by CJ Lyons
There’s something he’s not telling me. About ‘that place.’
72 Days, 17 December, Wednesday
Julia and Ariel did come and see me today, just like they said they would. Ariel presented me with a card and a small box of chocolates, chirping out a friendly “Happy Christmas!”
I smiled, then thought it would be polite to address them by their names, so I did so, still smiling broadly at them. It’s a good feeling to know that people are interested in his health, and aren’t afraid to think of him a curse.
Also, it’s rather nice to know that people will actually talk to me too. Since I was Noah’s friend, guess I was included in the general consensus that ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.”
Sort of a reference there. Haha.
Meaning of course, that we were, in the general idea of the word, dead to the rest of the class, unless they were feeling particularly snarky and needed someone to belittle.
At the hospital today, he was still very quiet, and seemed to be thoroughly preoccupied with other thoughts.
“Aerie…” he said after a lengthy, and mildly awkward silence. “If I told you something… would you believe me?”
“Absolutely. You never lie.”
A glimmer of a smile played about his mouth, and then faded away completely. He licked his lips before continuing. “You are aware of certain facilities where people are treated for mental illness, yes?”
“Er… yeah. Why?”
“That was the place I was afraid of going. I am still afraid of that place. That’s why I won’t tell anyone else I’ve forgotten my attacker. They’ll send me there.”
“Wh-what? You’re not mentally ill! Why would someone-” I checked myself, “-your father take you to a place like that?”
“Because I am mentally unstable. I believe you have been ignoring the signs.” He stared me right in the eye, “Nightmares, panic attacks, irrational fears, depression, reluctance to create relationships...”
Couldn’t reply.
After a moment, he looked back towards the window. “I had been… treated for the worst of all of it in that place.”
All he received from me is more silence.
“They were trying to cure me of my homosexuality, once it was evident I was afflicted with it. They would… do these tests, and treatments… and-” his throat made a weird noise, and he looked away.
At that, I snapped, and jumped out of my chair. “They did what?! That’s evil! Being gay is not a mental illness!!! What the hell is wrong with them? With him?! Your father is disgusting! How could any parent do this to their child?” Heard my voice crack there.
He was petrified, his one eye wide and his mouth slightly agape.
“Noah… Noah… I’m so sorry.” I stepped to his bedside, gently taking him in my arms. “It’s not fair.”
“What is done cannot be undone. It is something that has happened; there is no way to erase it.”
“I’m sorry.” Repeated that maybe a million times. Lost track.
He tugged on my shirt sleeve, moving over on the bed for me to lie beside him. Immediately complying, I got into bed beside him, holding him in my arms. Thought that maybe, just by holding him, I could help alleviate some of that pain. That torturous secret that he finally freed, it ate away at us, corroding the serenity we often shared.
Time forgot us for hours, allowing us to just lie there, in a strained silence, taking comfort in each other’s embrace.
This love was not an illness.
This is not something to be cured.
This is not a sickness.
71 Days, 18 December, Thursday
Today passed like eating an orange. (I’m trying out metaphors here) It unwound slowly as it began, and then seemed to go in fits and starts, like each segment, until we arrived at the end.
Noah is almost well enough to be discharged, except for the worrisome fracture on his cheekbone. Evidently it’s less of a problem than it might have been, since he’s already blind in that eye, so the doctors are being less proactive to save his vision.
Which I’m kind of unsure is a good or bad thing.
Well sure, he doesn’t need immediate attention, but that doesn’t mean he can be ignored.
The police also came in today, and had all sorts of questions about the intruders. Noah said he wasn’t sure about the identity of the man. He seemed to be able to describe what he looked like, but not who he was.
The police officers also asked me a few questions, mainly about my impression of Noah and the likelihood of a break-in.
“Well, his family is rich, I guess, so burglars wouldn’t be a surprise… but…”
The female officer was very attentive, “What? You seem to have something on your mind.”
“I really don’t think this was a robbery gone wrong.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Honestly… I think it was his father.”
“That’s a serious claim. Do you realise what you’re saying?”
“It’s what I truly believe.”
“Well, we’re going to set Noah up with a sketch artist, since he claims not to remember the identity, but can recall the man’s features. It seems odd that he wouldn’t identify his father if it was him, doesn’t it?”
That shook my resolve. Hadn’t actually thought of that. Was so unswervingly convinced of his father’s guilt that I didn’t think of anyone else.
And he told me. He told me that he didn’t know the man.
Does this absolve his father?
He just finished with the sketch artist. Was allowed a look at the picture.
As soon as I looked at it, I was confused. It was a perfect image of what his father looked like.
“But-” I looked back at him, “This is him.”
“Who?” The detectives and Noah asked in unison.
“This is your father.”
Noah looked incredibly confused, and then took the picture back. He touched his face, running his fingers across his forehead. “I don’t know this man. He is a stranger to me.”
Heard the detectives talking amongst themselves.
