Life (5)

Life

The next day, Karen woke up to the sounds of Sarah’s parents’s arrival. She quickly stood up to introduce herself. They exchanged a look of indignation and sorrow. She gave them a moment alone with their daughter. On her way out, Karen caught a piece of conversation between an officer and Dr. O’Neill. A name was dropped. She walked to the reception and asked for a room number under the name of Jamal Clifford. At his door, two agents were standing and scrutinizing each person that were passing by. Karen asked few questions to them but they remained silence.

‘It’s for an essay. I’m a student in journalism at Sung University. I have an article to write about a fresh event in order for us to learn the ropes of getting informations from the police and other sources right on the spot.’

‘How’s it going so far?’ the officer asked, a point of sarcasm in his voice.

‘Ok, i guess. I mean, i did manage to find this room number. Come on! Help a student out! It’s not like it’s going to actually make the news. It’s just for class.’ The man took a moment to think, staring at the young lady in front of him. As seconds went by, her eyes softened his mind.

‘What do you want to know?’ A huge smile appeared on her face.

‘So, what happened to the guy inside?’

‘He was beaten up by someone. He don’t want to say who.’

‘So, he’s speaking.’ The officer nodded. ‘Did he say something about why he was attacked?’ The man’s expression changed: he looked amused.

‘You apparently know more than you pretend to. What are your real questions? I think it’s best if you are just direct.’

‘Ok. Did he say anything about Sarah Jefferson?’

‘He admitted to assault her.’ Karen froze. ‘He will be charge for a first degree assault and murder in the next few days, as soon as he gets out of hospital, if Sarah Jefferson doesn’t wake up.’ Karen looked down, then something attracted her attention on her right: a familiar silhouette drowned in the flow of medical personel.

‘And if she wakes up? What happens to the murder charges?’

‘The prosecutor will change it in attempt of murder.’

Karen left the officer without another word to return to Sarah’s room. As she approached the room, she saw John and Charlotte waiting in the hall. She interrogated her friend with her eyes. Charlotte brought her finger to her mouth. Minutes later, a policeman and the surgeon in charge walked out. Both of them gave a look to John who stood up straight. Shortly after, Sarah’s father stormed out. John tracked him with his eyes, waited for the father to disappear in a contiguous corridor before following his steps. Sarah’s father stopped his walk on the third floor where two police agents prevented him to go further. John pulled out his phone and dialed: ‘Chris? He’s moving.’ Then hung up. As he turned around to go back to Sarah, he bumped into Karen. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘What’s going on?’ John let a moment of silence pass.

‘You saw her. You know what is going on.’ They stared at each other.

‘How are you and Chris involved?’

‘I can’t tell you that. Not yet.’ He left her on those words.

‘What? Why? And what does that even mean?’

 

The following friday, Karen visited her friend again, hoping to see her wide awake. Outside of her room, Mr. Jefferson seemed to be in a deep, serious conversation with a hooded man. Tears appeared in his eyes as he nodded to his interlocutor. When Karen was close enough, the hooded man mildly turned his head before evacuating the hallway. Right before a wall blocked her view, a quick eye-contact made Karen go after him but the latter already vanished. She questionned Mr. Jefferson but he claimed that it didn’t concern her. The same night, Karen convinced the Jeffersons to let her spend the night by Sarah’s side. She tried to pull an all-nighter but her mind had no power over her body and she fell asleep.

‘She still doesn’t wake up.’ A voice irrupted. ‘What should we do? At this rate, someone’s gonna notice something.’

In the silence, Karen’s consciousness surfaced. She heard movement around her then the darkness of her eyelid lightnened up.

‘Are you sure? I know you promised her father but… what about yours?’ Another voice said.

The light disappeared. As footsteps echoed in the room, Karen opened her eyes and caught one of them in the door frame. She recognized him: ‘Chris?’ The latter turned around. ‘What are you doing here?’ He watched her standing up then turned away. She followed his look: Sarah woke up. ‘Sarah!?’ That quick second was enough for Chris to disappear.

