Seeking Nirvana

by V. L. Brock

  Tossing her head back, she released a laugh which was both annoying, but so highly amusing, that the only option anyone had was to laugh along with her/at her. She set a kiss on my head. “Oh, sis, this is nothing. Do you remember when I attempted to go cosmic blue, but it ended up green?”

  “Umm…” I attempted to mask my scowl with a chuckle, but the truth was, I couldn’t remember, and for the second time since waking up, I felt that familiar pang of loss.

  The paper rustled as Liam peeked up and stared intently at my younger sister, his mouth agape. “How can you look in the mirror and not fancy cotton candy, Brit?”

  “Shut up, Liam, if I wanted your opinion I’d––actually no, I wouldn’t even ask,” she hissed over her shoulder, in her eyes, the silver edges of the daggers she was pointing at him gleamed in the light. She turned back to face me, and began tethering the inflatable pink daisy around the side rail of the bed. “How are you feeling, sis? So what is it you can’t remember?”

  “You want her to tell you what she can’t remember? My God Brittany, you should have stayed blond.”

  “Hey––” It was my turn to glare at the man to my right. I pointed at my head indicating my hair, “Don’t start with the blond jokes.” I was offered a wink and an air kiss, something that he never used to do before. It made me feel all fuzzy.

  I liked this Liam.

  I told them the last thing I remembered, but it seemed Brittany couldn’t grasp the concept. Thirty minutes her interrogation lasted, ‘Do you remember the Halloween party that I flew out for two years ago? Do you remember our trip to New York? Do you remember this? Do you remember that?’ And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember any of it. Exasperation mounting, I couldn’t simmer my raging blood that had ninjas using my cells as a surfboard ready to kick some ass.

  “Brittany,” Dad hissed pointedly. “That’s enough.” He grasped hold of my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. His piercing blue eyes bore into me with fatherly affection as he spoke with a velvet-soft and welcoming quality. “Did they say when you can go home, chickpea? Because I think it would be best if you came home with us.”

  That captured Liam’s full attention. He dropped the paper into his lap, and stared at my parents on the left side of my bed. “Excuse me?” he sounded affronted.

  “Don’t take it personally, Liam,” Mom began, “But it’ll be even more difficult for her to adjust what with the move, at least we still live in the house she grew up in.”

  “We moved?” I peeped toward Liam, who was staring daggers at my mother. “Where to? What was wrong with Dorchester?” I disputed.

  “And you have the businesses that you need to maintain, so you won’t be able to look after her,” Dad added.

  “Businesses as in plural? What businesses?”

  “Ent-icing is doing fine at the moment with Laurie. I’m sure I can take some time off from DeLaney Constructs.”

  “Ent-icing? What’s that?”

  I felt like I wasn’t even there, like I was a ghost just watching the tension and agitation rise in the room as the people I loved, argued over my needs. They couldn’t understand the mere fact that I needed answers to the questions I was asking.

  My heart had never hammered as fast and as brutal under my ribs, than what it was doing right then. My head started ringing and the pressure inside my skull was torture. My neck ached with the rapid flailing of my head as I shot a look at each of the people who said they cared about me, but were doing nothing but making me worse.

  “Stop it…stop it, please,” I shouted my strangled plea, warm salted tears streaming down my face as my hands found their way into my hair, which felt greasy as Hell.

  At that point, Susan, my dark-haired nurse barged into the room like she was on a mission from God. “What’s happening in here?” she scowled.

  The room fell into silence. Everyone hung their heads, looking guilty as sin as the nurse spoke again. “I respect that this is a sensitive time for all of you, but it’s especially sensitive for, Kady. None of you are helping her with this over-stimulation. I think some of you had better go, and maybe come back tomorrow when things are calmer.”

  Under duress, Liam reared out of the green seat and stood by my side, towering over me. He weaved his fingers soothingly through my oily tresses, and gazed deep into my eyes as I tipped my head back to meet his stare. His eyes were magnificent, they always were. They were one of the things that drew me to him in the first place. And I knew just by the severity of his intent look, that he was silently apologizing. The corner of his mouth twitched before he spoke.

