Felix Yz

by Lisa Bunker

  Mom: [in her dry Mom voice] Which melted when we tried to wash them out. Should have used cold water.

  Grandy: Should have just jumped in the lake.

  Bea: The cone got gross by the second day, though. I put it in the freezer, and the jimmies all kinda stuck together in a mass. It was like a psychedelic baby hedgehog died in there.

  Grandy: Psychedelic baby hedgehog. Excellent.

  Me: I like jimmies.

  Mom: They are very colorful, aren’t they? And very nibblable.

  Grandy: [bouncing a little and grinning, which vo does when vo has thought of something vo’s really pleased with] Inimitably nibblable!

  All right, I guess that’s enough. That’s what it’s like all the time at our house. Zyx, I’m surprised that you can understand anything at all.

  understand love

  Oh gack. You didn’t.

  is true

  Yeah, OK, whatever.

  Still 2 Days to Go

  Now it is late night again, and we’re home, and I’m just typing a little about how the rest of the day went before I go to sleep.

  All that there really is to say is that we had fun. All of us together. We walked through the Common and it was really warm and some of the trees were starting to leaf out. Then we had dinner in a fancy restaurant with a candle on the table and I had this amazing dessert, a piece of chocolate cake, which compared to chocolate cake I have had before was like a real volcano next to a science-fair volcano. It had this huge orange flower on it—Mom said it was a daylily—and they had dusted confectioners’ sugar over it, so when you picked the flower up, its shadow was left behind. The flower, the shadow of the flower, and the sugar between—threes everywhere! And the person who waited on us said I could eat the flower, so I did, and it tasted like pepper.

  Then we went to this club that Mom had found on the ’net, and there was a hassle at the door because the guy said that Bea and I were too young to get in, but Grandy did this thing like out of a movie where vo took the guy over to the side and whispered to him and actually handed him a bill, and the guy came back and let us in and when I passed him he gave me a look and a nod, so I knew Grandy must have told him the Story. Which bugged me for a second, but then I thought, Hey, for why we’re here, it’s true.

  We sat at a little table with another candle on it, and Mom and Grandy had drinks and Bea and I had soft drinks, and then the band came out. There were four of them: piano, bass, drums, and sax. They sat down and shuffled around and the sax player tooted and bleeped a little and fiddled with her mouthpiece, and then they looked at each other and did a big nod all together and started to play.

  And now I have sat here for five minutes without being able to say anything about the music. Actually, what I’ve been doing is, and I wish there was a way to type this, I’ve been singing saxophone, and Zyx has been playing drums with my hands. Which I guess makes us a duo. Cool.

  jazz pretty

  Yep, maybe that’s all there is to say. Except it’s so much more than that. It was like, there were all these different colors in the air. And the four musicians, they were talking to each other through the music, and sometimes they were all serious, but other times they were actually telling jokes. I’ve never laughed at music before. I mean, laughed because it was funny. But it was funny.

  You know, the black and red, they’re still down in here somewhere. But now it’s like there’s also a separate inner me, standing on an empty plain under a dark sky in the middle of my soul, but not minding, because I’m playing a sax solo, and I’m grooving on it, and it just feels so sweet to be down inside the music like that.

  OK, I almost erased that last sentence, thinking, *eye-roll*, but no. I wrote it, and there it is, and there it is going to stay.

  Oh, and speaking of writing, I forgot to mention, Mom’s phone rang while we were walking across the Common, and it was Ms. C calling to say that my threeness essay won first prize in the essay contest. I made a really loud whoop! noise and did a victory dance, which my family joined me in, so we were all hopping around under the trees.

  The awards ceremony is in two weeks. Even with the black and red constantly lurking around, that makes me laugh.

  And one other thing. I checked Novaglyph just now, and I can’t tell for sure, but I think maybe Ash put me in the comic. Just a figure in the background, walking, but it looks like me—all hunched over, and the hair and clothes are right. And I’m pretty sure her turnaround is only about a week, so it has been long enough. If she did, Nelson, how cool is that? But also, people could still be looking at the picture when … when … no. Not going there. Not. Going. There.