Karen rushed outside of the room to get a nurse then ran back to her friend. The neurologist checked her pupils and asked her some questions before explaining her briefly her situation. Her parents were called and arrived an hour later. ‘She is responsive. We’re going to keep her few more days under observation to make sure nothing is wrong. But…’ He looked perplexed. He glanced at the parents: tears streamed down Mrs. Jefferson’s face as she squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly, and Mr. Jefferson allowed himself to crack a smile. He walked to the neurosurgeon, opened his arms and pulled the latter against him: ‘Thank you… Thank you so much.’ he whispered as he chocked the doctor. When he released him, the neurologist felt the change of atmosphere: the severe and taciturn man became a jolly father relieved to get his little girl back.

Karen watched the scene few steps back. She couldn’t stop smiling as she texted Charlotte the news. When she looked up again, she noticed the concerned face of the doctor. She scanned the man as something bothered her. He looks like someone i know. What’s his name again?’

The surgeon remained speechless after hearing the man’s words. He immediately understood that they weren’t meant for him. Chris. What have you done?

 

 

To be continued

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Life (3)

Life

‘A boyfriend?’ Sarah was surprised by the blunt question. ‘No, i don’t have one. Why do you ask?’.

‘How long have you been single?’ he asked. Sarah began to be suspicious about James’s intentions.

‘What is going on?’ Her voice raised, attracting some eyes around them. The ambiance music of the coffee shop wasn’t loud enough to cover their conversation.

‘Nothing! Sorry, he’s just… not used to talk to girls.’ John interrupted before James could get a word out.

‘No, i’m not.’ the latter whispered.

An awkward silent settled at their table. Sarah scanned the three guys one by one and caught John and Chris exchanging a look.

‘What? Why did you invite me for lunch, exactly?’ She felt trapped, ambushed. John leaned closer to her, lowered his voice and said:

‘Listen. We… Just  wanted to let you know that we are here. If you ever need… Anything. Help. Support. Anything.’ He glanced at Chris one more time then directed his attention back on her.

Sarah looked confused and moved. She came in Toya City alone, to pursue her studies and become an architect, leaving her entire family back in Chime town. On her first day of school, she was teamed up with a random guy for a project that would occupy them for a year. As they had to interact often, they learnt to know each other and eventually fell in love. Their relationship evolved faster than she expected: without notice, he moved in with her. It didn’t bother her at first, she thought she would adapt. But as time went by, his small flaws became bigger and her tolerance reduced to a point where she reached her limits. His jalousie appeared when she met Charlotte whom is more outgoing. He wouldn’t let her be without him: she felt locked in her own relationship. After another unresolved fight, things got out of hands. The next morning, she found herself using make up more than she usually did. She then remembered her father’s greatest lesson: ‘Don’t ever let a man mistreat you in any kind of way. You are my daughter. My princess. A queen to the world.’ She left her appartment and found shelter with Charlotte and Karen. She managed to avoid him for few days, until she had to go back to her appartment to take some clothes. He apologised, begged her to come back and promised it wouldn’t happen again. She wanted to believe him, but when he stepped closer to hug her, her body remembered his violence and tensed. She pushed him away and clearly stated her decision: ‘It’s over.’ The same night, Karen and Charlotte stopped by her appartment after Sarah told them what happened and how he reacted. They let him know that he had one day to gather his stuff and leave. The next day, the three of them spend the night at Sarah’s place. It took her a week to feel at home again. Once she did, she noticed a silhouette creeping behind a tree, down on her street, some time to times. The same silhouette appeared now and then every where she went: she didn’t feel safe anywhere anymore. And no one could help her with that. So when she heard John’s words, a sense of relief burst in her chest.

Days passed and Sarah found herself surrounded most of the time: she let her guard down, her paranoia faded.

The eve of all Saints arrived. The moon was high amongst stars. Little monsters were running from house to house, screaming and laughing out loud. Sarah was on her way to Karen and Charlotte’s party, her walking dead make-up scaring small ghosts, princesses, vampires and wizards. She walked proudly.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her and pulled her in the darkness of an a alley. Another hand blocked her mouth before she could make a sound. As she was very close to the stranger, she could smell his perfum. She pushed him away and turned to face him: ‘Jamal! What the hell!’

The man walked slowly to her. His eyes fixated on her. The more he came closer, the more she stepped away, until her back hit the wall. He put his hands on it, trapping her between his arms.

‘Who are those guy?’

