(Initial apology for the larger font, it's so I can read what I'm writing)
"It began with an autumn breeze." She told me, looking out the window of this little clinical cell we made for her. She never looked away from the outside every time I walked into her room. Never knew why, but it was almost melancholic. Almost. Nothing was particularly wrong, and I had always done my best to ensure she was treated with whatever she asked for. Well behaved, relatively quiet, enjoys the company of males over females. I click my pen a couple more times to keep my hands busy as she spoke to me, in a voice as empty as her look.
"Two kids, running along an unused railway with the green-turning-golden leaves raining on them like wedding confetti. The whole world belonging to only us, right? The way the rocks felt against our sandals and between our toes while skipping along the rusted irons."
Her toes scrunch a little at mention of her sandals, with the rest of her shuffling up the windowsill a bit so she wouldn't fall off again. But I nodded along at her story, jotting down the key notes of what she wanted to describe. All of it being rather standard for recounting something memorable, like a flash of life we hold close for whatever reason we deem significant. I pushed my glasses up my face a little, trying to ignore the dust marks left on them.
"I always stood on the left, they always stood on the right. Balancing along the lines as best we could, occasionally pushing each other teasingly to see who slipped first. Then, we start all over again while holding hands. That warm feeling of just being present in whatever moment took my fancy. And each time bei-"
"Mixed somewhere between sorrow and serenity. Yeah, I know." I said, given this is the ninth time I've heard this soliloquy by now. "You always wore your daisy dress, the one with a small stain on the neck where you forgot you were holding ice cream one day. Mama was really mad about it."
Her head lowered, and I think I could make out a small smile. Perhaps she liked the idea that someone was actually paying attention to what she said. Maybe she was trying to be polite after I interrupted her. I don't know; but it was still nice to see at least a small change. I switched the colour on my pen, just to give myself something new to look at, even if I needed to re-write it in black later on.
"You mentioned mama kept telling you to play on the tracks, that one slip would hurt you. But you wouldn't ever see that boy otherwise. Never had any other friends, as you said they'd all treat you really weirdly, like a 'saint' as you put it. Made you uncomfortable."
She nodded as I spoke, keeping that smile on her face for a little bit longer now. More pronounced on her features, in a way. Likes the attention, I guess.
"He never wanted to come onto my side of the track. Scared to hurt me or take me away, he said. Never really knew what he meant by that. He always held my hand no matter what. I was happy to let him take me wherever the tracks ran off to, but he'd always be called away before we could go anywhere beyond the split. Said he was always 'needing to see someone'."
She lowers her head from the window, briefly, looking to her feet. Her golden white hair covers her face near completely and leaves a silhouette from the sunlight beside her. A vague expression; one I could never really make out completely. I don't think anybody ever saw her real beauty since she arrived here. Made me more and more curious each time I saw her head tilt, even a little bit.
"Did you ever ask him why he couldn't stay a little longer? Maybe you could've gone with him."
She shrunk down again, clutching away the image of her face behind her knees. It always happened, as the day went on. She'd shrink herself away more and more as the day went past. Doctors wondered if it was some kind of narcolepsy. But the way she carried herself, it seemed more like emotional fatigue.
"I wanted to, but they never let me ask before they went. And each time I brought it up, he'd just smile at me and we'd keep on walking. He'd let my hand go and just keep balancing along with me. We never spoke much after the first time I asked him, but we'd always have little bouts of laughter and conversations. Usually about what we saw during the day."
I nodded along again, as if I understood what she meant. Maybe it was because I had felt the same thing, or that I was feeling what she was describing a little too keenly. My pen stopped and the pages were left blank. I couldn't even remember what I had written in it recently; just flicking through empty pages and pretending to scribble.
"He always said he never saw much. But it was relaxing for him, helping people in ways only he could. Said to me he helped people go to sleep, but never more than that. But every time I looked at him, I could never make out his face."
She looked towards me, but the rays behind her darkened her face so much that I couldn't make out more than where her eyes relatively were, and where her lips were. She didn't seem to look at -me- though, but around me instead. Just spinning her eyes around me in near perfect rotation.
"And he would always tell me the same thing. Each time he left me to go across the switching table on my own."
My mouth began to move on its own volition, as if by reflex.
