The Red Light

There is a light out there. A red light in a house so far off the beaten path it\'s bruised with neglect. It should have been forgotten. Was for decades. But that hardly matters now. What does is avoiding the light. Completely. Unless you can\'t. And if you can\'t, I\'ll see you soon.

I guess this can all be chalked up to my fear of commitment. Hell, I can\'t even commit to weekend plans. My friends would have day planners full of shit to do. Even had a friend who would block off his calendar for mundane tasks like laundry or eating lunch. That wasn\'t me.

I lived by chance. If it was a day full of new experiences, great. If it was a day to sleep, get high, and rewatch Twin Peaks, so be it. Point is, I don\'t like to make plans, and I sure as hell don\'t want other people telling me where I should and shouldn\'t be.

Now I\'m here. The only thing to see, a dim red glow cascading down from that single bulb, never to die out.  It\'s been on since the last one and will be on for you if you\'re next.

There I go again. Let\'s focus on the good. What my life was like before everything was drenched in permanent crimson. And that good was Victoria.

I had moved to Wisconsin for a job, my first out of school, and it being 2008; in the midst of yet another economic panic attack, I took what I could get. Did I want to work in suburban Wisconsin? No. I wanted to be in Chicago, where the action was. But like I said, I go where the world takes me. And in 2008, it took me to Pewaukee, Wisconsin, a smudge away from the real \'Waukee in Wisconsin.

I was starting my career as a lab tech, something I stumbled onto, surprise, by taking whatever classes fit into my schedule in college. And I liked science because there were unknown variables and uncertain outcomes. I was a month\'s rent away from moving back home to Nebraska, and I sure as shit wasn\'t ready for that. So when I got a callback after months of endless applications for anything tangentially related to my degree, I took it. Pewaukee be damned.

And life was good. Wisconsin is beautiful, especially in early fall. Nothing but rolling hills covered with auburn leaves and a chill in the air to remind you of winter, but not enough to scare you inside. My job was good with pleasant, if not a little boring, coworkers. But outside of work, I didn\'t know a single soul in the city. And I was lonely. Enter online dating. Now, Wisconsin girls, before you get too judgy, are total babes. Just because you grow up with beer and cheese doesn\'t mean you can\'t screw like a city girl.

That\'s how I met Victoria. She was quirky. She was funny. She was sexy. And she wasn\'t looking to settle down anytime soon. Only problem was she lived all the way up in Madison. And I didn\'t have a car. She did, a beater, but enough of a car that could drive the hour plus to hang with me in my tiny apartment.

Despite my distinct lack of commitment, we got close. Close enough that we started to see each other every weekend. And it worked. It made our time together extra special and let me live my carefree life during the week. We eventually got into this rhythm of swapping the cars. She\'d drive up for the weekend, leave the car with me, and take the train back. The following weekend, I\'d drive up to her and train back. And I loved those late-night drives. Just the road, a podcast, and a cigarette. It was perfect. Until I saw the light. That fucking red light.

Here\'s something to know about Wisconsin country roads. They\'re dangerous as hell. Not only do they wind back and forth through endless fields like the world\'s lamest roller coaster, but Wisconsin has the highest concentration of drunks. Point is, you can\'t just drift your way through a drive. Hands at 10 & 2, eyes peeled around every blind curve. And it was on one of these white-knuckle drives when I saw a shining red light breaking the darkness of the woods. It streamed from this dilapidated house at least half a mile off the main road, looming on top of the hill.

And let me clarify. There weren\'t any other lights on. Nothing on the porch. Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing for a good five-mile radius. Just one bright red light from the second floor\'s top bedroom.

Seeing it for the first time, I took it for some angsty kid, stuck in rural nowhere, reeling, listening to nu metal in a bloodshot room. Sure, it stood out, but it didn\'t stand out beyond being a bit weird.

Weird enough that I told Victoria about it that night. We were out back, enjoying one of my favorite views in all of Wisconsin: a field full of glowing fireflies. We\'d spend hours cuddled up, enjoying a craft beer — made in Wisconsin, of course — watching the flickering of fireflies. That night, watching their tiny butts glow and fade, we were broken from our trance by a loud sizzle. Above us, another mosquito met its untimely end, zapping in a wave of electric tubes.

\"Why do they do that?\" Victoria asked, watching the scorched body fall away from the zapper, joining his dead buddies piled below.