  “Who do you want to go, Kady, baby? I can leave if you want. I’ll come back tomorrow; let your mom and dad stay with you tonight.” The little V appeared between his eyebrows as he strained his words, making it sound like he was doing a favor, for me or them, I have no idea. What I knew with concrete certainty was I didn’t want that. It was far from what I wanted.

  Inside, his words alone had cracked and splintered the sense of security which I felt around him. I’m not saying I didn’t feel that for my parents, of course I did. But Liam was what I needed. I hated that I was being made to choose between them.

  Adrift in his eyes, I searched blindly for his hand and clutched it with everything I had. I shook my head as another tear slipped from my eye. “Don’t leave me, Liam. Please don’t leave me.”

  He lowered his magnificent body, slanting his mouth over mine. He was smiling when he pulled back, and shot my parents a look of triumph with an arched brow. “Sorry, Marcus, Judy, Brittany, looks like Kady wants me to stay. So you will have to come back tomorrow.”

  The expression on my parent’s faces is one that I will carry with me to my grave. I have never felt as responsible for their hurt, and their rejection as what I felt then. I could only imagine the gravity of what they must have felt; knowing that they could have lost their daughter, and then have her politely tell them that she doesn’t want them there. But then again, I had been in a coma for four days, and only now did they fly out to see me.

  That reflection made it easier to dismiss the guilt that was gushing around my body and constricting my heart and throat.

  “Visiting hours are 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m., and 6:00 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.,” Susan confirmed, holding the door open for my immediate family to depart.

  Without so much as a kiss on the head or a goodbye, they strolled from the room.

  They never did visit again.

  A pressing pain in my bladder pulled me from a dancing competition with Kermit the Frog, and Miss Piggy was the Simon Cowell of judges. I was giggling as I opened my eyes. Crazy dreams.

  For some reason, my room door was open, allowing the corridor light to shine through the crack and along the glittery surface of the floor. Liam wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I felt a little disorientated waking up on my own. God, when I came to, I wasn’t even on my own. Walker was right here with me.

  Walker…the Irish construction worker, who––I’d be lying if I said, wasn’t attractive. I recalled the way he said my name in his Irish brogue, he made it sound like Katy. I smiled, wondering if he would come and visit me again. He said that he would be close by.

  Walker and Liam…

  The unwelcomed reminder of Indian Oceans turning muddy, and Hell ablaze in the other’s eyes, the scowls, tension and hostility that charged and clashed between them like an earthquake which leads into a Tsunami, invaded my mind and made me question once again, what exactly was it all about? Why did they deem that behavior appropriate? What the fuck had happened between those two? Unpaid wages packets maybe?

  I bade to push my disobedient thought aside, and concentrate on hauling my ass out of the bed, and make my own damn way to the restroom at the end of my room.

  The off-putting sensation of a child taking their first steps made me grit my teeth and boiled my blood. With each step I took, the ringing in my ears gained, my ribs throbbed. I felt my legs tremble and everything in the room began to look like i
t was resting at an angle. But I was determined to do this for myself.

  At least if I was moving around, then surely the doctors would let me go home soon, in Liam’s care obviously.

  Bright spots danced across my eyes as I flipped on the light switch on the left hand wall, lighting the smallish bathroom. I took care of my business, and on shaky legs, stood myself up, the world spinning and sloping once again. Thankfully the washbasin wasn’t too far away, so I clutched onto it for dear life before my legs buckled under my weight.

  I may had been out cold for four days, and conscious for about thirty-six hours, but considering the last recollection I had was celebrating my twenty-fourth birthday, when I gazed into that mirror above the basin, I hadn’t seen myself in three years, and I was met with a complete stranger.