  Not.

  It’s really really late. I have to sleep now. How can I? But, yeah, I’m tired. Sleep.

  1 Day to Go

  Tomorrow is ZeroDay.

  So what I’m doing now is, I’m typing because it’s something different to do besides freak and bolt.

  I am all by myself in a hospital room, dressed in one of those closes-in-the-back robes, and I’m hungry and thirsty because I haven’t had anything to eat or drink except little measured-out amounts of water since this morning, and I’m lonely. Lonely. How can such strong feels fit inside one word? I’m lonely because I had to say goodbye to Grandy and Bea and Mom. I’m not going to see them again until after … if …

  And, I’m back. What’s the use of crying? This is going to happen. There’s no stopping it now. Keep calm, Felix. Write.

  Yes, I am lonely. I am also completely hairless. Zoe, this really nice nurse, put an extra sheet on my bed, which is one of those fancy hospital beds that they’ve scrunched up so it’s like being in my chair, and then she had me take off all my clothes and lie down, and she put another sheet over me. Then she uncovered different parts of me again and calmly shaved off every hair on my entire body. She saved the parts parts for last and I thought I would be horribly embarrassed, but she was so business-as-usual about it, it wasn’t so bad. I looked in the mirror after, and I look like a nine-year-old war orphan or something, all smooth and pale. And my face without eyebrows looks like someone else’s face, and now the sheets feel slippery. It’s strange.

  Anyway.

  So we had to get up super early again because of taking the extra day for the field trip. I felt like I had only just gotten to sleep when Mom shook my shoulder, but I cracked through the pain of the Pose—no lockup for several days now, although this morning was close—and pulled on some clothes and zombie-shuffled out to the car. It was still completely dark. I buckled myself in and fell back asleep and didn’t wake up until we stopped for gas, by which point the sun was well up. The sky was hazy white and the sun was like the pimple of greatest glare in a giant ocean of glare, and, Mother Hubbard, my brain is tired. We got to the Facility right on time. Gate up, drive in, park, and then they took us to the apartment where Mom and Grandy and Bea are staying while this happens, and me too when it is over.

  Yeah, when. No “if” this time. What’s the point? We all know it’s there, so why keep saying it? That “if” up there near the start of this entry, that’s the last one.

  So then we just had to hang out for a while. Everyone was hungry, but they were waiting until Dr. Yoon came to take me away for tests so that I wouldn’t have to sit there watching them eat. I wasn’t allowed to eat anything myself, so that was nice of them. There were a few games and such, including a jigsaw puzzle, brand-new, shrink-wrap still on the box. It was a picture of a house in the Netherlands with a boat and a windmill. Bea and I broke it open and started sorting out the straight edges, arguing about who was going to get to do the vanes of the windmill. Grandy sat and read, and Mom unpacked and fussed around, sitting down and then getting up and sitting down again somewhere else, all the time tying her fingers into knots. Finally she came over and helped sort pieces. Then Dr. Yoon was there and I had to go.

  This was just a checkup, not the having-to-say-good-bye part yet, so I went with her and got poked and probed and sampled. It was o
n the no-fun side of boring, except everyone was really kind, especially Dr. Yoon.

  So, tests done, I get back to the apartment, and they’ve had lunch and cleaned up everything after, except someone forgot a carton of orange juice on the counter and when I see it my mouth goes Sproing! and Bea whisks it into the fridge with a “sorry” look. I give her back an “it’s OK” nod. We all know this is how it has to be.

  Then, more hanging out, waiting. We get the straight edges done except for one we missed, over in the trees on the right side. It bugs me, but I don’t want to go back through all thousand pieces again looking for it, or whatever’s left of the thousand, anyway, after all but one of the straight edges are taken out. And then Dr. Yoon is there again and says gently, “Felix, it’s almost time. I’ll be back in about five minutes, and then we have to go,” and she steps out again.