“He’s obviously confused. He doesn’t remember his attacker, so he’s trying to blame his father. He’s got a history of this kind of behaviour.” The tall man muttered, though his partner looked unconvinced.
“He’s obviously confused, yeah, but I think he’s just blocked his attacker from his mind, and in this case, it’s his father. Amnesia in post-traumatic stress disorder patients is something we deal with all the time!”
Her partner still looked disbelieving, but he nodded. “Right, let’s go and check out the father then.”
They turned to both of us, and the female detective smiled, “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, guys. We won’t let this go without justice.”
“Thank you.” Noah said softly, and I took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
He waited until they were gone to speak again. “Aerie, are you certain of what you said? That is was my father?”
“I’m positive. I met him before, remember?”
“I suppose.” He shuffled over on his bed, once again prompting me to climb in beside him.
As I was getting settled, he asked me another question.
“We… we are in love, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely.” I answered immediately.
“That is something I remember. You are my love.”
Sometimes, the things he says are so cheesy and romantic, I can scarcely believe he says them so unabashedly.
So that’s why I feel so comfortable being cheesy and romantic right back.
“Always and forever, we’ll be happy for eternity.” Kissed him softly, and pulled the blankets over both of us. “I love you, Noah.”
70 Days, 19 December, Friday
Can’t believe there’s only a week until Christmas. Love this whole season. The snow, and the lights, the happy people. It’s a lovely time of year.
And
Noah has been told to come and stay with me and Terra for it. Actual doctor’s orders. Seriously.
His father came to pick him up today.
“Excuse me, I’m here to pick up my son.” A familiar voice, that deep commanding voice.
Overheard this as I was returning to Noah’s room with some tea. Horrified, I turned and looked to see if it was really his father. He glanced at me, and frowned, and I hurried away, avoiding his gaze.
As soon as I returned to Noah’s room, I closed the door quickly, slamming my back against it. This prompted a curious look from him as he glanced up from his book.
“What is the matter?” he asked, still with that same curious look.
“Your father, he’s here. He’s coming to pick you up.”
“That does not sound like a good thing.”
“No kidding. What are we going to do?”
“Would hiding be an appropriate strategy?”
Thought about that for a few beats, and then nodded. “Right, where are we going to hide then?”
“How about down in the sunroom? We could be very evasive there.” At this point, I think he had forgotten he was afraid of his father.
“Right.” I opened the door a crack as he got out of bed, and waved him over. “I don’t see him yet. Let’s go.”
We hurried down the hallways, avoiding the inquisitive glances from everyone else. Noah glanced back down the hallways as we took a corner, and gasped audibly.
“That man. That man is behind us.”
Ushered him around the corner, and then stole a glance back as well. His father was now asking a nurse why there wasn’t anyone in the room.
“Um, uh…” Looked around wildly, trying to find something I could fight his father off with. Don’t know why that was my first impulse. Usually, I’d take flight rather than fight. Something about Noah brings out my ferocity though.
Looked around the corner again, and saw his father heading down this way.
“Whoa, we have to get out of here. C’mon.” I took his hand, and led him down the hallway, running as fast as he could manage. We stood beside another corner, taking another subtle look. His father marched on, glowering at everything in his search for us.
“Right.” I said. Noah stared at me, biting his lip. “Right. Um.”
And then there it was. A janitorial sanctuary right beside us. Twisted the knob and pulled him inside, closing it and enveloping us in the complete darkness and the smell of disinfectant.
He sucked in a deep breath, tensing in my arms.
“I know you’re scared.” I whispered. His hair tickled my cheek as I leaned closer to him. “But you’re safe with me. I won’t let you go.”
His heartbeat raced as I held him, and the heat from his body sunk into my chest, setting my own heart off.
After my eyes adjusted to the dark, we could see the shadows of feet underneath the door, milling about with no regard for us.
Which is good, I suppose.
We must have remained there, breathing in the dark for at least fifteen minutes. He didn’t move from where I held him, his back flush up against my chest. It was a little unnerving feeling the sharp edges of his shoulder blades against my chest. He’s so thin.
Wanted to say something meaningful. Did think of a few things, but didn’t know how I would bring them up in a closet full of mops. It’s not really the most romantic of settings.
Eventually, I made a move to get up, and he tensed up. “Please wait. I do not believe it is safe yet.”
“Are you sure? I mean, it’s been a while.”
He was silent.
“Noah?”
It was weird, normally I can tell what he’s thinking or feeling just by looking at his face, but it was so dark that it was really difficult to tell. Tentatively, I placed my lips on his neck, using the contact to read his emotions. If I can’t have his expression, I’ll use his emotions.
There didn’t really seem to be much there. He was more blank than I’d ever felt him to be.
There was a bit of fear, probably a result of the dark, and then, suddenly, a lot of anger.
“What are you angry about?”
Silence.
“Noah, what’s the matter?”
“I thought I told you I hate questions.” His tone was biting, harsh. Something his voice should never do. It hardly even sounded like him.
Almost more like…
“Tobias.”
“Why did you call to me?”