‘What?’

‘You don’t belong to them. You belong to me. We belong to each other.’

‘What.. Listen, go away and i won’t call the cops.’

‘You’re supposed to be with me…’ He closed his eyes and aproached his face to hers.

‘Go away!!’ Sarah pushed as hard as she could. They froze for a second, starring at each other. Confusion filled his eyes. ‘I don’t belong to you. I belong to no one. I’m not an object you can own.’ Her heart beat faster each second. Her hands were trembling.

‘You love me… I love you.’

‘No. Not anymore.’

One those words, something broke in him. She turned her back on him and walked away. In a flash, his expression changed. He grabbed her by the arm, turned her around and punched her to the ground. She didn’t have the time to process everything that he put himself on top of her. With one hand, he held hers, while his other one moved down. He was strong and heavy. Sarah could barely do anything. She moved about but he didn’t flinch. Instinctevely, her knee met his sensitive parts making him scream of agony. His grip loosened. She took her chance and punshed him in the face: he fell on the ground. She stood up and started to run but was quickly caught up by Jamal. He pulled her further in the alley and attacked her relentlessly. Hollers of anger came out of his lungs as his fists percussively hit their target. Suddenly, he stopped.

He looked her: her eyes were closed a long time ago, blood covered her make-up and bruises started to appear. He stood up, starred at her inanimated body one last time before walking away.

Sarah regained consciousness for a moment. She looked at the stars sparkling on a black curtain. A muffled noise attracted her attention. She turned her head to her left with the remaining strength she had: she couldn’t believe the scene displayed before her eyes. Jamal was immobilized against the wall: he grasped for air. Someone else was running toward her. John…

 

 

To be continued

Life (2)

Life

To: Chris T

It’s been a while since i’ve seen you at school. I think you need to go at least tomorrow, just to remind professors that you exist. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty, tomorrow. Be ready. 

A constant stream of engines lulled his ears as he, himself, walked his way through the crowd of  late workers and students. John took a right, coming out of the herd, then abruptly slowed down his pace. He pulled out his phone and typed quickly. As he was about to press ‘send‘, he heard a door unlock: Chris appeared in the frame.

‘Nice timing!’ John greeted him. ‘So, what happened last week? I saw Karen following you outside but… neither of you came back… So…?’ Chris gave him a death stare. ‘Oh! Come on!’

‘Nothing happened.’ he said. John’s mind froze for a second, realizing the miracle he just witnessed.

‘Euhm, yeah, sure!’, he glanced to his right, felt the threat in Chris’s eyes and didn’t insist. ‘Anyway. I wanted to talk to you about Sarah. You remember her? She was one of the girls from the bar. Anyway, she might be a danger. And in danger.’ Chris frowned quickly. ‘I haven’t seen much. Just a dark alley, right next to a party. I heard kids laughing and music.’ John paused, acknowledging the lack of information he was giving. ‘We will have to follow her for a while… I have this strange feeling that it will be on Halloween, though, otherwise, kids wouldn’t be out that late.’ He fell into his reflections and confined himself in a silence.

As they arrived at the gate of the university, John caught sight of Sarah entering the Architecture’s building. She was alone and her pace fast. He extended his sight to Chris who clearly didn’t want to be here.

‘Alright, i’ll see you at lunch.’ John claimed before leaving him on his own. Few meters later, he looked back to make sure Chris was staying within the university’s walls. The latter hasn’t move a inch, his face emotionless and his look blank. John turned his back around and rushed to class, hoping his friend won’t disappear again. Like you always do.

Hours passed and the time to eat arrived. As he stepped outside, John was joined by James Atwood, a young man who was once crushed by the weight of life. He was wandering around town, pretending to have a plan, after dropping off of school. One day, he found himself at Taan Aka Park, early in the morning. Only one person was there: a young man, around his age with a backpack in his hand, his head faced the orange sky. A student? Or is he faking it too?’ The young adult noticed him, he looked down. At first glance, one particular  thing struck James: he seemed to be just as lost as he was. When he turned to him, James saw something in his eyes: a deep sadness that he tried to hide. They didn’t exchange a word that day, but ran into each other every now and then. Until, James dared to approach him: it was a one-way short conversation. As they met more often at random places, a strange friendship was born. After a month, the young man handed him a piece of paper with a name and an address. James didn’t have the time to ask anything that his new friend disappeared. The next day, he went to the address and introduced himself:

‘Hi! I’m James Atwood. I was send by… I was told to come here.’