"I'll see you soon, Sommar."
Her eyes closed as she turned back to face the window again, relaxing her form and swinging her left leg against the wall idly. I didn't even know why I said that. I shouldn't even know this girl as anything more than a patient. Looking down at my notes again, that's all I saw written on the page. 'I'll see you soon, Sommar.'
"And every time that boy would wave me goodbye, everything always got a little bit darker. The clouds would come overhead, or the sun would set beneath the horizon and I'd have to make my way back home alone. And Mama would scold me every time for coming home late."
I just closed the book I had in my hand, idly tossing it onto the bed along with my pen. Didn't have anything to say, nor anything that'd make sense. Couldn't even bring myself to look at her. I look at the floor and... well, I dunno. Everything just kinda failed me at the moment.
"I wanted that boy to walk me home once. Just once. But each time.... you just left."
Looking back up at the girl, she wasn't even acknowledging my presence again. Maybe waiting, maybe just hoping that some kind of excuse would make it all okay again. But there was nothing. Not a damn thing in my head that'd explain any of it. Not a damn thing of why I understood this. And as I kept trying to make some sense of it, the more I found myself irritated beyond belief.
"What exactly do you mean, right now..? I don't know you, we've only met a few days ago when I was given your case, Miss-"
"My name is Sommar. You know that."
She sounded rather blunted this time, as if offended. How would I know? The interview was making me uncomfortable, to say the least. Makes more sense as to why none of the others managed to get anything from her.
"You never call me that anymore. You just sit there with your book and your pen and write the same thing over and over again."
Excuse you...? Ex-CUSE you!? Since when have you ever-
"Looked in your book?"
I sat there, stunned. Is she reading my mind? I was keeping a rather strong poker face, as we're always taught-
"You're not getting it. Again. We've already been through this, so many times. So many tiring times. And you can't even remember my name."
Sorry, what? I know your name, it's Sommar, right?
"That's the name YOU gave me, yeah. But that's not my name."
I sigh, collect my thoughts into my hands and stand up. Sitting down will just make me more anxious at this point.
"If I gave you the name Sommar, but you won't tell me YOUR name, then isn't it better to just call you Sommar?"
She looks back again me, face still concealed by a black canvas from the light reflecting towards me instead of at her. She doesn't say anything, but just glares before turning back to the Window again.
"The sun is going down. Time's nearly up."
I look out the window, and sure enough, the sun was dipping past the horizon. Had I really been here all day? I still remember driving into work this morning, book in hand and the pen being a-
"Your pen is fine, you're just twiddling it too much. Replace the spring again and it'll be okay."
Never gunna get used to that, I can already tell...
"I'm gunna go to bed. You can leave now; you'll come back again tomorrow anyway."
What do you mean, I'll be back again tomorrow? I was only meant to be here for one day-
"You'll always come back. And we'll balance along those train tracks again, like we used to. But not today. Someday, maybe."
She stood up, looking at me and gives the sensation of a smile. Her feet tap against the sterile white floor, as if she were wearing sandals.
"You're just like me, you know. Maybe..."
I'll see you soon, Jaci...
And like that, she's gone. In just the blink of an eye. I searched around the wards, no sign of her. Checked in all the offices, not even a mention on a post-it note. I walk out of the building and called her last known residence, mama didn't even recognise my voice.
She had just... gone.
The moon stood in front of me, through that window. I didn't feel tired, though. If anything, I felt comfortable. Just looking out towards that well kept garden, with the mix of birch and sequoia waving back at me in greeting. I smiled, waving back, as futile as it was. Behind the metal gating, a set of train tracks trail off towards lands unknown. Looking around the room, probably best to take a shower and spend the night here. There are spare clothes and a washing machine in here, so it shouldn't be too much an imposition.
Steam filled the whole room, and so I just waited. Sitting there, waving back at the trees who waved Summer goodbye. It was cosy, at the window, I can understand why she liked it so much. So I sat there. As she did. It was a kind of home, it was. And all I wanted to know was-
...
