“Are you okay?” he asks. Everyone keeps asking me this, even though I showed no sign that I’m not okay.
I nod.
“Phoenix, would you like to talk to Kai? He’s been asking about you,” Dad asks, placing a pillow behind me. My heart skips a beat.
Kai.
I don’t want to see him, and I can’t seem to explain the emotion inside me. I feel anger and ugliness each time Kai is mentioned in front of me, and I just want them to stop talking about him. It makes me uneasy. Why can’t they see that? But I hate seeing the expression on Dad’s face each time I don’t do or say things that they were expecting.
“Okay, I’ll talk to him.”
I look up to see his smile. He kisses my forehead before leaving the room.
The loneliness and silence of the room whisper mockingly at my physical state, and I clear my throat to shatter the silence. My guitar, which Madison brought back from Kai when I came home, is on the bed, so I grab it and try to think of a song that I used to know.
Lyrics?
Melody?
The chords?
Jogging my memory in vain for minutes, all I get back is broken pieces of poetry. Even though I didn’t lose my memory from the accident, Sanaa had warned me that sometimes I’ll have difficulty remembering things properly, and now I can’t seem to remember the songs that I wrote.
The door opens, and Madison comes in. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Her gaze falls on the guitar, and her lips spread in a wonderful smile. That smile reminds me of the girl who used to look at me with glee in her eyes each time I’d sing her a song before bed. Madison’s expression raises goose bumps, and a familiar feeling hits me.
“Are you singing?” Madison asks, pointing at the guitar.
I shake my head. “I can’t remember any songs.” They’re just pieces in my head.
I expect to see pity in her eyes, and I prepare myself to control my anger, but instead, Madison rolls her eyes and jumps on the bed. “Fuck the old songs, sing a new one.”
Well, at least her attitude hasn’t changed. “I don’t know any new ones.” I shrug.
Madison shakes her head. “I mean, write a new one.”
I’m not sure whether I can write a new song. Hell, I’m not even sure if words will come to my mind. When I first gained consciousness, the words stopped or danced in my head whenever I tried to speak. Now I can speak. But there are times when I can’t find the right words. My therapist, Sanaa, says that it’s just a phase and it will be okay soon. One month has gone and soon is still not here.
Releasing a long breath, I place the guitar on the bed. “I’m not sure I c-can.”
Madison smiles softly. “Phoenix, tell me how you used to write lyrics.”
Damn, talking about the past makes my head ache, but I take a calm breath and say, “Hmm … I … I write what … I think what comes to my mind.”
“Okay, so you think about a certain thing. Like, do you have a muse, or maybe when you watch something?” Madison asks, her eyes holding so much faith in me.
“I will … God, I have no idea. Normally some-thing will … come into my mind and … I’ll jot it … and then … and then … later I’ll work …” My hand moves and makes a circle, showing her around, around, around. Pressure builds inside me, making my neck heat as I try to find the word.
“Around it,” Madison provides, and I exhale.
“Yes, around it.”
“Cool, so write what’s coming to your mind then,” she suggests, getting up from the bed and grabbing my notepad and a pen. “There. Write in here.”
My fingers make an extra effort to keep the pen firm between my fingers. I have regular physiotherapy sessions where I’m given massages to loosen my muscles, but a simple gesture of holding a pen reminds me how much things have changed.
With unblinking eyes, I look down at the blank notepad, allowing doubt to slither in my mind. I know that I have done this many times before, but I can’t shake the doubt. The pen’s tip touches the paper, and I start to write the words shaping in my head, even though they’re not lyrics, and just a sentence in disorder—I scribble them down.
Don’t forget me while I sleep because I’m …
I can’t find the word!
“That’s okay,” Madison says. My gaze lifts to hers, and I realize that I spoke that feeling out loud. “Just leave a blank like you used to when you knew that there was a better word that’d fit.”