  I screwed my eyes shut as tight as I could, pleading that when I opened them, the person staring back at me would be one that I remembered. But there must not have been any shooting stars as I made my wish that night, because when I opened them again…the stranger was still staring back.

  My thick, blond, shoulder-length hair was dark and dreary, virtually wire looking. That, I could pass off as just needing washing. My eyes weren’t as bright as what I once saw. My skin wasn’t as flawless as it had been the last time I studied my reflection, and I’m not just talking about the black eye, swollen cheekbone, split lip and scrapes that had white tape suck on each side of my brow, that stared back at me from the accident. Panicked and alarmed, I watched as my lip trembled and my wrinkles grew deeper.

  Freeing my hand from the basin, I leaned in closer to the mirror. My fingers gingerly found their way to my face, and I wished more than anything that my fingertips could erase the creases which spread from the corners of my eyes, when they grazed across them.

  That was another wish that failed to come true.

  The only thing that remained the same was my nose…still straight and narrow.

  There’s no such thing as a minuscule change when you’ve lost years. Everything is just…there, right in front of your face, goading you. Every single change, even down to the change of my hair parting, the span of my brow because my hairline seemed to be a millimeter further back than it was when I was twenty-four, is all too clear, too distinct.

  Each variant of my face had a story behind it: when did I notice my first wrinkle and what was I doing at the time? How did I react when my laugh lines refused to stay dormant until I actually laughed? When did my eyes become dimmer with knowledge that I no longer possessed? It made me realize that it’s not only monumental factors of the last three years that have escaped my memory-bank; it’s the miniscule things, too.

  The bitter taste of bile and disgust rose to greet the back of my tongue. I couldn’t stand and look at this person any longer. I was too scared to continue looking at that person. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Kady Jenson, confident, beautiful, well-spoken…God, even sexy.

  In three minutes, I cried three years’ worth of tears.

  Avoiding the mirror, I created a hollow with my hands and splashed freezing water on my face, before slowly backing out of the lavatory.

  Liam was strolling into my room when I flipped the light switch off and rested my shoulder against the doorway of the restroom. His shirtsleeves were rolled up displaying his forearms, yet they were still hidden by the blackness of the room.

  “Hey, Kady, baby, what are you doing up?” he murmured.

  I hoped that the darkness I was obscured by had masked my scowl. “I had needs that needed tending to. Where were you?”

  He unrolled his shirtsleeves and fastened the button on his cuffs. “I needed to get a little fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.”

  I merely nodded.

  He fisted his hands through his dark hair. It was at that length where it would stay back on its own. I don’t know why, but I wondered if it would be long enough to tie back. He cocked his head as he sluggishly skulked towards me. “What’s wrong, baby?” he probed with concern.

  “What’s happened to me, Liam?” His pursed lips, deep frown and narrowed eyes told me he didn’t understand my question. I bowed my head, feeling awfully shy and out of my depth. Two simple words journeyed on a whisper as I lifted my head. “I’m ugly…”

  As soon as my words were hanging in the air between us, I studied his eyes as they hardened for a moment, but in that moment, I swear I saw fire and brimstone. He cupped my face in both his hands. They were freezing.

  “You’re not ugly, Kady. You’re gorgeous. I told you that the first day I met you, but I never told you often enough.”

  My lip curled, and I could feel those damn creases on my brow deepen. “I have wrinkles; my hair is…and my skin…” I couldn’t string my sentence together even if I tried, and trust me, I tried. “…And that’s just my face, Liam. I dread to see my body.”

  Pulling me into his body, my sobs were halted as he surrounded my fragile frame with strong, protective arms, arms that kept me safe, arms that loved me. One cradled the back of my head, holding me against his thumping heart, letting me listen and drown out all worldly sounds as it bounced under my ear. I knew he wouldn’t intentionally let any harm come to me, so I can only imagine the guilt which he must be storing at this moment, knowing that he wasn’t with me when the accident happened.

  “Three years, Liam, three Goddamn years.” I unpeeled the side of my face from his shirt, and tipped my head back. He gazed down upon me like a God. “What have I missed?”

