by Mike Kilroy
“They’re going to be here soon,” Eye Lyds said.
Solo was silent. He stared straight ahead, sitting Indian style on the floor. His pant legs were becoming wet, but he didn’t move.
The blood. So much blood.
“It’ll be okay. I promise. I always have your back.”
Solo was silent.
“Don’t worry. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. I’ll see you later, alligator.
Solo was silent. Inside his head, though, he screamed. No you won’t, Eye Lyds. You’ll never see me again. I am lost to you. I am lost to everyone. I’ll be in a deep, dark hole where no one can find me, where no one can see me. Maybe that’s where I belong. Maybe that’s where I should be. No pain. No hurt. Alone.
Solo was silent, unblinking.
Still.
***
Solo’s eyes were unfocused. Everything was swirled and blurred. He moved his lips and made a sound that was scarcely like a word.
He blinked wildly. Things finally came into focus. Standing in front of him was a man in a long, brown robe.
This strange man pointed at him and yelled. “The vegetable is awake! The vegetable is awake!”
All eyes in the room swung to Solo. They looked at him in varying states of shock; some with eyes wide, some with jaws slacked, some pointing feverishly and some rubbing the tops of their heads in confusion.
Solo looked down to see he was sitting in a wheelchair and was wearing powder blue pajamas. His feet were bare.
He wiggled his toes. They felt stiff.
“The vegetable is awake!” The peculiar man in the long, brown robe yelled again. His receding hair was greasy and matted to his scalp and he hadn’t shaved in days. His hairy arms flailed as he ran away.
A woman wearing all white walked briskly toward Solo, who swallowed harshly and attempted to get out of the chair.
“Hold up, Morris,” she said.
Morris? Of all the names that start with an M, I never thought my name would be Morris.
“What’s …” Solo took a harsh swallow before he finished his question in a rough, raspy voice “… going on?” He peered to his right to see another man sitting in a wheelchair, staring blankly ahead with a column of drool running from the corner of his mouth down the left side of his chin.
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” the woman in white said. “Let’s wait for Dr. Hu.”
“Who?”
“Yes, Dr. Hu.”
“Who’s Dr. Hu?”
“He’s the doctor.”
A Chinese man, short, portly and with a chinstrap beard, waddled toward them. He had two large men, also dressed in white, flanking him.
He shined a light into Solo’s eyes. Solo squinted and looked away. The doctor then flicked the light and Solo’s eyes followed.
“Dr. Hu?” Solo asked.
The man nodded. “Yes, Morris. You know who I am? You understand where you are?”
His English was perfect.
“Not really.”
Dr. Hu smiled. “Well, that is to be expected. You’ve been gone for a very long time. A very long time indeed. Welcome back.”
Chapter Four
Open Your Eye Lyds
Solo closed his eyes and then opened them.
Dr. Hu was still there.
Solo closed his eyes and kept them shut for ten seconds—he counted under his breath, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, etc.—before he opened them again.
Dr. Hu was still there.
Solo again closed his eyes—so tightly they began to throb as water seeped from them. “What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?” Solo whispered over and over again before he shot his eyes open once more.
Dr. Hu was still there.
“It’s okay, Morris.” The doctor’s voice was soft and soothing. It had the great power to calm. “Disorientation is normal. You’re back now. We can help you.”
Dr. Hu nodded at the nurse, who pushed Solo toward the exit of the large room that had tables and chairs, a Ping Pong table, and a television propped up high in the corner.
There were also people—lots of people. They gawked at Solo as he was rolled away.
The doctor’s office was at the end of a long hallway. The florescent lights above reflected off the polished, white floor tile and gave Solo something akin to snow blindness. He sheltered his sensitive eyes with the sleeve of his powder blue pajamas.
The nurse wheeled him to a stop in front of a large, oak desk and locked the chair. She patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “The doctor will make you all better. He’s very good and very kind. You are in good hands,” and left the office.
