Mallory's Melody

Chapter 35

THESE DAYS, HOPELESSNESS WAS Cole's closest companion, was like this cloud that hovered over him and gave not the slightest hint of leaving. He usually had his ways of steering it away. It was either he played the guitar or he submerged himself in writing the novel he'd begun in the days he was dating Jane, a distant thirty years ago, those times when getting inspiration was as fluid as breathing. But inspiration usually deteriorated with age, the imagination became less adventurous after one had gone through every single adventure that could possibly be ventured upon. More so, once you'd gone through enough adventures, you lost the interest in venturing in on more, as you discovered that supposed adventures almost always turned out to be less appealing than they initially presented themselves to be, illusions of excitement that fell flat after you'd gotten a taste of them.

Life, unthwarted by imagination and dreams, was plain and empty. There was nothing to it once you came to see it in its purest form. Nothing. It was the way Cole saw it now. Hopelessness was the default mode and should be everyone's default mode too. There was no reason to hope, because what you were hoping for, what you thought would be the turning point of everything was also nothing, sheer vanity as Ephesians always harped. It was Nothing. Life was nothing. He was nothing. Nothing was Nothing.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, Coley, but I really think you need to see a psychiatrist," Susan said beside his bed, her hand treading his hair. He wanted to wave it away, to get her away from him. It disgusted him. How she'd said, Coley. It was only Jane who had ever called him Coley, and Susan's calling him that made her seem pretentious, trying to steal the position she would never be able to. She would never, in a million years (that is, assuming he would even live that long) be Jane. Cole shook the thought from his head. She was filling up Jane's position. She was his girlfriend after all, but she would never be as good a girlfriend as Jane ever was even if she had all the qualities Jane had possessed, even if she looked like Jane. She was never ever good enough so long as she didn't have Jane's soul. Jane's death made him believe in the concept of soul-mating. There was only one person that the universe had matched with you, a person so irreplaceable that all others fell out of place. Others like Susan.

"For the last time, Susan...I'm not depressed," Cole said, shifting to the wall. He made it appear as though he'd done the shifting to lessen his discomfort, but it was in reality, to be as far away from Susan as possible.

"You've been talking all weird lately." Susan sighed. "You've been talking too much about heaven and hell and death and—"

Cole cut in. "People babble when they're worried you know."

"Worried?" Susan said. "I don't think you're worried, Cole. I think you've resigned."

"Resigned," Cole muttered to himself. What a word choice.

Susan continued talking, as her usual garrulous self often did. "I studied psychology Coley. You know that. And people talk the way you 're talking when they've given up on life. You see, like is a game. You're either in it, or you're not. In the latter case, one can say you've resigned, but it's..."

Cole blocked his mind to her voice. She was annoying bar none, always talking and never listening. One would think, after all the years she spent studying psychology, that she would gain the self-consciousness to realize how much of a pest she was to others, that she would know when to stop blabbing endlessly, that she would recognize that she was not — and would never — be needed.

"—So yeah, that's why I think you're depressed. Life is not over for you, Cole. It's just cancer, and you're perfectly healthy."

Cole shook his head. Stupidity was intolerable. "Healthy with cancer, I see. What a contradiction."

"My point is, you're just fifty-one. You're too young to kick the bucket."

Kick the bucket! In her case, a euphemism sounded more offensive than it was meant to.

"Cancer is non-discriminatory, dear," Cole said, hearing the exaggerated sweetness in his own voice. "Young or not young, you can still die."

Susan only winced at him, as though in shock at what he'd just said. Or perhaps her brain cells were incapable of comprehending such basic knowledge. Cole sighed. He was getting extremely bitter. He could feel it in his negative thought patterns, in how increasingly averse he was growing towards everyone and everything. He was about to apologise to Susan when she cut in, as always.

"Samantha told me Mallory's going out with that boy..."

Like a bulb being switched on, Cole's senses suddenly grew alert. "What boy?"

"That one she met that day in the restaurant. The one that introduced her to Starlight.."

Cole rose his brows. "Jason Trevor, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"That unscrupulous, uncultured ignoramus," Cole said, through his teeth. He'd never had a liking for that boy. As a matter of fact, all he felt towards him was simmering hostility. If he could manipulate time, he would have gone back in time and stopped Mallory from meeting him. He was a bad influence on her. She'd changed drastically ever since she met him, and her radical metamorphosis had always befuddled Cole. Too much ambition was capable of causing such a drastic change, but it wasn't quite enough. It required something more powerful, something more influencing, an element called love. Why Mallory would be interested in someone of Jason's character, he didn't know. But one thing was sure, the idiot had murdered his Mallory, turned her into something unrecognizable.

"What are you thinking?" Susan asked, peering closer to him, as though to see into his head and read his thoughts.

"None of your business," Cole barked. He was back to his cold, spiteful mood.

Susan frowned at him, and for a minute, his hopelessness dissolved into non-existence. He hoped for a minute that Susan would get the brains to realize Cole didn't have a liking for her and call their relationship off. But she didn't. The frown on her face melted into a smile, that smile she always put on when she didn't want to engage in conflict. That was another thing he about her, her overly high agreeableness, her over-willingness to avoid conflict. Maybe if she'd been a little more feisty, more adventurous, more ambitious like Jane, he would've taken more interest in her. She was too clingy for security.

"Your phone's ringing," Susan pointed out. She reached over to hand it over to him. It was an unknown caller. Cole hardly ever had anyone he knew call him, much less an unknown one. It baffled him, scared him, made him feel something he hadn't had in a long time. Thrill.

"You gonna pick it?" Susan asked, her eyes full of desperate curiosity.

Cole ignored her and picked the call. "Yes, how can I help you, please?"

The line went dead for a long while, then, "Thirty years, Cole. Thirty years and I'm still winning."

"What the hell are you talking ab—"He stopped, the realisation dawning on him. "It's you..."

"Long time no see Cole."

"Lewis," Cole breathed. "How are you still—How are you alive?"

"That's not important." He laughed. "What's important is that I've won."

"Won what?"

"Oh, you'll see. You'll see very soon..."

And then the line went dead.