Untitled Allegory (Part III)

A STEP BACK

The doctor gripped the needle in his right hand, the vehicle through which he believed he could bring life back into this young (and attractive, he began to notice) woman. He began to construct and quickly run through a checklist in his mind. Yes, she was catatonic. She had been for weeks now. Unresponsive, yes, of course she was. A noted weakened appearance. Loss of color. Severe muscle atrophy. Yes, yes, yes. But even as this checklist confirmed his beliefs, the doctor began to think to himself that with such a rapid onset, was he really doing the right thing? Hadn’t this woman been relatively stable only weeks ago? Am I being rash? He shook the thought away as quickly as it arrived, though, knowing, and taking solace in the fact, that a man in his position mustn’t second-guess himself. This must be what she needs, he confirmed to himself. But holding the needle, playing with his grip on the syringe by changing the positioning of his thumb and index finger, the doctor inched closer towards the woman and, for the first time that he could recall, stared directly into her eyes.

His set of eyes carefully shifted from her right eye to her left, and then back to her right. In the brief but intimate scan, an image, sharp as day, was recorded into the folds of his mind. Green, he first thought. A rich and deeply dark green. But wait, brown, too. Equally dark, equally rich. Each color represented fully. Each displaying a boldness quite unique and independent of the other. Yet together, the colors formed one new color, which at once seemed warm and familiar, but also bright and unknown. The beauty of each color was shared, not tarnished, to create something new. He had never seen anything like it.

The color drew the doctor into her eyes, allowed him to linger within them long enough to catch a glimpse of something quite different now—not only did he look into her eyes, but she seemed to be looking back into his. At first startled by this revelation, he attempted to dismiss the thought completely. He cleared his throat, a quiet noise that filled the tense room, perhaps trying to physically rid himself of the uncomfortable idea that had already invaded his thoughts. His attention was quickly seized again, though, as her eyes seemed to grab his and pull them back towards hers, as if to say, Yes, I know you can see me. His mind stuttered into action. He squinted, a physical sign of his inner-disbelief, and then stared into her black pupils for several more seconds. Looking into the blackness, he attempted to affirm his initial beliefs. Yes, the shot will do the trick. Yet even as he turned towards her husband, ready to deliver his opinion, his professional diagnosis, he thought to himself, Does she look frightened?