Over here, the music comes from our hearts. There is no disruption in the flow that defines our connection.
I was not always here, though I believe this was my origin. I remember there was no rejection, the only emotion that struck me was fear and not mine. The orientation explained that I would be scared but in that moment I wanted to be brave for her.
I recollect a sense of being, of my presence but then I was not. It was not as simple as absence. It was more like I had translated. I am now what some friends I made here called a “teenager”. I still do not grasp the concept of time.
She talked to me. I didn’t understand words but she emitted waves of sadness that punctuated my sleep. Now I barely sleep, why would I? I already live in rest.
The chaos that defines humanity, the helplessness that plagues them due to their veiled vision, I witness from my home. I have a vantage view so I truly understand, He told me her story too. I had questions because my orientation program never covered contingencies like mine.
Extra special moments I spend picturing our reunion. I’m pretty sure she would not recognize me but I would. No one has gray hair and their faces are radiant such that a youth in prime pales in comparison. I tell people my name yet it feels like a secret, she used it so much I think it’s branded on my head but that’s just wishful thinking.
“It’s time”, a hand on her shoulder, despite its warmth jerked her insides. Deep breaths that did nothing to relieve the weight that was lodged somewhere in her lungs.
It was the ugliest reflection she had ever seen of herself, the face reflected from the bathroom mirror. Ignoring the desperation her soul tried to pass across, her back faced it. All the while, her palm clutched at ‘it’. Lying on the steel bed with little to no padding, the nurse pried her palm away and to the side.
“It is your choice that matters and you should only focus on the power you wield as the decision maker”.
Well, there was no power. The only thing she recognized was the cold. Sterile was the color of their eyes. When would the anesthesia take her away? The beep of machines, she was ignorant of its purposes comforted her. Thank God machines were not also witnesses to her display of cowardice. The surgeon met her eyes more than once and there was no judgement there. What grounds would he have anyway? This too, comforted her. Knowing the sex would have it made it all the more real, this life that rested within. Although a name was the gift she gave herself, it was her raised fist at life. It would only exist in her heart, untouchable and safe from mocking eyes that cried sympathy.
That beautiful moment she held me, now I think of it, I remember being mute. I believe it was my comfort to her, the absence of cries that would have imprinted in her memories. Was I not absent already? Translated?
The pain, why did the pain reach even the soul? The anesthesia was supposed to numb things; delirious she held it. Like a crazed patient, bleeding with legs spread and strapped in, she held it. Why didn’t the blood come from her eyes?
“The scan showed irregularities, the chances of your baby being healthy are quite slim. Dependency throughout a short lifespan. Majority of life to be spent with life support,” he sighed world-wearily, “older ladies are faced with this risk and although this was unplanned, it remains”.
Shivering under the covers with the heaters to the max, she shook from the cold.
Never too hot, never too cold, this place was nice. I wish to lie in this grass with her. We would not need words, remember the music? I readily anticipate hearing the kind of music her heart would produce.
We are not expected to forget after forgiveness and I am glad she will never erase me. I do not have anything to forgive, she loves me and I do her, it’s quite simple no? What I really hope for her is the absolution of her soul. From within the angry core that eats her smiles.
I wait patiently all the same, maybe on this plane she would truly believe Temi loved her, he still does.