‘Oh! Yeah! Our mute friend gave me your name. I’m detective Ed Ogawa. If i’m good at my job, i think he wants me to train you.’

‘To be a detective?’

‘You’re not interested?’ James took a minute to process and evaluate his situation. What is more appealing: remaining a lost soul until death comes or contribute to society the was his father does.

‘I’m in.’

It was a year ago. Ever since, his days were filled and tiring. James met some of his silent friend’s friends and learnt his name at the same time: Chris Turner.

John poked him with his elbow and pointed to his right. James scanned the surrounding: through students passing by, he noticed Chris sitting against a tree. They walked up to him: he was asleep. James paused and stared at him: his hand was twitching and his lips were in movement. John gently shook him to wake him up. Chris grabbed him by the arm, unexpectedly, scaring John and James out. ‘Hé…’ His grip tightened strongly. ‘Chris…It’s me, John. Wake up.’ The latter regained consciousness and loosened his grip. ‘Sorry.’ he whispered. He took his bag, stood up and walked away, followed closely by James and John. They walked in silence until James finally adressed the subject.

‘So, i’ve made some researched in Sarah Jefferson. You told me to look into her family and friends: her father is a police officer and her mother a teacher. She has a younger brother that’s still in high school. Her closest friends here are Karen and Charlotte, and it looks like she doesn’t have a boyfriend. When i asked her neighbors about her, they said that they saw a man come and go frequently, but suddenly stopped. Although, some of the neighbors have seen him hanging around. I didn’t have the time to dig up more on him.’ He turned his head toward John but the latter was lost in his thoughts. ‘John?’

For a split second, he could see, in Chris’s eyes, fear and distress. He could still feel his grasp on his arm. ‘John!’ He looked up. ‘Yeah. Sarah. We’ll ask her directly. He’s probably her ex.’

‘The origin of her threat.’

 

To be continued.

Life (1)

Life

*Biip*

Yo! Chris! We’re waiting on you! It’s time for you to show up, now.’

*Biip*

Me again. You’re still not here. Come on, man, you said you’ll come. Don’t become someone you don’t like. Aka a liar, in case you didn’t get that one.’

*Biip*

Alright, it has been about… two hours, i give you five more minutes before i bring everyone to your place. And by everyone, I mean the entire bar.’

*Biip*

Three minutes left.’

*Biip*

A minute and a half.’

The place was crowded, dimmed lamp enlightened each table spread in the six hundred square feet of space. Some people focused on the glass in front of them hoping their worries and troubles would drown in it. Some people remained in their circles of friends. Most people searched for some excitement and entertainment for the night, eyeing and judging each other. A low music filled the background and blanks left by conversations.

Once he stepped in the bar, Chris was hit by a wall of heat. He made his way through standing customers, waiting for available tables, to join his stalker at the other side of the room. As he walked closer, he noticed that three girls had been enrolled in the group. One of them stared at him.

‘You’re here!! Finally. It only took seven calls, five voicemail and a dozen of texts. But hey! You made it!’ John said. The young man looked like he just had a fresh haircut with shades on the side and a little bit more length on the top. He was wearing a dark T-shirt with a ‘BB’ design on his left pocket, a black pair of jeans and grey snickers that matches with his snapback put on the table. Despite his dark outfit, John was actually a very joyful person. He stood up to greet his friend. They were around the same height, then he turned his back around and introduced him to the three incomers: ‘This is Chris, the one we were talking about. The one who never goes out.’ He glanced to his right. Piercing eyes were staring through him. He smiled then turned to the girls again: ‘And this is Karen, Charlotte and Sarah. They’re students, just like us.’. Simultaneously, they nodded and smiled. An awkward silent invested the atmosphere around them for few seconds, where Chris scanned the strangers in front of him. Once he was done making his judgment, he turned to his left and acknowledged the rest of his friends. He interrogated one of them with his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m here too. Night off for my brain, I was about to go crazy.’ Malcolm said. He was in his third year of medical school and for the past few months, he had his nose deep into books and papers. He lived under the light of his lamp, sunlight becoming an utopia. ‘Why you decided to show up?’ he asked but Chris already diverted his look to the room around him, ending the conversation short. John sensed a discomfort on the girls’s face and immediately engaged a new topic of discussion, distracting them from Chris.