\"Think they\'re drawn to it. Like, they just can\'t resist.\"

\"Yeah, well, they have brains the size of a pimple, so nuts to them.\"

I took a long pull from my beer, a delicious malty brew with a polka-dotted cow smiling back at me. I was relaxed, letting the slight buzz drift over the day. I swallowed. \"You ever see that red light off Route 59?\"

She stopped mid-sip. \"On the way to your place? If it\'s a red light, it\'s probably a whore house.\"

\"No, it wasn\'t that. It was completely out there. Nothing around for miles. Just trees, fields, and this two-story house. Nothing on but a single red light on the second floor.\"

\"You think a whore house would just be next to, like, a Walmart?\"

\"Look, it was just a bit… creepy, I guess. Like it was trying to get attention. Inviting anyone brave enough to approach.\"

\"Or horny enough.\" She downed her beer, giving me a look. \"Speaking of…\"

I tried not to think about the red light for the rest of that trip. We went out to dinner and on long walks through the auburn fireworks of rural Wisconsin. We slept late, avoiding the morning chill creeping through our poorly insulated walls. We talked about getting a sourdough starter.

Like lightning, the weekend passed, and it was time to go back. Sunday afternoons had this bitterness to them. In some ways, I couldn’t wait to be by myself and on my own non-committal schedule. But I couldn’t deny that weekend me was better than weekday me. Better dressed, more motivated, even better looking. But to admit that meant I was feeling deeper things for Victoria. Long-term things. And my long-term plans did not involve any part of Wisconsin — no offense, cheese heads. I was a bird, and like Nelly Furtado, I had to fly away.

I was driving to the train stop, lost in thought about the upcoming week, sad to be apart. We were just a few miles away from the station when the stop light ahead turned yellow. Instead of speeding through like I usually would, I slowed. What can I say? I wanted a few more minutes with Victoria. The light changed from yellow to red.

I’ve seen stoplights my whole life, and they’re always a particular type of red, like a three-year-old’s fire truck. Primary school red. Friendly, yet authoritative. I know what stoplight red is, and today, hanging from the wire, the stoplight was not stoplight red. It was that red. That black as a moonlit night, and all you can see is red, red. The exact shade of red I saw two days ago on the drive up.

I stared at that light, transfixed, unable to look away. Even as Victoria squeezed my hand, all I saw, all I heard was red. So obviously out of place in the comforting daylight. And it stared back. Angry, speaking volumes with just 100 watts. Behind me, horns honked. Next to me, Victoria was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out. All I saw, all I was, was red.

“Hello! Babe, the light is green.” Victoria hit me on the arm. “Green means go, yo.” I blinked as if waking from the tiniest of cat naps. Another horn honks from behind us. I snapped out of it and slowly inched forward, the angry driver behind me skidding his tires. “What was that about?” She asked, looking at me like I was a squished bug.

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. But right before Victoria kissed me goodbye, right before I boarded the train, I asked, “Hey. Keep an eye out for that red light. The one in the two-story house off Route 59. OK?”

She rolled her eyes, grabbed my hat, and pulled it over my face, shoving me toward the train. “See you soon, lover boy.”

It was a Wednesday when my boss brought me into her office. \"So…we were doing some 2009 planning, and your name came up. You\'ve been here…?\"

\"Five months. Six in November.\"

\"Right. Look, the team likes you. Your energy. There was talk about getting you a bit more involved. Maybe lead a few projects?\"

I paused. I liked it here, but leading a project meant staying on. Project leads were on for months, sometimes years. Being an assistant was simple. Help out where I was needed. And signing up meant… There was a sudden glare. I couldn\'t see it at first, but it came startlingly into view after a few blinks. The emergency light. The one you press when you get a chemical burn and need to start the shower. The emergency light was off. But I saw red. That deep red I had forgotten about for a blessed two days.

\"So what do you think?\"

I stumbled back, knocking over a trash can. I think I said thanks before I left. But I needed air. I needed to be in the sun, away from the red. I needed an exit. I walked purposefully, knocking over some glassware as my boss called out. Coworkers looked up from their workstations, and I kept my head down. I tried to ignore them, ignore the light. But I knew it was shining.

