Silent Resilience

Rui Takahashi

Beep...Beep...Beep

What emotion was he feeling?

Sitting to the side of his father's hospital bed, one hand on Asher's wrist. The other no longer existing. He squeezed tight, only to receive no answer. He wasn't expecting one anyways.

Asher never looked good in white. The man looked much better in blue, or red, or any other colour. The colour white- the bedsheets, pillows, blankets and gown- didn't suit him. In that moment, Adriel thought Asher looked both like a child and an elderly man.

This feeling Adriel felt, just what was it?

Anger? There was probably some in there. Adriel tried his hardest to be the patient provider Asher leaned on. He gave, and he gave, and he gave, until he snapped. Only for his efforts to go down the drain, because there was no calming of the wildfire that was his father's mind. Why did Asher make things so hard? Why did Adriel still love his dad?

Actually, did he still love his father? Adriel didn't know anymore. He forgot what it had felt like. It didn't bother him that much.

"Why...didn't you listen to me?" he whispered. His droopy, dry eyes didn't dare leave Asher's face. "Why...couldn't we just talk about her? Why did you choose this instead?"

It wasn't a choice. Adriel knew this. Adriel was also tired of the life he lived. The work, the money, the isolation...

Was it his fault? There were other people out there, who were more responsible. Other kids his age, who could balance work and friendship and grades and family. Other kids, who had two hands and two legs, who had the energy to run around and play kick the can with their friends. Why was he so different?

Maybe he was just lazy. That was probably it. So lazy, that the realization didn't even bother him, because he was too tired to care.

At some point in his thoughts, as Adriel stared at his father's face, he came to realize that there was something deeply, deeply wrong with him. He wasn't normal: had never been for his entire life. That never bothered Adriel, but throughout the past few weeks, his definition of normal had shifted. It was only until now that he realized just how alienated he felt.

Normal people were more present in their bodies. They were connected to reality; a reality that had a balance of happiness and sadness and all other emotions. They called their friends and had the energy to reciprocate love, because they had functioning brains that didn't tell them to self destruct every few seconds. They had their ups and downs of course, because what was life if it only went one way?

Adriel's life did exactly that. He felt like a brick, sitting and watching time go by, and the day was over before he could register it, and he was waking up to his work alarm again. There was no balance or harmony between emotions, rather, everything congealed together into one foggy mess.

Adriel didn't know how to describe the way he was feeling. He also had no one to tell, because his friends would promptly send him to a therapist the second he told them. And going to a therapist meant spending-no, wasting- more money, and he couldn't afford to do that. Besides, there wasn't anything seriously wrong with him anyways.

Adriel squeezed his father's wrist again. The pulse was feeling weaker with every passing second. Every beep coming from the heart monitor was a reminder; time was passing. Would his father do the same?

Asher's love was bowls of cubed watermelon- the juiciest and sweetest of the pick- that dotted his childhood memories. It was walks in the park, where his father would pick the fruit off random public trees, and Adriel would look away in embarrassment. It was essential oil being rubbed on his temples, chest, and the balls of his feet, the second Asher heard Adriel sneeze even once.