Solo stared at the diplomas that hung on the wall behind the desk. They were all very official and all very impressive. He peered to his left and a saw a poster of a cat dangling from a tree limb and the words “HANG IN THERE” plastered in big, bold type above the feline.
Solo chuckled.
Dr. Hu walked briskly into the room. “It’s good to hear you laugh.” The doctor patted Solo on the back and made his way around the desk to sit in his large, leather chair. He pressed his fingers to his lips in contemplation and examined Solo for a long moment.
What’s he looking at? What’s he thinking? What’s going on?
It was very uncomfortable and Solo managed to summon enough strength in his atrophied muscles to squirm in his wheelchair.
Finally Dr. Hu spoke in a soothing voice. Does he have any other tone. “Do you know what happened to you?”
It was such a broad question with so many plausible answers. Solo searched for one, trying to remember where and who he was, but came up empty.
“No.” Solo shrugged. “I mean, I remember bits and pieces.”
“You’ve been in a state of catatonia for some time now.”
Solo figured as much from the state of his body. He was weak and gaunt and felt in a fog. “For how long?”
“Several months. Do you remember anything from before?”
“Before?” Solo’s heart beat rapidly. He remembered After quite vividly, but very little from Before. Then he realized Dr. Hu wasn’t talking about what he thought he was talking about. That place with Tom—who never existed to begin with—and Mar was perhaps all an elaborate construct of a damaged mind.
But it was so real.
Then again, so is this.
“Yes, Morris. Before. Before you ended up here?”
Solo searched his memory for any recollection of what happened Before. He remembered Eye Lyds, of course. He remembered how hot and humid it was. He remembered playing golf—and chili-dipping each shot with his 3-iron. He remembered reading a book about a man going on a glorious, just adventure with his valued sidekick by his side. His memory was fractured—he could recall a piece here and a piece there, but the puzzle was far from complete.
“I … can’t remember. Well, at least not much. Where’s Eye Lyds? She the last thing I remember.”
Dr. Hu cocked his head. “Who?”
“Lydia?”
The doctor nodded and let out a long “ahhhhhh” before continuing. “We’ve informed her of your … status change.”
“Is she coming?”
“She will be here soon.”
Solo smiled and nodded. He shut his eyes and thanked the Lord that he would get a chance to see her again.
He opened his eyes to see Dr. Hu examining him again, as if Solo were a lightning bug trapped in a jar. He didn’t much like the feeling. “What happened to me?”
“Well, Morris. That is a complex question.”
No shit. “What’s the complex answer?”
Dr. Hu chuckled. “Well, Morris, I was hoping you could tell me what happened, but it seems you have blocked out the event. It must have been a very traumatic one to cause you to escape into your own mind.”
“I want to remember.” Solo punched at his thigh and raised his voice. “Why can’t I remember?” He slugged his thigh again with greater force, then again, harder still until he could fe
el the pain grow and throb in his scrawny leg.
Dr. Hu stood, a look of concern on his face, and pushed a button on his desk. “Morris, it’s okay. It’s all right. You’ve made a tremendous breakthrough by returning to us. Everything is going to be fine now.”
Solo stopped his fisted barrage of his thigh and exhaled.
Soon, the kind nurse and a large orderly entered the room and stood on each side of Solo.
“That’s enough for now, Morris,” the doctor said calmly. “We don’t want to push things. We need to check you out. Do a full medical workup.”
Dr. Hu walked around his desk, placed a hand on Solo’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly. “It’s nice to have you back.”
***
Solo lay on the bed and squeezed his fingers into a fist, and then bent his elbow. They had taken so much blood from him, his arm tingled.
The nurse was mean and not gentle. She had a rough, scowling face and cold eyes that made him feel very uneasy. She looked as if she didn’t like her job at all. Perhaps she should quit and do something else.
She told him her name—well, barked it at him. He couldn’t remember it, so he just called her Ratched.
She guided Solo to the wheelchair, but he balked. “I can walk.”
Ratched folded her arms on her chest. “Sure you can. C’mon. Walk then.”
