“No, I was…” Jack hesitated. “…to attend a funeral.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“That’s okay. But I rather not talk about it.”
36 HELL
Just another day
There’s a fly on the ceiling. It moves back and forth, and I can’t help looking at it. The fly almost distracts me from the pain I’m in. I try to adjust my body, but I can’t move. My body doesn’t comply with my attempts. The waves keep coming. Waves and waves of agonizing pain.
I’m not present. I’m somewhere else. Even if the pain is present, my mind is elsewhere. Nothing’s real anymore. Dreaming is the little joy I have left in life. Whenever I dream, I’m somewhere else, and not trapped in this bed. But as soon as I wake up, I realize I’m still trapped in my own version of hell.
I wish they’d kill me, grant me the honor of dying. But, instead, they nurture me. They’re making an effort to preserve my body. They wash me with a sponge, and they insist on shaving my legs. They each have their own routines, and their own schedules, but my day never changes. Every day is the same.
Oh, how I hope to die during the night.
Sometimes, they actually speak to me. But usually, they speak about me. Either way, they never address me as a person. They don’t view me as a human being. To them, I am something else. I’m not a person anymore. I’m only alive to please others. I don’t have any other function in life.
Oh, how I wish they’d let me die, and put me out of my misery.
But I’m not blaming them for my misfortune. I brought this on myself. Every day I wake up furious with myself. I try to forgive myself, show leniency toward myself. But I never forgive myself.
I had one life, and I ruined it.
I don’t remember when it was, but I remember seeing the truck.
37 THE SIGN
Sunday morning
George’s throat felt dry from reading the letter out loud to his sister. The letter didn’t sound like anything a brother would have written; it sounded like something a public relations manager had written. However, the lack of authenticity didn’t stop his mother from crying her eyes out while stroking his sister’s hair in a nurturing and frantic manner. His father, however, didn’t cry at all, and he hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire visit.
His father kept staring at the face of the lifeless manikin who once was George’s sister. But then, suddenly, his father averted his eyes, and instead focused on the television mounted on the wall.
The whole scene made him nauseous, and George asked himself if he really knew any of the people in this room. He certainly didn’t understand any of them.
“Luke,” his father said in a thick Japanese accent while pointing at the television.
As George read the letters on the television, he felt even more nauseous.
38 THE MOTHER
Sunday morning
Julie struggled to get the pine needles out of her hair. At first, Jack didn’t pay much attention to her. But when she put her hair up, he wouldn’t stop staring at her.
“Do I have something in my hair?”
“No, it looks fine.”
“Yeah. Sure, it does.”
Jack kept eyeing Julie.
“What?” Julie sounded concerned.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“I don’t mind,” Julie said. “I just wondered why.”
“It’s just that you remind me of someone else wearing your hair like that.”
“You mean the ponytail?” Julie pulled her hair to the side, across her shoulder. “Well, who do I remind you of? An old girlfriend? A high school sweetheart who got away?”
“Actually, you remind me of my mother.”
“Oh really.” Julie sighed.
“Yes, there is something about you that keeps reminding me of her. I can’t place my finger on it, though.”
Julies made a face. “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you wouldn’t kiss me the other day.”
“No, that’s not why.”
Julie’s smile quickly vanished. “Why then?”
“It wasn’t genuine, Julie.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was obvious you didn’t really want to kiss me.”
“Then why do you think I tried to kiss you?” Julie looked startled.
“Why do you think you wanted to kiss me?”
“Spare me the psychology and just answer the question,” Julie said harshly.
“Okay.” Jack raised his palms. “Your mind can be quite deceitful, Julie. It’s hard to distinguish between impressions and emotions.”
“I told you to spare me the psycho mumbo-jumbo, Jack.”
“You’re out here all alone, and you can’t walk. You feel scared and vulnerable. But when I come along, that anxiety goes away. And when I leave, the anxiety returns. Therefore, you will feel a longing to be with me because it’s feels good to be around me.”
“So, you didn’t want to take advantage of me. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“You’re a good man, Jack,” Julie said. “I think you’re my guardian angel and sent to earth to protect me.”
“I’ll get you home to your boy, Julie. I promise, no matter what.”
“When this is all over, then perhaps the three of us can go out for pizza, and get to know each other better. My son could sure use a male role model in his life,” Julie said, and put her hand on Jack’s forearm.
“I’d like that very much. We can all go out for pizza—with worms on it.”
“No, with ham and pepperoni,” Julie blurted out, sounding childish.
Afternoon
They kept a faster pace than the previous days since the terrain was flatter. They kept walking southwest. Jack stopped to rest and find something to eat. He pulled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows, and began turning over rocks. Julie sat on her jacket, her hair band was on her wrist.
“My hair is such a mess.”
Jack didn’t respond to Julie’s remark. He just kept consuming whatever came his way in a rapid motion and without any hesitation.
“I wish I had a hairbrush.”
Jack kept turning rocks.
“I don’t usually look like such a mess.”
Jack straightened his back. “I think you look just fine. Lovely.”
Julie smiled, and her focus fell to the ground. “I’m not used to compliments.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Jack said and turned another rock.
Julie looked suspicious. “I’m serious. I don’t get a lot of compliments.”
Jack smiled and shook his head slightly. “I’m not buying it, Julie.”
“No, it’s true, Jack,” Julie responded. “Even as a child, I never got any compliments. No one ever told me they loved me or even gave me a pat on the back. And no one ever stood up for me. I had to make it all on my own.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Julie.”
There was an awkward pause as the two of them looked at each other; each one as humble as the other. Then Jack suddenly flinched and slapped his forearm.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think a mosquito got me,” Jack responded. “I can’t remember the last time I got a mosquito bite.”
“That’s because you smoke, Jack. They can’t stand the cigarette smoke.”
“Yet people say nothing good ever comes from smoking.”