Switching Places

I was leaving the dull paper-shuffling, phone-answering stresses of work in a hurry, when I got shot in the head.

Stories never start with "Of all the times I got shot in the head--?" You don't see your life flashing before your eyes. I didn't even get the courtesy of feeling the cold metal of the gun against my temple or hearing the trigger of life-ending promises being pulled. I had to be shot from far away.

I had no fear because there was no fifth sense of warning. My body temperature was normal like a warm lake with happy fishes. I felt excited by the events of the weekend. I was going to finally see what had happened to a kid wizard with a grown-up enemy. Apparently, they were in a contest to see who had the biggest wand. My eyes were downcast, avoiding the sun. My toes were tingling with anxiety.

Then, I felt a tap in the middle of my forehead like when a drop of hot wax lands on your skin. I blinked. Time started either to move slower or I was getting dizzy. My walking changed from direct steps to confused stumbling until I tripped on a flower stupidly and blacked out face down on some grass which I did not feel when I landed on it. It was like someone had gone inside my head and pushed the off button.

Of the one times I got shot in the head, that first one was the worst.

In his life, Jose had been an almost tall sort-of man. His whole being revolved around "almosts". He was almost dressed good in fancy black dress shoes, brown slacks and an ugly red Dawn of Death Records t-shirt. He was almost a writer in that his succes in writing included one crappy story. He almost had a full set of hair, except he kept cutting it. His skin was a shade of brown from the outside but white on the inside, so he was almost Hispanic. On this Friday afternoon, Jose would be hurt with certainty.

Daria Lourdes Mendez Garcia was a student at ELAC and a part-time pawn-shop clerk. She was a chubby girl with freckles starting from one ear to the next. She wore big sunglasses recently acquired from work from the new shipment.

That day she wore a black and red striped skirt with black shoes with a red flower-shaped ribbon across the front. Her belly was covered because she was not like a show-off skinny girl she knew. She wore a sweter-like blue top that cut off at the shoulders but covered part of the front of her skirt. Her hair was red, loose and cut at the neck. It barely covered her eyes.

She slouched by her white van, waiting for someone.

Freeways in downtown Los Angles criss-cross each other, creating unnecessary bridges that provided close to fifty yards of shade for pedestrians.

Melony was a girl that walked everywhere. That summer, she was dressed in a simple white dress cut at the knees and flat low-heeled yellow shoes. Her long blond hair was tied at the back with a red ribbon. She was almost an example of angelic beauty, and was out-of-place in the quiet streets of downtown, especially beneath the freeway bridge but she had no choice but to walk. Her car was out of gas and she needed to get to the gas station. Melony didn't remember too clearly how it had happened but she was often forgetting about things like that, except she thought she had filled it up two days ago.

She was coming to the shade. Large twenty food high pillars held freeways above her. She went under them, not expecting a white van to come out behind one of the pillars. Cold hands grabbed her by the shoulder, their nails almost biting into her skin and slammed her against the concrete pillar. This close to the sidewalk she could not smell the oily paint of tagging on the walls. She thought the odor had disorientated her more than the pain of hitting the wall. She fainted for a minute or two, nevertheless.

The girl that had grabbed her had left the engine running on her van and had tied her feet and hands together when she had been hit. Melony shook her head and looked up at the girl. Freckles stared down at her, "Daria?" She asked, her hands shaking.

"Shut-up!" Daria exclaimed, "Or I'll put a rag in your pretty mouth!"

Melony quieted obediently. Melony was curious, more than hurt. Perhaps, Daria was doing this because of Jose but why put her in a van then? Where could they possibly be going? Wasn't Jose Daria's boyfriend, anyways? What did she have to do with it?

Melony loosened the knots on the ropes binding her hands. An expert in tying knots Daria was not. In fact there were a lot of things she wasn't an expert in, including driving a van. She parked askew and on the other side of the building where Jose worked. Melony noticed this after she got off the van because she had been blindfolded with a yellow bandana. To Melony it felt like warm soft silk until Daria pulled tight on the knots, then it felt like any kind of burning rope. Daria took it off when they got there.

Across the street from the building where they came to, was The Volunteers Union Work Force office, where Jose worked. Melony saw that Daria was carrying a black suitcase. It looked like it could carry a big guitar. Daria walked away from Melony after untying her, toward a blue door marked "stairs," in big black letters.

Melony took a look back at Jose's work. The front was covered by a see-through glass instead of a wall. She could see him inside, answering a phone. This building was at least ten stories taller than that one, although it stood up on a hill. You had to go across the parking lot and up a grassy hill to get to it. Purple tulips had been planted around the edges of the walkway. A big tree blocked his view of her. Melony thought it was weird that people had decided to grow plants around the buildings. There were so many branched-off trees around them, it had the feel of a park. After the initial shock of seeing Jose again, Melony looked at Daria who had opened the door to the stairs and asked, "Where are you going?"

Daria smiled at her and began to run upstairs toward the roof of the building.

Melony's got an unsettling sort-of fear. Her knees felt weaker than when she'd been cut off guard in downtown. She managed to get some control of them, enough to follow Daria up those stairs. She walked up slowly at first, then gained more control of her feet and broke into a run because Daria had a good head start.

On the roof, Daria propped a piece of wood on the door to stop Melony from entering.