I was able to shake off Wednesday, knowing Friday was nearly here. Excited to see Victoria. Nervous to find out if she saw the light, too. Maybe she\'d get off early and pass by the house in the daylight. Maybe the light would burn out and be replaced by an energy-saving bulb. Maybe it was off for good, the power company finally cutting it for delinquent payments.

Eventually, I got a ding on my phone. Victoria was downstairs. I sprinted like a puppy, excited to see her after days apart. I jumped into her arms, but I could tell something was off. She held her keys in her hands, a slight tremble.

\"What is it?\" Asking, but knowing the answer.

She just shook her head.

\"You saw it? The red light?\"

She said nothing. I grabbed her tighter. Squeezing an answer out of her.

Her mouth tightened.

\"Victoria?\" She shook her head. I held her, trying to comfort. \"It\'s OK. Tell me about the light.\"

Her face twisted. And then broke. She was laughing. Messing with me.

\"There wasn\'t any red light. I drove up I-59 just like you asked. Nothing.\" My face was blank. I\'m not angry, if anything, a bit disappointed. She stared at me, confused. \"C\'mon, I want to order in and forget about this week.” She walked upstairs, beckoning me to follow.

That night, I couldn\'t sleep. I knew it was completely rational that Victoria just missed the light. She was distracted by her phone right when she crested over the hill. She wasn\'t really looking. Totally possible. But what kept me up was maybe she didn\'t miss the light at all, but she was never meant to see it. It was my light to see. Only mine. I turned over, trying to sleep but failing. The room seemed so bright, even with all the lights off. Every time I opened my eyes, I saw one thing. The standby light on my stereo. It was just a pinprick of red. A single LED ensuring me power was on. But tonight, it sure seemed pretty red.

After a morning hike, we went to the store for supplies for our Sunday breakfast. We laughed, playfully pushing each other, grabbing sides of bacon, eggs, and cheese. Always cheese. Things seemed normal. Good. We even got supplies for our sourdough starter. The cashier started ringing us up, each item getting a friendly beep as it was scanned over the light. BEEP. The light got brighter. BEEP. Redder. BEEP. I stared. BEEP. I hated that light. BEEP. It was too much. BEEP. The light stinging my eyes. BEEP. I needed it to stop. BEEP.

I reached over the tiny barrier between us and the cashier, putting my hand over the scanner. \"Please stop.\" The cashier stared back, confused. BEEP. I grabbed the cashier, my eyes never leaving the red glow emitting from the star-shaped scanner. \"STOP. NOW.\"

\"Can I help you, sir?\" A man with a bushy mustache and a name tag that read Manager Steve appeared.

Victoria, embarrassed, made up an excuse. \"I\'m so sorry. We don\'t have enough cash. Can we just pay for what we have?\"

Victoria yelled in the car on the way home. A lot. And she had every right to. I barely said more than \"I\'m sorry,” and \"You\'re right”. After a while, the yelling stopped. She grabbed the groceries and started making breakfast. Angry breakfast.

Watching her smash eggs and viciously whisk batter, I couldn\'t help but smile. She was special. I snuck up behind, giving her a gentle hug. \"Forgive me?\" I asked.

Victoria looked back, scrunching her face the way she knew I liked. \"You\'re still a big, stupid jerk but…, Ok, don\'t be mad, but my parents have been asking about you, and I kinda, maybe, sorta told them I\'d bring you over next weekend?\"

On the stove, I watched as those tiny bubbles broke the surface of the pancake. I watched as the bacon popped in glorious grease. I watched as the stove light shined bright red. Saying hello.

I didn\'t know what to say, so I nodded. I don\'t think I said much for the rest of that trip. I know Victoria said things, important things, but I couldn\'t focus. The red was back, and this time, not letting go. Victoria drove to the train station. Told me she was excited about next weekend. To come early next Friday if I could. She got on the train, and I watched her until it was entirely out of sight. A sadness I couldn\'t define overwhelmed me.

I\'d like to say I spent the week thinking about Victoria and our future. I\'d like to say I thought about it for even a moment. But I couldn\'t. The red was here to stay. I saw it everywhere, every place, and it was time to see it again.

