Finally

Part 40: What Goes On When You're Gone?

We weren't expecting that.

That outburst.

That abrupt departure.

It honestly scared Agnes.

She may have expected it from a new patient or a stranger on the street.

But not her dear friend and college.

Not the sweet woman, who helped shape her a bit.

I had left Vincent with her. I had followed Helen at a safe distance to observe her behaviors and where she was going.

I wasn't the least bit surprised it was a supply closet. In fact I would have guessed that or the stairwell.

I wish it was the stairwell.

I heard her scream at the top of her lungs and then everything coming crashing down. I heard her drop to the floor in anguish and gasp for air to return to her lungs.

It was when she went silent that I became worried.

Silence in her state could mean a few things.

She's calmed herself down. Doubtful.

She passed out.

Or.

Her heart gave out from the stress.

When she didn't answer me, it became a worse knot in my gut. I tried to get the door open without hurting her. I tried to coax her into calming down and stepping aside.

Eventually, I just had to sit outside the door and wait. Agonizingly, I must add.

But what really bothered me.

Was her calling me Mo.

Mo as in Mohammad.

Mohammad as in her deceased fiancé.

She said it as though it was true. As though she truly believed I was him. Then she denied she had.

No doubt she had a seizure in there.

I have no doubt whatsoever.

She just became so...docile and quiet after it all that now- sitting in the living room, I feel as if I should remain absolutely still because I fear something- anything I do- may trigger more seizures for her.

"Where's Vincent?" She asks quietly without turning her gaze to me.

"Upstairs sleeping, Love."

She put him there.

And she doesn't remember.

This isn't good- not at all.

"Oh...right." She feigns remembrance and fiddles with her chipped nail polish on her left hand. "Luna?"

"Napping as well. She had a long day with Ig." She simply nods in understanding and then finally looks at me.

"Noway Norway Northway Norman." Um...what?

"Huh?"

"It was a story Mo used to tell me." Mo again.

Why all of a sudden does she want to talk about him?

Not that I mind.

I'm just curious.

"Oh...what was it about?" I ask curiously and she smiles before looking back at her nails.

"There once was a man named Norman. Norman Norville Nathan. Norman didn't feel normal, because Norman was a Northman. Norman Norville Nathan never noticed his peculiar name. He never noticed anything, except what happened in Norway. He lived in Norway nearly all his life. He never knew what was South, West, or East. Only North of the never ending narrow plain. Noway Norway Northway Norman never knew the Nile. He never knew about a Globe and never walked more than nine miles. Now Norman heard Noah, a known Nordman of the North of Norway say, there was a nasty Nautical Knotter named Nancy, who never nodded in a Northman's way. He said she tied them onto boats instead and would send them sailing out to sea. Showing them what the world was like and how they ought to be. He said she was a brash barrel chested broad. Who never knew a Northman's Niche. But Norman nudged Noah- knowing he never spoke the truth. So just to see if he was a liar, down to the docks they'd have to go and see. Norman and Noah nobly walked. They didn't dare dawdle as they dashed down the dancing docks. Until they happened upon a knotted haired woman, who nearly knocked them off. Noway Norway Northway Norman Norville Nathan never seen such a sight. For her beauty bounded outward like boulders and blond billowing locks at half his height. That he nearly forgot how to balance boldly on those dancing docks. So Nancy grabbed him quickly and knotted him a bow. Then tied him to the sailor's boat and out to sea he'd go. Now Noway Norway Northway Norman would never not know the world. For he sails around all tied down by the knot that Nancy did sew." She says it effortlessly. All the alliterations and words so easily bound together in such a poetic way.