The latter never liked the attention, ever since they were kids, despite the fact that he’s always been under the spotlight: basketball team captain, major of each of his class, good looking, son of a surgeon and a lawyer. A born leader. But it aggravated since they reconnected in college. He immured himself in a heavy silence. In two years, his face didn’t crack for a laugh or a smile. Their way of communication was limited to texts and gazes. John thought that the drastic change was due to an event that occurred during their senior year of high school, where he went MIA. He was tempting to ask questions but knowing the man, John figured he will isolate himself even more.

‘Where is he?’ Malcolm wondered.

‘He left five minutes ago’ John replied.

‘He just got here.’. John raised his eyebrows and glanced successively at the empty seat in front of him and the exit behind him. One of their new friends was also missing.

Her pace was in between running and walking fast. On her way out, she knocked few people’s arms, spitting their drinks on them. When she emerged in the fresh air of October, she found him standing on the sidewalk, his gaze up in the sky. She walked closer to him. Her heels betrayed her ninja’s skills making Chris turn around. They exchanged a long look.

‘Hi!’ She paused, hoping he’d reply, but nothing. She glanced behind her, slightly shook her head with a smile: ‘You’re not staying?’. A breeze blew between them.

‘I don’t like crowds’ he replied. Karen was surprised: first because when his friends described him, they said he doesn’t speak at all. And second because his voice was calm, warm and oddly soft. Another silence settled.

‘Why did you come, then?’ she asked. No answer. She felt her heart pounding against her chest and her palms being a little bit moist: she was anxious. Why? A vibration on her thigh made her jump. She looked down then realized it was her phone. She searched in her handbag, pulled her phone out, stared at the unlocked screen then put it back almost immediately. She looked up at Chris, his hands in his pockets, a hoody covering half of his head and his eyes locked on her. When she showed signs of discomfort, he looked away. Her mind panicked, thinking of ways to decipher the character.

‘Do you need to go back in?’ he asked.

‘No. I don’t feel like it.’ She answered. ‘Do you have some other place to be?’ Chris blanckly stared at her. ‘Can you walk me home?’

 

To be continued.

Name

short story

‘Hé! You!!’ A male voice shouted on my left. I turned to him, my eyes locked on his. ‘Get the fuck off of my grass!’ I looked down at my shoes. The grass he was referring to barely showed up under the dusty ground. I looked up again.

‘What grass?’ He got down of the bleachers and walked furiously toward me. I didn’t flinch. He stopped his course few centimeters away from my face. He was slightly taller than me. His eyes were green-ish, his nose small and pointed, dressed with a teenager’s mustache. A strong and spicy smell of sweat and greasy hair emanated from his entire body. I could smell his breath without him opening it. It stank like a piece of chicken has been left too long in the trash amongst a bottle of old milk and some cheese. He clearly didn’t know the existence of a toothbrush. ‘You mocking me, boy?’ Boy.

‘I have a name, idiot.’ A stare contest began. To intimidate me, he approached his face closer to mine. His muscles tightened. I sensed a circle forming around us. He did too. He lost the contest the moment he gazed around to see his homies ready to hype him up.

Under the pressure, he pushed me. But not hard enough. I made one step back, stretched my right arm behind me, brought it back, closed my fist, pivoted my hips on my left and landed my hand on his chick. As my weight carried me away, i felt his jaw crack and dislocate. Suddenly, louds screams and cheerings raised in the yard. I quickly scanned the crowd: they were clapping, throwing their fist in the air, whistling, yelling unaudible names. They looked like animals claiming their territories. A fist came at me, taking my attention away. I barely dodged, raising more cheers. The fight went on. I didn’t try to hit him again, All i did was to avoid being hit, not even once. My opponent, on the other side, was determined to end me. His face transformed into a unknown creature, showing his teeth out and breathing loudly, as if he lost his humanity. I didn’t understand. How something so vain can lead to this situation?

