The next day, I woke up feeling really hungover. It was as if we had a night again, like the old days. I checked my phone and saw a missed call from an unknown number. I called back and someone answered but they didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Hello?”, I asked
“Hi…”
I recognized her voice immediately. “Oh, hey. I’ve been trying to call you…how...how have you been?”
“Uhm…I’m okay…”
“Cool…so, what’s it like there?”
“It’s nice…but I kind of missed you…so I phoned you last night…but I don’t think we should be doing this. I’m sorry.”
“Wait-”, she hung up.
She was right. We shouldn’t talk. That would only make things harder for us…but I wanted to talk to her so bad. I had a lot of pent up emotions that I needed to let go…so I did what I knew was the best solution. I wrote a poem. Later on, in the day, my mum was awake and wanted to talk to me. I went into her room
“Darling?”
“Yes, mum.”
“Come sit next to me, darling.”, I sat down next to her. “So…the doctor told me that there’s been an earlier opening for the surgery…”
“For when?”
“Two weeks…”
“What? So…so…are you going to get the surgery in two weeks?”
“Maybe, but I wanted to check with you first, darling. I don’t want to put any unnecessary stress on you, now that you’ve got school and maybe you have other things you aren’t telling me about, and I know you have other things you aren’t telling me about…so what do you think, darling?”
“I…I don’t know. Why get it earlier? It wouldn’t make a difference…”
“Well, actually, the surgeon who’s available in two weeks has a better success record than the one who will be available in a few months…this surgeon could probably do a much better job…”
“Oh…”
“I know you’re worried, my baby, but I’ll be fine…okay? The surgeons know what they’re doing.”
“Yeah…”
“But I won’t go through with this if you aren’t ready…”
“I know you want to go through with it, mum. I’ll…be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes…”
I wasn’t sure at all…but I didn’t want to stand in the way of my mum’s happiness. She told the doctor to make the date for the surgery official. It was happening, for real…which made everything feel so much different. Before, the surgery felt hypothetical, but now there was an actual deadline, which made it so tangible. I wasn’t aware of how afraid I was. I don’t think anything scared me as much as the possibilities that my mind created. I had to calm down…I had to…so I went to Abel’s house to tell him about the surgery.
“Hey, man…what’s wrong?”, he asked
“I…I don’t…know what’s wrong with me…”, I began hyperventilating.
“Okay, woah…sit down, slowly and breath, okay?”
“Okay…”, I sat down.
“Right, now just keep breathing, bro. I understand that you’re scared but just stay calm. Focus on one thing. Something that calms you…something that makes you feel safe.”, he said
I thought about the song my mum sang for me when I was a child. I was breathing heavy, but slower.
“Okay, there you go…now let’s just talk about this.”, he said
“Okay…”
“Now…tell me how you feel.”
“I…I’m scared…of losing my mum…”
“Okay…I understand. It’s okay to feel that way. I would be scared too. Just know that your mum will be okay.”
“How do you know?”, I asked
“Well…I don’t…but no one does. We can only hope…and hope can prevail.”
“You see…that’s …that’s not enough, I want to know that she’s going to be okay…okay? I want to know!”, I shouted
“Bro, please…I’m just trying to help you…”
“No! I don’t want to believe, okay? I want to know! I’m tired of faith and…and that bullshit, I want to know. I’m just…I’m just damn tired. I’m tired of not knowing anything and everything being uncertain, I want to know, and I want proof, okay? I want to see with my own eyes, what you’re talking about, okay? I want to see with my own eyes, that my mum is going to be okay.”
“I understand, Sebastian…but in life we don’t have certainty…”
I got up, abruptly and left. I knew deep down that he was just trying to help me, and I probably should have listened to him…but in moments of crisis, sometimes we just break down. Once I got home, I closed my room door and cried. I wished that I could see into the future, but maybe that power isn’t all it’s made out to be. What if you saw something you didn’t like? Can you change the future, or is it carved in stone? Maybe…some things were meant to happen, or have to happen, to make other things happen. That’s the whole fate argument I had with Abel…I don’t know how he did it…how he had faith, I mean. I admire those with faith…or at least those of noble faith. The faith that, in the words of Dostoevsky, is born from a furnace of doubt. “Are you going to speak to me? When will it be my turn to have faith? I’ve studied all of the great philosophers, even those who had faith. I tried doing what they did, to have faith. I tried doing what Abel did to have faith. Why isn’t it working? Why don’t I believe in you? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why are you silent?”, I thought. After I cried for a while, I fell asleep and had a dream.