When Melony got there, she started pushing against it. Then, banging on it loudly. "Open the door, Daria! Why are you doing this!"

Daria opened the door as Melony was running to push herself against it again. Her white dress got wet on a puddle of water as she fell on the floor. She landed on her hands and made a splash.

Daria smiled, "Your fingers tingle when they touch the gun."

Melony saw the green and black sniper's rifle set up on a black stand by the edge of the roof. "I don't understand. I thought you were happy together."

"We were. Until he left me, a month ago," Daria said, softly, "It hurt. He left me because of you."

"He didn't come back to me, you bitch!" Melony snapped, thinking she was going to get shot.

"Why would he? Didn't he leave you for me?" Daria asked. Her face had an expression of evil. "I'm surprised you don't want to shoot him."

Melony got up, water on her hands, and said, "Jose said we couldn't see each other anymore, that it wouldn't be right. I didn't hear of you until a month after that."

"Oh, that. I may have told him you were going out with Billy behind his back. He might have thought you'd be happier with him," Daria said. She was caressing the rifle's back with her right hand.

Melony ran at her.

They grabbed the gun at the same time, Melony a little awkwardly because she was stopped by Daria's shoulder. They fought each other for possession of the gun. The back and forth motion was confusing. In one swinging motion it looked like both girls were snaking it back and forth, never even aiming it at anyone. They spoke angry and tired. "You bitch! We were happy together, why would you do that to me!" Melony growled at her.

The gun almost fell to the floor but the girls caught it quickly, even if Melony's hands sometimes slipped because of the water.

Melony's dress was white but it had attained a gray taint throughout her body.

"Do what to you? He liked me more or did you think he came to the pawn shop to buy you that fake silver ring!"

"What?" Melony asked and Daria almost fell on the gun because Melony had let it go. "He was seeing both of us?"

"And he chose me!" Daria snapped, getting up from the floor. She had barely missed the puddle of water.

Jose was coming out of the office.

Melony was feeling betrayed. Her eyes felt watery. "No, " she said, "I'll shoot him."

"No," Daria countered, "I will."

They began to wrestle with the gun again.

Melon's watery hands slipped off the butt of the gun and hit the trigger as the gun was pointing downwards.

A single shot rang in their ears like a loud firecracker.

Their heartbeats stopped, the world stood still.

They both looked down at Jose, who stumbled on a tulip and fell face first downhill. Melony slapped Daria and she fell to the floor, missing the water again, "Is that what you wanted?"
"No," Daria said, "I was only going to knick him in the foot, so he could feel pain."

Both girls ran down stairs.

Hospitals have the worst smells. It smelled like a used syringe and overused Tylenol. The tiny room had two beds, two small desks and two sets of flowers on top of them.

I found myself in a light-blue loose-sleeved cotton toga or drape. It was uncomfortable. I felt like it shouldn't be possible that a hospital bed should see me naked before my own.

I felt a little woozy but the dizziness of before was gone. My toes and fingers wiggled, which was good. I had a silk bandage wrapped around my forehead. "Nurse!" I yelled.

A round Hispanic woman walked my way. She parked herself in front of me, a hand on her hip. "Yes, mister," she asked.

Another thing hospitals had was bad food. The small tray in front of me had bad red Jello, with too cold carrots and too hard meat loaf on a too small plate. "What the hell is this!"

"Dinner," she said and added, "There is two girls here to see you."

Was there? I asked myself. If one of them was chubby it would explain a lot.

"Show one of them in and get this stuff out of my face. I mean who eats this!" A patient next to me was muching down on his hungrily. He was an older man with an overgrown white beard.

I tried to rest my head on the uncomfortable pillow.

The first thing I saw was a face blushing with freckles, "Ah, it's you. Well, you got me, bang-bang," I said, making a small gun shooting gesture with both my hands.

"I would have shot you on the foot," Daria admitted, almost shyly which wasn't like her.

"In that case, " I said, "You missed. I must say that your failure's are hazardous to my health."

Daria smiled, "Same old Jose. I have to go sell the evidence. Come to the shop if you can."

"Hey," I said, smiling at her, "A bullet to the head wouldn't stop me."

Well, if this one was first, who was next? She knew I'd forgive her, even if she couldn't apologize.

The next one was an angel with a dirty white dress and dirty hands. She walked more briskly. Her small hand slapped my shoulder repeatedly. All I felt was the softness of her fingers. "Hey, hey. If you're trying to hurt me, well, too late."

"I was the one that shot you, you know."
I was surprised to see Melony there but it all had been like a dream. I wanted someone to blame for my almost painless death but I said, "Well, I don't want to point any fingers."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked. Her eyes were becoming watery. It had been long ago, though.

"Billy's a good friend of mine," I said.

"I don't even know a Billy, Jose," Melony said, seriously, crossing her hands.

I raised my eyebrows. I felt them touch the bandage. "What? Daria lied to me?" I asked myself and then added softly, "That bitch."

"Why are you smiling?" Melony said, getting closer to me, almost on the bed itself, "Why didn't you come after me, and tell me?"
"Something about not coveting they neighbor's--?"

She slapped me and then kissed me, then slapped again, "Bang, bang," I said.

"I didn't miss," she said, and kissed me again.