I’ve been put in jail four months ago after a week in and out of the courthouse. The jury decided without a doubt that i actually beat a man to death. And i did. I don’t deny it. In my opinion, that man deserved it. He had the time of his life when he sneacked into my sister dorm room, made her breathe a tissue filled with chloroform in her sleep, undressed her and took her trust in men away for ever. The police opened a case. A suspect was found but no charges had been held against him.

When i found out who he was, i followed him into a bar. I sat in his voice reach and waited for him to reveal himself. Few liters of alcohol later, i finally knew the reason of his action: he had spotted my sister days earlier and she became an obsession to him. That’s it? He confessed to his friend, who came in shortly after them, every detail of his plan. I didn’t think of recording him. I was disgusted. By his words and his friend’s reaction: a lack of empathy. I waited until he decided to go home. I made my choice. I was committed to waste my freedom in order to give my little sister a sense of relief that justice was done.

The inmate had stamina, the group had grown and the guards looked away. They probably thought that we will kill each other or one of us will fall. One less person to survey, control and feed. They, too, had lost their humanity.

A sudden pain made me stumble. I had enough of this game. I ran to my ennemy and knocked him until he lied still. The guards finally felt concerned and broke up the horde by shooting in the air. One of them checked on the loser and another one tackled me on the ground. He pulled my arms behind my back, cuffed me, pulled me up and dragged me to the isolation section. He knocked me on the head with his gun’s grip. Instantly, i lost consciousness and my body slammed the ground. My brain memorized one sentence before shutting down:

‘Prisoner n°7344, isolation time: two weeks.’

I woke up in the darkness. I lost track of time and space. Every now and then, they opened a small window to pass me food and water. My eyes forgot the colour of light, my hearing and sense of smell were more accurate. I spent most of my time on the bed, holding on my sanity. I will not let them break me. I will not become one of them. ‘I have a name. An identity.’

FML

A day in my mind

11:08. 20th Thursday, 2017. The sun has finally crossed the horizon to light the other side of the Earth. The asian part of humanity. Asia. That reminds me of last september when i went to Tokyo. Weirdest, in a good way, experience of my life so far. Lonelyness at its finest. No knowledge of the language. Barely scratched the surface of the culture. No bearing none what so ever, and above all, no guide to show me around. Internet was a great help. Although, i got lost a couple of times. I was free, kind of.

Back to my appartment. My thoughts vanished. I stared blanckly at the table settled in front of me. The camera caught my attention. Photography. I want to keep on trying to catch fragments of the world as i see it. Well, i’m not there yet. Again, need to pratice. Then the big TV at the end of the room gets my focus, along with the technology surrounding it. On the right, there’s a small jewelry box in shape of my motherland. My mother’s land. Madagascar. Been there as well, last year. Saw the differences what i recall and what it became. Came across insensitive humans and the other half of my DNA. A different kind of loneliness. Oppression and frustation were predominant at that time. Although, emptiness was king. I felt nothing. I moved like a ghost of the child version of myself. Administration pissed me off. Family members pissed me off. They all acted like nothing was happening. Smiles, laughters and social conversations felt inappropriate. Yet, i couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t control them. Insensitive.

I tear up more easily than before. It’s annoying. The pain is annoying. As i lean my head back, my eyes land on comics and illustrations displayed on the wall. I look around at everything i’ve drawn so far. The meaning behind each of them gradually became deeper. Darker. My only catharsis. I need those ideas out of my head. I’m tired of being… incomplete. My chest hurts. I can’t stand this feeling. Tears again. Fuck you, Death.

The Messenger

A day in my life, A day in my mind, Imagination, IRL

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The Messenger | This is a long one | If you have a chance to say one last thing to someone you lost: what would you say?

The lasts scenes were something i personnally lived. Seeing an empty appartment – once again – but this time, the goodbye was slightly different. More like a ‘real farewell’. The kind i didn’t expect to say or feel before i would be very old. Or never, actually. But it happened.

This will also be – hopefully – my lasts drawings about it. I’m moving forward. I can’t stay still forever.