“What? I didn’t. What the hell are you doing here? How…? Are you possessing him or something?”
“I suppose you could call it possession. It seems I was mistaken. I was under the impression you had called to me. Your call was powerful enough to allow me to take over.”
“I didn’t call for you. How did you possess him? Are you hurting him?”
“He may be in some distress. It is rather dark in here.”
“Well then let him go! He’s terrified of the dark!”
“I have something to discuss with you.”
“What? Make it quick and let him go. If you’re hurting him-”
“Be quiet.” Tobias’ voice was sharp again, cutting my words short. “I wanted to ask you… How dare you?”
Swallowed, immediately frightened of those words.
“How dare you make him smile, and be happy, and be loved when you are only going to leave him? You are selfish, and ignorant.”
At that, I was angry. “I’m with him because I love him, and for right now, he needs me! Tomorrow doesn’t matter until it becomes today!”
“You are torturing him. Your death will destroy him, and despite other people’s warnings, you still persist to give him false hope? You are cruel.”
“Yeah, I’m stupid. I’m an idiot for believing I can change my fate. But maybe there’s some way I can change his. I’ll love him, and I’ll show him that there is a reason to love this life. If I can show him the kindness he deserves, and that he can be happy, maybe… just maybe he can live without me. If that hope is cruel, then I guess I’m a sick son of a bitch, but there’s no way I’m not going to try. I’ve accepted it, I’m going to die, but he doesn’t have to be killed with me.”
There was a long silence before he replied. “I am sorry. I understand your intentions.”
“Let him go.” I said, “Stay where you belong, in my dreams.”
“I do not belong anywhere.”
The anger was gone, and I heard Noah take a deep breath.
“Aerie…”
“Noah. It’s okay now. Let’s go.” I stood up, helping him up as I did so, and we approached the door. It sounded very normal out there, the usual hustle and bustle of the hallways.
Opened the door and peered out, squinting at the bright fluorescent lights. No one seemed to be paying much attention to us, so we surreptitiously made our way back to the room, and had lukewarm tea.
Didn’t tell him about talking with Tobias. And he didn’t mention it at all. Apparently, he was unaware of the whole thing. That’s kind of a disturbing notion; he doesn’t remember even though technically he was present.
Suppose that also explains his extreme overreaction to his loss of memories. It must happen enough for him to notice, and it bothers him to have huge gaps.
His knowledge seems to matter a great deal to him, and any loss of it is devastating.
69 Days, 20 December, Saturday
We went home today.
What a relief to write that sentence. Like we’re a family, and returning to our home together is the most natural thing in the world.
Upon returning to the house, however, we discovered that there was little to no good food handy. I guess we had some celery and some carrots that had seen better days, but nothing to make a satisfactory meal with.
Did a quick run to the store, and left Terra and Noah together at the house. Dunno what they talked about, but I have every confidence that they got on well. Pictured a scene where they were laughing about something, a
nd Terra called him Sailor again, and he smiled.
The snow was getting seriously nuts though. It had gotten much worse since I went to the store, and I was having serious reservations about walking back. When I got out into the carpark, though, they were waiting for me in the car.
It’s always a pleasant surprise when something like that happens, but it’s all the more pleasant by the fact that it’s the two most important people in my life.
“Haha, hey guys!” I grinned as I opened the door, feeling the warming rush of the interior air. “I’m glad to see you!”
They both smiled.
“Hurry now, get on in!” Terra motioned for me to get in, so I did, sitting down beside Noah with a rustle of plastic bags.
“Haa! It’s really cold out today, huh?”
Noah nodded, and then grabbed my hand, rubbing it between his own.
Terra put the radio on; there was an upbeat Christmas tune playing, which made her look round. “It’s almost Christmas.”
“That is true.” I answered, with obvious amusement.
“I mean, it’s in five days! It snuck up on me this year!”
“It was Christmas Eve before you realised it last year, Terra.” I grinned, taking Noah’s other hand.
He smiled appreciatively, shuffling closer to me.
“Well, this year, I thought I should be more on top of it, but with everything that’s happened, and all this crazy stuff, it was easy to forget!”
“Well what do you wanna do?”
“Well, we’ve got candles for the window already, but I dunno, should we go get the holly or something?”
“I did buy the raisin bread already. I thought that far ahead.”
“Excuse me. What sort of purpose do holly and raisin bread serve?” Noah asked.
“Oh, it’s just stuff we’d have from back home.” Terra laughed, “It seems weird to not keep the traditions up.”
“Do you mean home as in overseas?”
“Oh yeah! I remember how the house would always be decorated, and Dad would tell us the reasons for all of the traditions. It was always one of the best parts. We’d all sit round the tree, and then Dad would tell stories, and sing songs. Mum would always play the flutes and stuff. They invited pretty much the whole pub, so it was always really busy. And you, Aerian,” she looked at me in the rearview mirror, “You’d try and sing with Dad, and play flutes, and decorate the tree and cook all at the same time.” She laughed, “You were always so interested in everything, it was so funny.”