Madison’s right, I used to do that in the past, but somehow not getting a word now feels different. Irritating, annoying. An itch to peel that frustration off my neck—it’s there, poking me.
Don’t forget me while I sleep because I’m ________ to wake up.
I stare at what I just wrote. It’s something that I know I wished to say out loud when I was still in the coma.
Madison leans toward the notepad, reading my scrawl. “It’s for Kai, isn’t it?” she asks, her eyes turning lax.
A blow strikes my heart, and I close the notepad. Was it for Kai? No. No—it wasn’t. “It’s j-just a line that came to my mind, I … I wasn’t th-thinking about any-one,” I grumble, feeling empty and scared—like something is missing inside me.
Madison narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything. I hate that she doesn’t speak. It means she considers me a vulnerable person whom she’s not allowed to hurt. Someone, she can’t tell the truth to. I hate it.
And for a brief moment—I hate her.
This is not how Madison and I used to be. She used to tell me anything that came to her mind, but now she treats me like an invalid. It’s like she’s hitting a hammer and creating a crack in our relationship.
I want her to go away.
“I’m feeling … sleepy now,” I say, removing my glasses and placing them on the table. Shifting my body weight with my arms, I slip under the sheets, with the back brace still on me, and close my eyes. I sense her staring at me, but I don’t move.
She exhales and leaves the room.
Lying on the bed, I try to stop grinding my teeth. I have no idea why I feel so angry. Seconds pass, and I’m still angry. Minutes pass, and I’m still angry. Maybe hours pass …
And I’m still angry!
Quietness finally settles in the house, so I flip on the lamp near the bed and put my glasses back on. I take out my notepad and start writing again.
My wings were shackled
Fly, fly, fly – I couldn’t
Years ______ in a lonely town.
Years ______ ______ lived.
My colorful dreams were lost in the dark
I slept, slept waiting _______ wake me up
Each breath I took without you
The years I lost dreaming,
A dream only of breathing …
I stop.
Pain travels from my fingers to my arm, and my hand trembles as I use the other hand to stop it from shaking. My fingers won’t allow me to write anymore.
I read what I wrote a thousand times and try to get the missing words to come out—but nothing. Resentment bubbles inside me, and I throw the notepad across the room, dropping my glasses on the nightstand. It was a fucking stupid idea to write again.
Getting rid of the back brace, I close my eyes. I need the darkness to take me back. I need sleep to claim me again.
CHAPTER 17
KAI
Something’s wrong.
It’s been a month since Phoenix returned from the hospital and I haven’t heard a word from her. Her various tests and therapies consume most of her time, I understand this, but she hasn’t replied to any of my messages—not one.
The doorbell rings.
“Kai, honey, please get the door,” Mom shouts from the kitchen. Greg asked me to come to our parents’ home because today he’s delivering the big news. Setting my frustrated thoughts aside, I rush to open the door. A grinning Greg stands on the other side, with his arm around Sophia’s shoulder.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Gr
eg pulls me into a hug. Not an affectionate hug, more like a life-taking hug. This is how Greg shows he cares—by being an irritating ass. My muscles flex, and I push him away. “What? You can’t accept a nice hug from your brother?” Greg slaps me on the back and moves to greet Mom.
I turn my attention to Sophia and kiss her cheek. “How are you?”
“Great. Better than Greg anyway,” she says, shaking her head.
Her response makes me chuckle. “I bet he stopped a dozen times to piss?”
“He did, and he chewed my brain all the way here. He’s worried about what your parents will say. I feel like I should be the one getting nervous, and he should be the one consoling me.”
Our laughter attracts Mom’s attention. “Sophia,” Mom calls, prompting my future sister-in-law to go greet them. Sophia and Greg have been together for years now. Everyone knows that they’re going to get married someday, so I have no idea why Greg’s stressing himself out.
We gather at the table for breakfast and Greg hasn’t stopped blabbering since we sat down. “Son, why are you so nervous?” Dad asks, and we all look at Greg, waiting for his answer.