Therapy

A day in my life, A day in my mind, Imagination, Random Thoughts

I waited five minutes before the only door at the end of the hallway opened. A man appeared behind it. A dark suit on with a white shirt and a red tie. I thought it was a bit too dress up for a psychologist. But whatever. I stood up as he greeted me then suggested i enter in his office. The room was pretty large, allowing a desk surrounded by three chairs, a couch and a library to coexist. It was quiet. The closed door isolated us from any sound coming from the outside world. A bubble. Safe and dangerous at the same time. He offered me a seat on the couch, right away. I waited for him to sit first then mimicked him. I sat at the edge, far away from him. I look at him: he had a notebook he already wrote on. When he was done, he looked up to me, gave me a smile then waited. After a long minute, anxiety grew in me.

– ‘What are we supposed to talk about?’ i asked.

– ‘I don’t know. What do you want to talk about?’ he replied.

– ‘Euhm, i don’t know.’

– ‘I see that you keep on looking around. What’s on your mind?’ The remark surprised me. I thought i was subtile. I shook me head and raised my shoulders as an answer. ‘You must be thinking of something.’ he insisted.

I hated those kind of questions: what do you think about? Do you trust me? Well, before you asked me that, i did trust you. Now, i think you’re suspicious. So, no, i don’t. When the psychologist said i must be thinking about something, my mind went blank: i stayed quiet. He looked at his watch. I checked the clock on the wall. Seven minutes has passed.

– ‘So we just let the hour pass in silence?’ I slightly nodded. ‘Why did you came here for, then?’ He asked.

– ‘I was asked to. My brother… asked me to.’

– ‘And you always do what he ask you to do?’

– ‘Not always.’

– ‘Why did you choose to do this?’ I thought about it: i was about to say that i didn’t know, but, obviously, it would end the conversation short.

– ‘I don’t know.’ I said it anyway. ‘By curiosity… I guess’ He wrote it down.

– ‘Just out of curiosity? Do you know why he asked you to come to therapy?’

– ‘Euhm, i guess because he’s going to therapy himself. Maybe he wants me to experience the same thing. So that i can undersand.’

– ‘Understand what?’

– ‘Why he’s going to therapy.’

– ‘And do you understand it?’

– ‘I do.’

– ‘Sounds like you didn’t need this to get it.’ I smiled. ‘And why do you think he’s going to therapy?’ I took a minute.’Do you think you need it too?’ I remained silent. ‘How are you doing?’

– ‘I’m good.’ Another question that i hated.

– ‘That doesn’t sound like an honest answer.’

– ‘It didn’t sound like an honest question.’

– ‘Do you think i’m a dishonest person?’

– ‘No. I just think it’s… not a sincere question.’

– ‘Why do you think that?’ I sighed. ‘Tell me.’

– ‘Usually, when people ask that question, they don’t really want to know how the other person is doing. All they want to hear is ‘yes, i’m doing well’. Whether they are a good person or an asshole.’

– ‘What makes you think that?’

– ‘Just…Observation.’ My lips were sealed. He let go of a smile.

– ‘What if i’m really interested in knowing your state? What would be your answer?’

– ‘I’m good.’

– ‘Same answer. Why?’

– ‘Because i am.’

– ‘You don’t open up to people much, do you?’ I looked at him straight in the eyes.’Why is that?’

– ‘No special reason.’ He smiled again. He let a moment pass.

– ‘Tell me: why now?’ I didn’t understand. ‘I’ve been following your brother for few weeks, now. He told me about you, a few times. He told me he asked you many times to come before. So why now? What changed your mind?’

– ‘…It’s her birthday, soon.’ i whispered.

– ‘Your mother’s?’ I nodded. ‘When is it?’

– ‘Friday.’

– ‘And you felt like you needed to talk to someone? How do you feel about it?’ A ghost passed by. ‘What are you going to do that day?’

– ‘I don’t know. Probably nothing.’

– ‘Are you going to meet with your brother?’

– ‘Probably not. I don’t feel like being around people…’

– ‘You feel better on your own?’ I shyly smiled, my look was stuck on the carpet. ‘What are you doing when you’re alone?’

– ‘I stay busy: watching shows, videos, drawing, listening to music…’

– ‘Drawing? What kind of drawing?’

– ‘Euhm, whatever comes to my mind.’

– ‘What was your last drawing?’

– ‘A photography that was taken when i was smaller. I think.’