"It began with an autumn breeze." I told them, looking out of the window in this little clinical cell they made for me. I never like looking away from the outside whenever someone came into my room. They never asked why, just assumed I was being melancholic. Usually. Nothing was particularly wrong; they always made sure I was treated to whatever I asked for. I behave, stay relatively quiet, enjoy the company of females over males. And each time, they click their pen twice or thrice to keep their hands busy while I speak to them; in a voice as empty as my gaze.
"It began with an autumn breeze." She told me, looking out the window of this little clinical cell we made for her. She never looked away from the outside every time I walked into her room. Never knew why, but it was almost melancholic. Almost. Nothing was particularly wrong, and I had always done my best to ensure she was treated with whatever she asked for. Well behaved, relatively quiet, enjoys the company of males over females. I click my pen a couple more times to keep my hands busy as she spoke to me, in a voice as empty as her look.
"Two kids, running along an unused railway with the green-turning-golden leaves raining on them like wedding confetti. The whole world belonging to only us, right? The way the rocks felt against our sandals and between our toes while skipping along the rusted irons."
Her toes scrunch a little at mention of her sandals, with the rest of her shuffling up the windowsill a bit so she wouldn't fall off again. But I nodded along at her story, jotting down the key notes of what she wanted to describe. All of it being rather standard for recounting something memorable, like a flash of life we hold close for whatever reason we deem significant. I pushed my glasses up my face a little, trying to ignore the dust marks left on them.
"I always stood on the left, they always stood on the right. Balancing along the lines as best we could, occasionally pushing each other teasingly to see who slipped first. Then, we start all over again while holding hands. That warm feeling of just being present in whatever moment took my fancy. And each time bei-"
"Mixed somewhere between sorrow and serenity. Yeah, I know." I said, given this is the ninth time I've heard this soliloquy by now. "You always wore your daisy dress, the one with a small stain on the neck where you forgot you were holding ice cream one day. Mama was really mad about it."
Her head lowered, and I think I could make out a small smile. Perhaps she liked the idea that someone was actually paying attention to what she said. Maybe she was trying to be polite after I interrupted her. I don't know; but it was still nice to see at least a small change. I switched the colour on my pen, just to give myself something new to look at, even if I needed to re-write it in black later on.
"You mentioned mama kept telling you to play on the tracks, that one slip would hurt you. But you wouldn't ever see that boy otherwise. Never had any other friends, as you said they'd all treat you really weirdly, like a 'saint' as you put it. Made you uncomfortable."
She nodded as I spoke, keeping that smile on her face for a little bit longer now. More pronounced on her features, in a way. Likes the attention, I guess.
"He never wanted to come onto my side of the track. Scared to hurt me or take me away, he said. Never really knew what he meant by that. He always held my hand no matter what. I was happy to let him take me wherever the tracks ran off to, but he'd always be called away before we could go anywhere beyond the split. Said he was always 'needing to see someone'."
She lowers her head from the window, briefly, looking to her feet. Her golden white hair covers her face near completely and leaves a silhouette from the sunlight beside her. A vague expression; one I could never really make out completely. I don't think anybody ever saw her real beauty since she arrived here. Made me more and more curious each time I saw her head tilt, even a little bit.
"Did you ever ask him why he couldn't stay a little longer? Maybe you could've gone with him."
She shrunk down again, clutching away the image of her face behind her knees. It always happened, as the day went on. She'd shrink herself away more and more as the day went past. Doctors wondered if it was some kind of narcolepsy. But the way she carried herself, it seemed more like emotional fatigue.
"I wanted to, but they never let me ask before they went. And each time I brought it up, he'd just smile at me and we'd keep on walking. He'd let my hand go and just keep balancing along with me. We never spoke much after the first time I asked him, but we'd always have little bouts of laughter and conversations. Usually about what we saw during the day."
I nodded along again, as if I understood what she meant. Maybe it was because I had felt the same thing, or that I was feeling what she was describing a little too keenly. My pen stopped and the pages were left blank. I couldn't even remember what I had written in it recently; just flicking through empty pages and pretending to scribble.
"He always said he never saw much. But it was relaxing for him, helping people in ways only he could. Said to me he helped people go to sleep, but never more than that. But every time I looked at him, I could never make out his face."
She looked towards me, but the rays behind her darkened her face so much that I couldn't make out more than where her eyes relatively were, and where her lips were. She didn't seem to look at -me- though, but around me instead. Just spinning her eyes around me in near perfect rotation.