Solo took a step forward and his legs wobbled. He nearly fell, but steadied himself. He felt like a newly born fawn trying to walk for the first time. Finally, he gathered himself and made slow, choppy steps forward. It was all he could do to balance.
“Hurry up, Bambi. Dr. Hu is waiting for you.”
Ratched walked near him as he teetered his way down the hall toward the doctor’s office. She said things like, “hurry up” and “Jesus, I can crawl faster” and “If you fall, I’m not catching your skinny ass.” He didn’t respond. He was too focused on his laborious steps to pay much attention.
Finally, he made it to Dr. Hu’s office and stumbled inside. The first person he saw was Eye Lyds sitting in a chair in front of the oak desk. She didn’t turn her head to look at him.
Solo sat down next to her, his face creased with a large grin. He reached his hand out to hold hers, but she pulled it away. Her face was pale, her lips quivered and she blinked away tears in her bloodshot eyes.
Solo was confused. “What’s wrong, Eye Lyds?”
She turned to look at him, her brow furled and her jaw clenched. Finally, she said, “Don’t call me that. Why do you call me that? My name is Lydia. Lyd-i-a!”
She shot a look at Dr. Hu. “Why did he have to wake up?”
Dr. Hu pursed his lips. “Lydia, we had a conversation about this. Please. Morris has been through a great ordeal. He needs support, now more than ever. You’ll see that he’s quite lucid.”
She crossed her legs and smoothed out her flowing black dress, clasping her shaking hands and pressing them on her thigh. She shook her head in what looked to Solo like a swirl of frustration and torment and stared unblinkingly at the wall. Solo could see the arteries in her neck pulse with anger.
Solo peered down at his own lap as he picked at his fingers. His eyes filled with tears and distorted his vision. As he blinked, his perception changed, his fingers becoming bigger and then smaller, longer and then shorter. “I … don’t understand what is happening to me.” A tear dripped onto his thumb.
“It’s okay, Morris,” Dr. Hu said calmly. “I thought Lydia would help, but clearly I was mistaken.”
“I can’t handle this right now. I just—” Lydia stood and stomped out of the room, her heels clacking on the tile floor.
Solo looked up at the doctor and pleaded with his eyes, and then with his words. “Please, can you tell me what is happening?”
Dr. Hu looked at Solo with compassion. “Lydia brought you in to us months ago. You were catatonic. She couldn’t explain why you were in such a state.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know. You do have quite a thick file: In and out of facilities, on several types of medication, many disturbing incidents. But also long periods of functionality. Very perplexing. Still, none of that can explain your catatonia. Something like that takes a major trauma.”
Solo tried to remember such an event, but couldn’t.
“What did Eye Ly—Lydia say?”
“Not much. She was at a loss as well. Just that she found you and brought you to us.”
“Did she visit?”
“At first, yes. But then the visits became less and less frequent. She hasn’t been back in weeks.”
Solo lowered his head. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry about Lydia now, Morris. Worry about yourself. Anything you can tell me that could shed a light would be great.”
He looked at the doctor and began to speak, but stopped.
“What is it, Morris? The more you share, the better we can figure out what happened to you.”
Solo told the doctor of his experience in a world devoid of most humans. Of how he wandered, pilfering food from vacant stores and living from empty house to empty apartment to empty office building. He told him of Tom, and of Mar, who robbed him of everything before he ended up back here.
With each revelation, the doctor’s eyes grew larger and his smile broader. Solo concluded he liked what he was hearing, for some unknown, unfathomable reason.
“I’m glad you are enjoying my batshit craziness, doc,” Solo said.
“You constructed an entire alternate reality to deal with the trauma, almost like a vivid, lucid dream state,” Dr. Hu’s voice was almost giddy. “There are rare cases of this, but I have never seen one until now. This is truly intriguing. Truly remarkable. This is very good, Morris. Very good indeed. I don’t think we are going to have any trouble cutting through to the truth of what happened to you.”