– ‘You think?’

– ‘I’m not sure that picture truly exists or it’s just a memory i made for myself.’

– ‘You don’t have it?’ I shook my head. ‘What was it?’

– ‘It’s my mom and i in front of our old house. She’s, sort of, leaning on me.’

– ‘So you recreated it?’ I nodded. ‘You think about her often?’

– ‘Every day. Every time i do something, i think about calling her, telling her everything.. But i can’t. Not anymore.’ I paused. Then a laugh slipped as tears blurred my sight.

– ‘What’s funny?’

– ‘Euhm, i…now that she’s gone, i want to talk to her. But, before…I didn’t have anything to tell her. That’s just… that’s just… fucking dumb…I’m an…hyprocrite.’

– ‘Why do you think that?’

– ‘I don’t feel like i have the right to… feel this way.’

– ‘You mean being sad?’ I nodded. ‘You know it’s human. You just lost someone you loved.’ As i satyed quiet, he continued: ‘Why do you feel like you don’t have the rights to be sad?’

– ‘I’ve never… I haven’t shown her my affection. I was cold and mean to her… I rejected her.’ A tear dropped on my hands.

– ‘It’s not your fault, if she’s…’ The psychologist’s sentence faded away.

 

Dumb sentence. I closed my eyes when that thought immerged in my mind. I took few seconds to recollect myself. Then when i opened them, i found myself at my desk, a dozen of files to work on for the day. Noises from the background gently arrived to my ears: people talking, laughing, greeting each other, sounds of printers, computers starting, keybord being smashed by cafeinated fingers. Suddenly, a closer voice pulled me out of that confusing state between reality and dream: ‘Are you ok?’ I looked at my left and saw my co-worker’s concerned face. I realized that my eyes were filled with salty liquid and my chicks were wet. My heart was pounding and my throat closed on itself. I opened my mouth to answer but words couldn’t get through. I stood up, apologized rudly and walked as fast and as discretly as possible to the bathroom.

As soon as i locked myself, i broke down. Fucking imagination…

Time (3)

Time

‘Pfff….Pfhahahahahahahahahahaha!! You’re kidding, right? Right? Oh no, you’re serious?’ Simo stared at his friend, his face as serious as it could get. Ezekhiel stayed quiet for seconds, he tried to contain his laugther. ‘I don’t care if you don’t believe me.’ Simo said as he turned his back and left the room. Those last words resonated in Ezekhiel’s ears. He reacted as fast as he could and grabbed Simo’s arm before he disappeared. Time froze. Ezekhiel’s mind was transported to his eighth year of life. He was standing in the middle of a baseball field, surrounded by other kids his age. Bats were thrown on the ground, particules of sand flew in the air. Ezekhiel looked upset: he gesticulated violently towards the group that kept its smile. Despite the fact that kid Ezekhiel was screaming his lungs out, no sound resonated. Ezekhiel had a spam and felt something between his fingers. He turned his head and saw Simo looking at him straight in the eyes. A strange feeling spread in Ezekhiel’s body, when a wave of dioxygen disturbed the atmosphere, followed by another one. And another one. Until the frequencies aligned perfectly: ‘BACK OFF!’ Kid Simo shouted. All of the other kids shut up. They stepped backward as Simo walked in between Ezekhiel and them. ‘Pff, it’s not funny anymore.’ one of them said before leaving. ‘They said…my…my father’s dead…’ Kid Ezekhiel confessed, tears flowing on his chicks. ‘They’re…they’re lying! He’s… He just left. He said he’ll be back! He said he’ll be back!’ Sobs didn’t allow silence to settle in. ‘He said: he’ll come back.’ The calm gained the boy’s mind and body. A urge to scream grew in him, but more tears came out instead. Ezekhiel remembered that feeling: being at the edge of facing the hard truth of reality. ‘I know.’ Kid Simo’s voice pierced Kid Ezekhiel’s thoughts. Simo turned around: ‘. I believe you. He’s gonna come back.’

As he let go of his friend’s arm, Ezekhiel found himslef back in his room. He gazed around then put his eyes on Simo’s. They stood in silence for a couple of minutes. Simo looked astonished and yet excited. Ezekhiel understood then: ‘I believe you.’

 

To be continued