  So I stand up from the puzzle table, and everyone else stands up too, and there’s this awkward moment while we all stand there looking at each other, and then Grandy comes over without saying anything and wraps veir arms around me and holds me tight. Vo’s in Vera mode, it being Tuesday, and the ruffles on veir blouse tickle the side of my face. I can feel from veir body that vo is crying … I am crying … just assume there’s lots of crying, OK? After a bit vo holds me apart again a little, veir hands on my shoulders, and says, “Vercingetorix.”

  “What?”

  “Vercingetorix. That’s what my parents named me.”

  I have no idea how to put all the feels I am feeling into words, so what I say is, “What kind of name is that?” Not mean—just asking.

  “It’s the name of a famous Gaulish chieftain who threw down his arms at Julius Caesar’s feet after he was defeated by the power and glory that was Rome.”

  “So … so you’re an Yz by birth.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were born a boy.”

  “I was born with a male body, yes.”

  “You’re my father’s father.”

  “Biologically speaking, yes.”

  We look at each other, and then I drop my eyes because I suddenly feel, I don’t know, embarrassed? Bashful? It’s weird.

  Vo says softly, “Father, mother, parent. Does it really matter?”

  I look back up. “No. Not really.” Vo takes me in veir arms again and we hold each other another little time, and then I think of something and say, “Um, tomorrow is Wednesday, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your day … What about your day? Will you … ?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

  Not that it matters—really, it doesn’t—but I still can’t help the questioning look.

  Grandy smiles sadly and says, “Vera. In the end, if I had to choose for good and all, I think it would be Vera. But luckily I don’t have to choose.” Then, “I love you, Felix. Good luck.”

  I’ve always had a hard time actually saying those words, but this time it’s easy. “I love you too.”

  Vo nods, then tips veir head a little to one side and says, “Goodbye, *zyxilef. We’ll miss you.” And Zyx makes me twitch, just once.

  You wanted to say goodbye.

  yes

  Or you did say goodbye. That was your way of saying it.

  yes

  Yes. So then Grandy steps away, and it’s Bea’s turn.

  This is getting harder and harder to write about.

  OK, so mostly just hugs and wet cheeks, not much talking. The last thing she says is: “You better not die in that machine, little brother. If you die, I’m going to kill you.”

  And then Mom … and you know what, never mind writing about that. And then Dr. Yoon comes in again with Zoe and a wheelchair, and they tell me to sit down and then they wheel me away.

  So then the full-body shave I already described, and this other business to clear out my insides, which was gross and painful and which I really don’t need to go into detail about. Then Zoe comes in with a pill and says I have to take it to help me sleep, and I say, Wait a minute, I have to do my writing, and she says OK, but it has to be soon, so I have been typing this as fast as I can.

  The only other thing is Hector. I want so bad to open a window and see if he’s there, but I can’t quite make myself do it. I keep hovering the cursor, but he said, “Message me after,” so it feels awkward. And anyway, I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. I feel like if I reconnect, I might completely fall apart. So, better not.

  I asked them to wake me up early enough so I can type one more time before the Procedure, so, one more entry after this. And I asked Bea to record what actually happens—she has a little handheld recorder she uses when she practices. So after, depending … well, either I’ll type it out, or someone else might. So, that will be here.

  Zyx, how are you doing?

  question mark

  How do you feel?

  feel here now always

  Doesn’t anything get you down, ever?

  not understand

  Never mind. Are you ready?

  yes

  I guess I am too. Ready as I’ll ever be. OK, Zoe is back. Time to take this pill. Good night.

  ZeroDay

  Up until now I haven’t really been too worried about how much it has been starting to hurt in the morning. There was that one lockup I couldn’t get out of by myself, but then it seemed to get better again.