Greg plasters a fake smile on his face and grips his hair. He’s about to lose it. We can all feel it, so Sophia drops the bomb.
“Greg and I are getting married. In three months.”
Silence follows the news. While Greg is looking at Sophia like she sprouted another head, Mom and Dad sit frozen. God, no one’s moving.
“That’s great,” I say, breaking the tension. I stand to hug my brother.
“Wow,” Dad breathes, lapsing out of his shock while Mom sits still, looking at Greg through watered eyes.
“Three months? You’re getting married in three months?” Mom whispers as tears roll down her cheeks. She grips Dad’s hand and blocks her sobs with the free one. Chairs screech around the table as everyone stands, moving to congratulate the couple. Emotion fills the room, and we’re all sporting misty eyes. Mom untangles herself from Greg, signaling Sophia to share the hug too.
Watching my family share this moment suddenly has me feeling disconnected, reminding me something is missing.
Someone is missing.
•••
Greg’s news was like a wake-up call. I have to see Phoenix and talk to her. Determined, I text Adam and let him know that I’m coming. There’s nothing that we can’t resolve by talking.
Kai: I need to see her, please. At least let me try.
I’ve been trying to see Phoenix since she came home, but each time I’ve asked Adam or Eric, their only response was that she needs time. Not that I don’t understand, but it’s been two years of wait and one whole month since she woke up. Enough time, in my opinion.
Adam: Fine. Have dinner with us.
At seven o’clock sharp, I’m standing outside Phoenix’s house with a bottle of wine as I ring the doorbell. I try to shake the nervousness out, but it’s glued to me. Different scenarios of meeting Phoenix went through my mind since she woke up. In most of them, she was happy to see me and wanted to know why I didn’t come earlier so I just hope that’ll be her reaction when she’ll see me.
Madison opens the door, and the way her lips curve into a smile makes me feel better instantly. “Kai, it’s so good to see you.” She hugs me.
Once inside, my eyes scan the room in search of Phoenix.
“She’s in her room,” Madison says, closing the door behind me.
“May I?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Eric says, entering the living room to shake my hand. He motions for me to sit down. “Phoenix is not really … herself.”
His words knocked the breath out of me. “What do you mean?”
Madison looks at Adam as he walks into the dining room. “She’s not really speaking to anyone.”
“What? Why?”
I give Madison the wine, and we all sit at the table.
“She woke up and learned that she was sleeping for nearly two years. It’s just that she has so much to process right now,” Eric explains. “She has difficulty communicating properly at times, and it seems to be causing her a lot of frustration. She’s always so angry, and she can say things that can be hurtful.” Sadness creases his forehead.
So, this is what they were all hiding. “It doesn’t matter to me,” I say, looking Eric in the eyes.
Eric gives a slow headshake and sighs, “It doesn’t matter to us either, Kai, but that’s not the point. She’s the one who has to try, and right now she’s too angry and frustrated. It’s not good for her.”
Adam nods. “We wanted to give her more time to adjust to all this, and truthfully, she hasn’t been willing to see you.”
Ouch. I nod. “I get that she needs time, but maybe I can do something. Phoenix and I were very close before the accident. Maybe I can—”
Eric nods. “We know this, and that’s why we agreed that you come today. Maybe she’ll be more open with you? We have no idea, but we can certainly try.”
I thought once Phoenix was out of the coma, everything would go back to normal. But real life is nothing like the movies where people get up from the coma and nothing has changed. Bullshit. They fucking change. I’m about to experience that, and I pray that it doesn’t break me.
“Let me see my girl then,” I say, getting up from the chair. No one stops me. Step by step, I climb the stairs until I reach her room and knock. Forehead pressed to the door, I wait, but no voice comes from the other side. I knock again and wait—but nothing, so I turn the doorknob slowly, opening the door.