I was on a pier at a beach…and I had a feeling of Déjà vu. I stood on the edge and turned around. I let my weight pull me down and fell. As I fell, I saw everything upside down. The sun was just above the horizon, sinking. The sky was becoming dark, but the light kept it at bay, fusing with it, causing waves of grey, red and yellow. There was a lighthouse to my right, that was shining a solid beam of light on me. There were three ships in the distance. Two were stationary, and one was disappearing over the horizon. As the sun set, I saw it’s silhouette in front of the half-sun. Suddenly, the sky morphed into a clear night sky, with an abundance of stars and the moon. A shooting star whisked across the sky. I felt a sense of oneness with the universe…as if everything were where it needed to be, or where it was intended to be. The lighthouse was still shining a solid beam of light on me, but the three ships had disappeared. Then the moon started to move in the sky and circled in and out of my field of view. It started slowly but began to pick up speed. It got faster and faster until it was so fast that it looked like there was a solid horizontal streak of light in the sky. Then there was a sudden white flash of lightning and the clear sky quickly changed into a huge storm. The rain pelted against my face and I could hear it smashing against the pier. The ocean raged hard and loud, with the smell of salt all around and the sound of roaring thunder in the distance was intimidating. Suddenly, a huge wave toppled the lighthouse that was shining the light on me and I screamed. The dark sea had black waves with white foam, like from the mouth of a rabid beast with fangs that gave off the stench of death. Each wave tumbled upon the other, with the one behind rejoicing as it pushed the one in front into a six feet deep grave, only to face the same fate itself a moment later. It called me like a siren, to give me release from the suffering. It called me so that the salt could dissolve my skin and turn my flesh pale, like the moon that anchored in the ocean that once befell the sky hours ago. Wouldn’t I have had some peace in having my being pulled apart by those waves that cascaded upon one another…wouldn’t I have felt like I belonged…as my body was pulled apart by Poseidon himself…by the sea herself? Wouldn’t I have been a part of something? A part of her. I wanted the suffering to end. “Just give me an end. Why won’t you give me an end? Why do you watch and wait in silence? Shouldn’t the suffering of your child be enough to call him home? Why don’t you call me? Please. Make it stop. Make it stop…I don’t want to go on…anymore. Please…”. I then entered the sea, and everything was perfectly silent. The weight of the water compressed my chest. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t mind. I was comfortable. I saw a light above me, fading away, slowly. I looked down and saw a giant, dark, monster figure approaching me… but I wasn’t scared at all…instead I welcomed it…and then I woke up. I was drenched in sweat and shivering. It all felt so real.
I picked up my phone and saw a missed call from Vanessa, which is when I remembered the poem I wrote. I phoned her, so that I could get her address, because I wanted to send her the poem. I could’ve sent it over text, but I knew that she would want the real thing. Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick up, so I asked Kate. She told me Vanessa’s address, and that sending her the poem was a bad idea, because Vanessa would hang onto it, which would only hurt her more. I had to let Vanessa read it though…so I decided to send it anyway. Before I could give it to the post office, I read it one last time.
The Red and the Blue
The face…your face
Your face acts as a brush of paint upon my life
The canvas is set, the artist’s hand glides over the blank
What do I see?
I see white, still
Once more the artists hand cascades upon the canvas
What do I see?
I see red
I see blood
I see a sky kissed with the falling sun
How it emulates my spirit!
The star that dives into the abyss
As one falls in love
So too does love fall onto Atlas
What a burden, to carry the world
Why give up your life for one girl?
Is it even she that matters to me?
No
I seek not the person but the beauty
That is what creates the art
Without it I am purposeless
I have no prose
No muse!
If I am not breathless, I am all too alive
For beauty kills the darkness inside
I am inspired by the aurora of the day
There is no aura to match hers
How banal all things seem?
How reality is pulled from its seams
When her beauty is invited out to play
To accept it is to die
Why would you ever want to live?
Flow with its waters
Let it collect, until it’s a river
Then fall over its edge
You will die a martyr
Let the world see what you do to me
Unknown yet tormenting
Let the world know, that in kerosene
The passion lies still and blinding
Let the heart flow with red, as is the artist’s intention
Let it then flow with blue with little or no contention
Let it fill the sky, with her as its background
Let it harbour what fly’s
The foolish who think beauty can be touched
Let it replicate the ocean with its glare
The Blue eradicates the red nightmare
However, it does not rid the red
For they must be commensurate
The red is the light, as it tints the blue with vibrant hue
The blue is what shall keep the red at an abate
For the red consumes
She is the end…my end
Your gaze tempts my soul
The eyes set my heart ablaze
There is no way out from your glare
I have no say in this nightmare
I am a passenger onboard myself
Our locked vision makes me hoard my emotion
I write these poems to open the gates and let out the ocean
It cascades upon the surface of my essence
The endless sea elucidates me, upon your viewing
I feel trapped
Who is truly free?
Whether thy prison is love, lust, hate or fate
You are encumbered, as am I, she is a prison
I must burn myself for the phoenix to be risen
I have projected myself onto her
I see not an individual, but a mirror
You are an illusion
Yet I am constantly fooled
With hearts intent and mind’s exclusion
Why must you be so cruel?
The beauty judges me on its high pedestal
I cannot see, for hubris is in my presence
If I were blind, I would still see you
In your darkness, I provide my own incandescence
I shall escape
I WILL ESCAPE.
But alas I still want you
Swimming in your eyes, I find myself wanting to drown
I can’t let you go
My heart is anchored by your golden crown
How do we know whether our star-crossed paths were meant to be?
How did you give me the ability to wipe the sunset from the sea?
With my words, I paint pictures
They haunt my dreams
I wish nothing but love upon you, but only with me…
Is that okay?
Is that love?
I don’t know, but I know what I feel
I can’t get rid of the shadow, that was cast upon the earth by a blind sun
Its eyes are the window to the soul
I fear I will remember you, even when I grow old
Even in the loss of youth, I will find myself drinking from a fountain
A spring of memories…
That’s all I’m left with…and that’s why I can’t stand it
Take what you gave, back from me
I don’t want to look at it anymore…
Its terrifying nature echoes the Red and the Blue
Goodbye, my love
I will miss you.
I left the post office feeling lighter…but at the same time anchored by reality. “It’s for the best.”, I thought.
YOU ARE READING
Mère
Ficção GeralA teenage boy wakes up, formless, in a dark place. He cannot remember how he came to be in this place, so he must search through his painful memories to recall. On this journey, he experiences his previous existential, religious, and spiritual cris...