The doctor stood and squeezed Solo’s shoulder again.
For the first time Solo felt like he was on his way to reclaiming his life.
Whatever that life was.
***
“Ace!” Eye Lyds exclaimed as she turned over the top card of her stack.
Solo turned over his top card and peered at it dejectedly. “King.”
“Score!” Eye Lyds scooped them both up and placed them under her stack.
They flipped over cards onto the lunch table in the empty cafeteria. They both had a free period and they escaped here to be alone.
And with each other.
Solo won some; Solo lost some. Eye Lyds won some; Eye Lyds lost some.
“Why do you do it?” Eye Lyds asked.
Solo shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I love you, Morris. You know that right?” She flipped over another card, a Jack.
“I know.” He flipped over another card, also a Jack.
“War!” Eye Lyds yelled, a look of bloodthirst in her eyes.
***
The woman Solo knew as Eye Lyds, but who he just called Lydia now, sat across the small, square table from him, squirming in her uncomfortable, molded plastic chair. At least Solo thought her discomfort was from the chair. He hoped as much. He didn’t want to think her discomfort came from him.
A stack of playing cards sat to Solo’s right and he fiddled with the top card. A stack of playing cards also sat to Lydia’s right, but she ignored them. Instead she rubbed the empty ring finger of her left hand with the index finger and thumb of her right.
Solo supposed she was not in the mood to play. Solo remembered they played war in the Before—he remembered that much—but the rest of his memory of this woman who sat in front of him, making eye contact with everyone and everything but him, was becoming more and more blurred.
“You’re not Eye Lyds?” Solo asked. It caught enough of her attention to finally draw her eyes to him.
“No. I hate when you call me that. It’s stupid.”
“So, it’s just Lydia, right?”
“Yes.” A tear rolled down her pale cheek.
“I remember sp
ending a lot of time with you.”
“You did.”
“I remember I love you. Do you still love me?”
She pulled away and leaned as far back in her chair as she could. She seemed appalled by the question. She wiped more tears that had rolled from her eyes with her shaking hands.
Why are her hands shaking so much? God, I hope she isn’t sick.
“Do you have Parkinson’s?” Solo asked.
“Wh … what?”
“Your hands are shaking.”
She was speechless and stared at him as if he had thirteen heads. He vaguely remembered receiving that stare many times before.
“I’m sorry. I’m confused,” Solo said.
“God! Ya think?”
Dr. Hu approached and stood at the side of the table between them. His caring eyes peered down at Solo and then at Lydia. He had a soft, comforting smile on his round face as well. Solo was beginning to hate that smile, though. “Morris, how are we doing here?”
Solo was also beginning to hate how many times Dr. Hu said “Morris.”
“Morris is not doing well,” Lydia barked.
The doctor’s smile melted into a frown. “Oh?”
“What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t even know who I am.”
Solo slinked down in his chair. He was ashamed and he felt a tremendous sinking feeling in his chest. He almost felt like vomiting. Dr. Hu noticed this and squeezed his shoulder again. “It’s okay, Morris.”
Lydia bellowed, “No, it’s not okay!”
Dr. Hu motioned with his hand for her to stand. She stood and stomped away, her heels clacking loudly on the tile floor again.
“We’ll be right back, Morris,” Dr. Hu said in those soothing tones. Just hang in there.”
Just like the cat on the tree limb.
Dr. Hu stood in front of Lydia and spoke forcefully. Solo couldn’t make out what he was saying—the television under which they stood was loud and so was the babbling of the man in the brown robe who now stood uncomfortably close to Solo.
Brown Robe Guy mumbled and prattled on; almost nothing of what he said made much sense. Solo did make out a word here or there: “end” and “ruined” and “wine” and “whore.” The doctor had told him BRG was particularly agitated since Solo emerged from his catatonia.
BRG broke into a chorus of “Babylon, Babylon, Babylon” as Solo tried to stay focused on Dr. Hu and Lydia, who argued under a Friends rerun on the television above them.