  Just now was different. I woke up because Dr. Yoon was shaking my shoulder and calling my name. I made a noise and I felt her hand go away again, leaving me lying there, trying to get my brain to work. It was like no time had passed since I’d closed my eyes. I felt stupid and heavy. The pill, I guess. Head full of cotton balls.

  After a minute I went to push aside the covers, and I realized I couldn’t move. At all. My whole body felt jammed, and then it started to hurt, more and more, quickly. It felt like a giant steel spring winding tighter and tighter, knotting all my muscles up, and pretty soon I was going to shatter into thousands of bloody shards. I tried to call for help, but my throat was locked, and all of a sudden even breathing felt like lifting the back end of a car.

  Then a moment came when I couldn’t breathe at all, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest, like the next time it wasn’t going to be able to beat. And then … well, then it got a little better again. I don’t know why. I scraped in a breath, and another, and my muscles unwound enough that I was able to move. And my heart kept beating, obviously, but each beat felt like someone hitting me on the sternum with a hammer—still does—and I was shaking and covered with sweat and everything hurt. Zyx, you must have felt that, right?

  yes

  Do you know what it was?

  not know how say

  But you know.

  …

  Gah, sometimes I wish you were better at words. Are you OK? Did it hurt you too?

  no yes

  You mean no, you’re not OK, and yes, it hurt?

  yes

  You’ve never said that before. Never said anything about pain or hurt.

  stuck not dance

  I don’t know what you mean.

  stuck not dance no joy zyx hold now procedure now

  Um, do I understand you right? You’re doing something to keep me alive?

  yes

  And it hurts?

  not dance

  And you need the Procedure to happen as soon as possible.

  yes

  Um, OK. Hang on.

  …

  We can’t rush it, but we’re almost there.

  …

  Um, yeah. Fast as we can.

  And, there’s not much left to tell. Dr. Yoon didn’t come back, but the nurse did. It’s not Zoe, it’s the nurse from the final fitting. Nidal. He’s nice, but I wish Zoe were here. He just made me go to the bathroom one last time, even though I had almost nothing to go, and then he said he’s coming back in a minute to give me a shot that will make me start to go to sleep, and then they will wheel me out and put me in the Apparatus and give me another s
hot to knock me out, and then I will either wake up again or I won’t.

  How can words possibly …

  Simple. Just say.

  I’m scared of dying.

  And I’m scared of not dying. I’m scared of waking up and Zyx being gone. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can live without ven. Just live like any other kid. Zyx, what am I going to do without you?

  live dance do be joy

  Yes. That’s right. I want to try. I want to live. I want so badly to live. I want to take saxophone lessons. I want to learn to play chess, for real this time. I want to throw a straw at Bea the next time she needs it—she always has for me. I want to take Hector on a trust walk. I want to finish Jarq. I want to live.

  So. Zyx. I guess this is goodbye.

  yes

  And, um … I don’t think I’ve ever said this before. Sorry. Zyx, I’m sorry.

  question mark

  I’m so sorry. Not just for your pain now. For everything. For my dad doing what he did. Getting us stuck. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. And, gah, I can’t see to type, and there’s no time to go into the bathroom.

  no worries

  No fair, stop making me laugh!

  question mark

  Nelson. Mother Hubbard. Zyx. I’m going to miss you so much.

  here now all one all times

  Yeah, I know, we’re all interconnected in the infinite afterglow tracery web of the hurtling Is particle.

  yes

  And that was your last chance to understand sarcasm. Hopeless.

  …

  Or maybe it’s not sarcasm. Because, I do feel that in some way you’ll always be with me.

  yes

  Yes. OK. Goodbye.

  …

  Thank you.

  …

  Zyx, I love you.

  zyx love felix

  Yes.

  OK.

  Bye.

  I want my mom. And I want my dad. I wish so bad he was still alive. And you know what? When Hector kissed me, I should have kissed him back. I should have told him that I love him, too, right there in front of the house.

  Well, I’ll just have to tell him after. Here’s Nidal.