with that? It beats, I have the unusual power to alter my
appearance, and I have one eye that just wouldn’t
cooperate.
    I always sit in the last row of the lecture
hall. I’m sure the lecturer wasn’t pleased by the fact that a class
of fifteen couldn’t sit together in the front row of a
three-hundred-seat auditorium, but he never complained about it,
and I liked being the first one out the door at the end of the
lecture.
    “You can wipe out your opponents. But if you
do it unjustly you become eligible for being wiped out yourself,”
another Hemingway gem. This lecturer seemed to be full of them.
Hemingway was such a man’s man. Entire decades had passed since his
death, and the whole of contemporary literature was still smitten
with him. He is a god among writers, simple yet complex, brilliant
yet damaged. He is what all writers aspire to be, but will never
become.
    Ax drifted in as silently as vapor. I wasn’t
sure how long he had been sitting next to me until he spoke. “I see
you’ve still got goggle eyes,” he said as he leaned over to examine
me. “Are you ready for some Chinese medicine yet?”
    “How dare you use the words ‘goggle eyes’
during a lecture on Hemingway—show some respect.”
    “I prefer the writing of Sun Tzu.”
    “Now there’s a surprise. Let me guess, the Art of War ?”
    “Very good.”
    “What should I expect from a great ninja
warrior?”
    “Sage wisdom and unquestionable loyalty.”
    My eyes welled up, and I kissed him quickly
on the cheek. Was this the path to reconciliation? A moment passed.
I had no doubt that it was. Loyalty above all else, loyalty at