Phoenix. She’s in her wheelchair with her back to me, staring out the window. Her hands are white-knuckled, gripping the arms of her chair, but the sight of her sitting makes me smile. It feels good to see her in any other position than lying down.
Inhaling a deep breath, I slowly make my way to her and stop behind the chair. We stay like this, looking out the window, watching the rain pelting the window pane. Neither of us breaks the silence.
I stand behind her savoring her features. How her eyelashes bat after a few seconds, how her hands grip each other, and how her jaw is clenching with each breath that she’s taking. All this makes my heart warm because my Phoenix is finally awake.
“Phoenix …” I whisper.
She draws in air sharply and closes her eyes. Her reaction gets my heart pumping. I turn the chair and crouch in front of her. Her eyes remain closed, and I feel the icicles growing around her. “Baby … Please look at me,” I whisper, touching her hands, ignoring how stiff they are.
She opens her eyes slowly, and the look she gives me is a devastating punch to my heart. Ignoring the pain, I look deeper into her eyes, trying to see hope, love, compassion—even a mild interest—but nothing. She’s looking right through me like she doesn’t even care I’m here. She’s showing me nothing but indifference.
“Phoenix …” I call out.
She gulps, and her gaze leaves me, landing on the wall behind me.
“Babe, look at me.”
She inhales sharply. Her chest starts to heave, but she still doesn’t make eye contact. She starts hyperventilating.
I hold her cheeks. “Phoenix, what’s the matter?”
Tears roll down her cheek, and she grips my hands. “F-f-forgot,” she whispers. Her gaze connects with mine, and the emptiness I saw a few seconds ago is now replaced by fear and pain.
“What? You forgot what?”
“N-no … no …” Her sobs echo off the wall, and she continues to shake her head. “I f-forgot … I forgot … I forgot …”
“What?” I take a deep breath to control the panic. I try to caress her cheeks, but her firm grip on my hand doesn’t allow me to move. “Please tell me, please,” I whisper.
“Your ... name …” Her breath staggers, and my soul withers with her sobs.
She forgot my name!
I try to control the pain from taking over my body and remind myself that it’s just her brain messing with her. “Kai. It’s Kai,” my dry t
hroat croaks.
She continues to breathe loudly but nods vigorously. “Kai,” she whispers. “Kai, Kai, K-kai, K-kai, Kai …”
I bite my tongue. “That’s okay.”
Her eyes catch fire, and she slaps my hands away from her cheeks. “It’s … not okay!” she screams, each broken word piercing through my heart. “It’s not okay … to f-forget … Kai.”
She looks so different. The anger in her eyes dipped in heartbreak and pain—too much pain.
I hear footsteps running toward the room and stop near the door. Shame gathers in her eyes, and she looks at the person behind me. Bringing back her gaze on me, she whispers, “It’s not okay.”
I press my lips together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to see Adam looking at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“Just give me a second, okay?”
He nods, blocking his mouth with his hand as he gives Phoenix one last look before leaving the room.
I graze two fingers beneath Phoenix’s chin and turn her head toward me. “You’re right. It may not be okay. But let me help you, love. Let me help you get through this,” I whisper softly, brushing her hair from her cheek. She looks at me, and I wipe away her tears.
“Let me,” I reiterate, touching our foreheads. I touch our noses and whisper, “I love you, Phoenix. Always have, always will.”
She once told me that she needed my kiss to cheer her up. I just hope it’s what she needs right now. My lips descend on hers, wanting to feel her soft lips on mine. Hopefully, this will remind her of what she means to me and what we are together. But she presses her lips together, blocking my kiss and turning her head away.
Her one small action rips out my heart and nails it to the wall.
Fuck!
I bite my lips—hard—but this time, it doesn’t help the tears from spilling over my cheeks.
“I c-can’t …” She shakes her head.
My entire world crumbles. Phoenix is my home.
Where will I go if she doesn’t let me in?
Silent Music Page 10