  He took his time with a simple blink, but when his lids opened again, they displayed warm, loving and contrite, green and blue eyes. Hands freed my face of stray tendrils and salty residue. His mouth quirked, “Nothing important, Kady, baby. Nothing important.”

  Chapter Four

  It was like surfacing from an underground bunker after years, not knowing and unsuspecting of what lay ahead, when the day came for me to go home. And a part of me resented my boyfriend for prompting that feeling, aware that he could have at least set a safety net in place…

  It was the following Tuesday when Doctor Leviton gave me the okay to be discharged from Massachusetts General, under Liam’s care. A part of me was thrilled to be free from those God forsaken hospital walls, yet my trepidation was gradually overriding any degrees of contentment which I had strived to muster.

  Questions I asked the day my parents came to visit continued floating around in the air, still unanswered and continually playing on my mind. I badgered Liam constantly in the days which followed. ‘Why did we move? Where did we move to? What’s the other business? How come I don’t work at Red Velvet anymore? What happened?’ But each question was brushed off his shoulder in the most infuriating way, like the questions and knowledge I was seeking, weren’t important. It was as if he didn’t want me to know, did want me to be prepared to take this big step into a life that I couldn’t remember creating.

  Liam knew damn well that I needed him at that juncture of my life––that I needed his support. But as the days past, and the interval between my voiced queries and actual non-vague answers stretched, I couldn’t quash the notion that Liam may have wanted me to be dependent on him even more. With the approach he was upholding, he was coming across as though he wanted me to be this delicate, helpless person, to have me thrown into the deep end with only him as my life raft.

  I said my thanks and farewells to the staff who aided me in my recovery as I was wheeled down the corridor, stuffing my routine follow-up appointment with Leviton into the bag resting on my lap while we waited for the elevator. Focusing on my feet, Leviton’s instructions revolved around my head at light speed, as did the expression on Liam’s face as he advised me to avoid driving for the time being, that my behavior may seem a little erratic in comparison to my usual behavior, and to make notes of anything which may had transpired during the three week interval between now and my appointment. I couldn’t shift the feeling that I was being seen as a burden, like I was some suicidal patient at an asylum, and needed constant
supervision.

  Lost in my musing, I didn’t notice the elevator even arrived. Liam whispered my name, asking once again if I was ready to be taken home. As I warily nodded my answer, I was rolled over the threshold, my ribs smarting as the wheels of the chair bumped over the uneven lip between the corridor and the elevator. He pressed the button for the lot, and we were shortly traveling down in utter silence.

  My straining eyes started to ache, my vision blurring as I searched and searched the rows of cars in the lot for a black BMW. I was met, and stuffed into a silver Mercedes instead without so much as a word.

  As I buckled my seatbelt, the familiar buildup of agitation festering in my gut made itself known. The hostile growl I desperately wanted to free was contained, and replaced with an immense pressure in my jaw as it clamped down and teeth began to grind. Six days I’d been conscious, yet Liam couldn’t even find the decency during that time, to drop the, ‘we have a new car’, detail into the mix. Each detail he kept from me, whether it was accidental or deliberate, was doing nothing but provoking an ineffable conflict, and pushing me away from him. My bitterness began to manifest and grew to be more noticeable in my attitude towards him. Even so, I couldn’t dislodge the fist in my stomach which had me contemplating that he may pass my feelings off as, ‘a little erratic in comparison to my usual behavior’.

  We headed west from the hospital. I was staring out of the car window fretting about everything and anything, when Liam set his hand above my denim-clad knee, effectively pulling my attention from the buildings and bystanders passing-by at speed. “What’s wrong, Kady, baby?”

  I was sitting in that seat, gawping at the man to my left with a knot the size of Great Britain in my gut, his warm, large hand parked on my thigh. He fulfilled my request about shaving that gruff off his face; at least he looked more like the Liam I remembered.