The following Friday, I left Pewaukee at 7:07PM. I could have left earlier; I didn\'t even bother showing up to work. Instead, I waited until darkness took over the sky. I waited in Victoria\'s car. Hands at 10 & 2. Foot on the break. Engine off. Basking in the glow of my brake lights. The red echoed off the garage walls, surrounding me. Basking everything in that red. My red. I sat in the car a full hour, soaking in that carnelian color like vitamin D before I clicked over the engine. The red in the garage was swallowed up. I started driving out of town. I didn\'t need my GPS. I knew where I was going.

Later, I couldn’t tell you how much later, I crested over a small hill on a lone strip of road. Before I even made it halfway, I knew what was there. Like a sunset after a beach day, warm light bled through, cascading down the hill, covering the black with my special color.  I drove higher, more red engulfing the car, shining for me. It was so bright. So wonderful.

I pulled over and put on my hazards, the red blinks matching the ruby hue spilling from the house. I got out, shut the door, and stared, content. Even though there was clearly a curtain over the window, the glow was enough to illuminate a path, like a mission in a video game, right to my destination.

I took my first steps toward the house. And for the first time that drive, rational thought crept in. Turn around. Go see Victoria. Meet her parents. And for a moment, I wanted to. I wanted the false security of being inside a car. I wanted to make a good impression with Victoria’s parents. I wanted that promotion. But it lasted only a moment. My eyes never left the light. Never left my destiny.

I don’t remember walking the path, but soon I was at the front door, the red light right above me. So close now. I took one more look at the car, Victoria’s car, those hazards bleating in rhythm, pulsing like a heart beat. I reached out to the doorknob. The door was already open.

Inside the house was silent, dried leaves from October’s past crumpled up in corners, dead rotting things lumped together like yesterday’s laundry. There was no furniture. There was nothing but the leaves and the red.

I moved through the entryway into the living room, where the only piece of human existence was a key.  It didn’t look like a regular key. It was older, maybe for a hope chest or an attic. I picked it up, the dust around it leaving a perfectly clean imprint. I slid it into the tiny pocket in my jeans.

The kitchen was just as barren. Every shelf empty. Every drawer open as if it were raided in a hurry. There was one item left in the cupboard. A single can of tomatoes. The can was bulbous, rotten food attempting to burst through. But I wasn’t hungry. I was here to follow the path. And the red light shined through the kitchen, reminding me of my final destination.

I headed upstairs, light basking across me like a tractor beam. An alien ship welcoming me, gently pulling. I took another step. A wink of a smile on my face. Another step. More red.

My other senses blurred. I didn’t hear the stairs creak — I didn’t hear anything. My steps, my voice, nothing. I took a breath. The previous dankness replaced with emptiness. No sound. No smell. Nothing. Just red. Red covering the staircase. Red over an empty picture frame, haphazard on the wall. Red across my face as I reached the top of the stairs.

The room with the red light was in sight now. The door shut, and an angry scarlet flowed from the door frame. I approached, never once feeling an ounce of fear. It felt right to reach for the doorknob. To grab that key from my tiny jean pocket. To put it in and feel it twist without resistance. The door opened.

Soon, I’d understand. Understand why I saw the light, and Victoria didn’t. Why I came here. Why I stepped into this room. Why just this once, it felt so good to give in and go where I was told to go.

I stepped into the red room, puzzled. The light was there, a simple bulb hanging from a pull string. So red you couldn’t see the wiring inside. As if full of blood, the light filtered through to produce a color like nothing else. This color echoed down the stairs, back down the path, to the car.

The car! I had a fleeting moment when my mind told me to leave immediately. That at any moment, someone could jump out and chop me to pieces. But I’d come too far. This is my future now. Not with Victoria. Not at the lab. Right here.

I was directly underneath the bulb — the only objects in the room a single wooden chair and a piece of chalk. The chair, the light, invited me to sit. See. I slid forward, finding my footing. It was so bright. So red.

I sat. And I saw it all.

Illuminated on the walls, written neatly in orderly rows. The red light made the words clear as day, like a black light exposing hidden psychedelic messages. I stared at the names, hundreds starting at the top of the wall and falling to the bottom in neat columns. I scanned them, all of them crossed out. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. Each name written in different handwriting. Each name following the same orderly rows. Then I came to the last name on the list. The only one not scratched out with an ugly, angry line. It was my name.

The door to the room shut. The lock engaged and the light, my light turned off.

Now it’s my turn. To sit under this new shade of red. To wait. To learn. Until a new name appears.