I am a broken man. I will not fear death now. I welcome it even. For it to take my broken body in its cold arms and breathe its death into me so that I could finally rest in this broken broken broken body of mine.
I hear a song. A haunting, beautiful noise. Like the lone voice of an angel peering through the heavens to sing for the sorrows she sees. And I answer back. My call is hoarse and unrefined but I sing because my voice is all that I have left. But the angel does not hear my voice. So I lay back silent. As the darkness creeps into my soul. As the waters cover me whole. As the song fades and life ends, I wonder. I wonder.
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The sunlight was warm today. I sat upright and faced the warmth and it was dark. Dark, dark, dark as liquid dripped into my veins. I was not drinking enough, they said. They were called Meiling, they said. Beautiful spirit in Mandarin, they said. This hospital is called Grace, they said. They used to intern here, they said. Stop calling her, she said. We have been together for six years, she said. She had cried when I asked.
I did not remember those six years. All I remembered were my white walls and my white sheets (so that I could bleach them whenever).
She told me that outside was a large parking lot. A large university was down the street. Yes, I knew that. I was a masters student there. Before. Before what? She asked. Before I was blind. But you have been blind your whole life, she said. You have never done a masters. You have never gone to university. You have never gotten a bachelors. You have never. Never what, I asked. Never been well, she said. Her voice broke.
I wished I could have seen -- to see her face. To match those words to a face.To match that voice to a face. To match those lies Those Lies THOSE LIES. I CANNOT. I cannot. i can't. What am I, then? Now, what am I? Have I dreamed my life? That Tuesday day. Those white sheets. That hallway. My room number. She said the room number has always been 1799. Her birthday. January 7th, 1999. She told me that I should've remembered. That I am hurting her.
We are going back home tomorrow. And then to a psychiatrist the next week.
Who am I? I cannot understand. This this this. I cannot understand this.
I heard the lock click and the door opened. Her footsteps are silent but I can hear her place whatever on the desk next to me. Then she came to me. Her hands wrapped around mine and her face nestled in. She was cold. Very cold.
"You're so warm," she said. I did not answer. I rarely did. "I should just bring you as a hand warmer." Her laugh is light and airy. Her hands worked their way into my shirt and onto my chest where they stayed frozen like ice cubes.
"Who are you?" I whispered. Almost to myself, almost silently so that the world may answer me. But she heard it and she answered because she knew no one else would respond.
"My name is Meiling. I am a nursing student. I am 24." I heard this all before."I am your girlfriend... And you promised to marry me."
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I did not respond.
"Kidding, I'm kidding! Stop looking so sad, you're going to make me cry again."Her breath was warm next to my ear.
I said nothing. I am not cruel, no. How could I be cruel to a girl like this? But I was still and silent because it made no sense to me. What happened to my life? The life that I knew. My friends, my family, my heartaches and heartbreaks. And who was she? Meiling? I do not remember a single person with that name. I do not recognize her scent, her warmth, her laugh, her voice, hertouch...
She fed me orange slices. They were bitter and tasted like nothing.
What happened to my eyes? That hallway, my fear, my anger, where did they all go? What happened to the mail carrier, the unit numbers, 1724? Where did they take my eyes?
Meiling did not know. She cried when I asked. I was, once again, unwell, she said. Once again? She would not say.
The doctor came in after lunch and took away the IV drip. Meiling described him as "if a weasel and a giraffe had a baby" and then described the features of a weasel and a giraffe. I kept silent. The doctor didn't say anything either. At least anything that I would care for. He did not care for my silence and spoke to Meiling almost exclusively.
There is a psychiatrist appointment next week. Yes, I know. I know. I know.Pills are to be taken three times a day. Yes, I know. I know. I know. He will see me back the week after the psychiatrists. Yes, I know. I know. I know. I can be released tomorrow. Thank you doctor. Thank you. Thank you.
Then the doctor left and Meiling came back to me. She handed me a pill: round and hard. She kissed me as the pill settled in my stomach and then she left as softly as she came in. Her coldness slowly faded and soon Soon, I fell asleep and dreamed.
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There was a beautiful tree outside my childhood house. Its branches were spread wide and high and -- oh!, the animals we counted on that tree. Squirrels, songbirds, lizards, beetles... And we would sit underneath the tree and watch them scrambled up and down the tree as their song lifted the sky.
Who was with me then? I only remembered her voice. We were young; too young to remember but old enough to recognize our own naiveness. We would go and lay down underneath that tree after school and we would dream, we would sing, we would cry and laugh and fall asleep together to the rustling of leaves.
But one day I woke up alone to the sound of hollow crying -- like the beating of an open drum: thun thun thun thun. I looked but I could not find her. And the hollowing crying continued. Thun thun thun thun. Shadows stretched into the sky and covered its stars. Thun thun thun thun. I was silent. She was gone. But the crying... Thun thun thun thun. I was crying and the tree cried with me. Thun thun thun thun. It had a face dripped with blood and its eyes screamed at me: Why her? WHY WAS IT HER? and not you? Where is she? WHERE IS SHE? My beautiful baby... It shook me up and down, left and right, upwards and sideways. I did not have her. No, I did not have her.
So it took me. To a different town in a different country. To a different tree, old and poisonous, a living corpse in a field of flowers. And it set me there and watched as the withered tree killed and ate me, ripped my limbs to feed its leaves and my heart to replace its own. And as I lay dead, it asked me again; but I knew and it knew as well: she would never be found.
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The electronics whirled quietly and the hush of the outside wind was barely noticeable but everything was loud. There was something wrong with me. That pill I swallowed. It was bad for me. I knew it. I knew it. I had woken up. I woke to my heart beating. It was loud. It is loud. It is Loud! Thunthunthunthun.