"And he would always tell me the same thing. Each time he left me to go across the switching table on my own."
My mouth began to move on its own volition, as if by reflex.
"I'll see you soon, Sommar."
Her eyes closed as she turned back to face the window again, relaxing her form and swinging her left leg against the wall idly. I didn't even know why I said that. I shouldn't even know this girl as anything more than a patient. Looking down at my notes again, that's all I saw written on the page. 'I'll see you soon, Sommar.'
"And every time that boy would wave me goodbye, everything always got a little bit darker. The clouds would come overhead, or the sun would set beneath the horizon and I'd have to make my way back home alone. And Mama would scold me every time for coming home late."
I just closed the book I had in my hand, idly tossing it onto the bed along with my pen. Didn't have anything to say, nor anything that'd make sense. Couldn't even bring myself to look at her. I look at the floor and... well, I dunno. Everything just kinda failed me at the moment.
"I wanted that boy to walk me home once. Just once. But each time.... you just left."
Looking back up at the girl, she wasn't even acknowledging my presence again. Maybe waiting, maybe just hoping that some kind of excuse would make it all okay again. But there was nothing. Not a damn thing in my head that'd explain any of it. Not a damn thing of why I understood this. And as I kept trying to make some sense of it, the more I found myself irritated beyond belief.
"What exactly do you mean, right now..? I don't know you, we've only met a few days ago when I was given your case, Miss-"
"My name is Sommar. You know that."
She sounded rather blunted this time, as if offended. How would I know? The interview was making me uncomfortable, to say the least. Makes more sense as to why none of the others managed to get anything from her.
"You never call me that anymore. You just sit there with your book and your pen and write the same thing over and over again."
Excuse you...? Ex-CUSE you!? Since when have you ever-
"Looked in your book?"
I sat there, stunned. Is she reading my mind? I was keeping a rather strong poker face, as we're always taught-
"You're not getting it. Again. We've already been through this, so many times. So many tiring times. And you can't even remember my name."
Sorry, what? I know your name, it's Sommar, right?
"That's the name YOU gave me, yeah. But that's not my name."
I sigh, collect my thoughts into my hands and stand up. Sitting down will just make me more anxious at this point.
"If I gave you the name Sommar, but you won't tell me YOUR name, then isn't it better to just call you Sommar?"
She looks back again me, face still concealed by a black canvas from the light reflecting towards me instead of at her. She doesn't say anything, but just glares before turning back to the Window again.
"The sun is going down. Time's nearly up."
I look out the window, and sure enough, the sun was dipping past the horizon. Had I really been here all day? I still remember driving into work this morning, book in hand and the pen being a-
"Your pen is fine, you're just twiddling it too much. Replace the spring again and it'll be okay."
Never gunna get used to that, I can already tell...
"I'm gunna go to bed. You can leave now; you'll come back again tomorrow anyway."
What do you mean, I'll be back again tomorrow? I was only meant to be here for one day-
"You'll always come back. And we'll balance along those train tracks again, like we used to. But not today. Someday, maybe."
She stood up, looking at me and gives the sensation of a smile. Her feet tap against the sterile white floor, as if she were wearing sandals.
"You're just like me, you know. Maybe..."
I'll see you soon, Jaci...
And like that, she's gone. In just the blink of an eye. I searched around the wards, no sign of her. Checked in all the offices, not even a mention on a post-it note. I walk out of the building and called her last known residence, mama didn't even recognise my voice.
She had just... gone.
The moon stood in front of me, through that window. I didn't feel tired, though. If anything, I felt comfortable. Just looking out towards that well kept garden, with the mix of birch and sequoia waving back at me in greeting. I smiled, waving back, as futile as it was. Behind the metal gating, a set of train tracks trail off towards lands unknown. Looking around the room, probably best to take a shower and spend the night here. There are spare clothes and a washing machine in here, so it shouldn't be too much an imposition.
Steam filled the whole room, and so I just waited. Sitting there, waving back at the trees who waved Summer goodbye. It was cosy, at the window, I can understand why she liked it so much. So I sat there. As she did. It was a kind of home, it was. And all I wanted to know was-
...
"It began with an autumn breeze." I told them, looking out of the window in this little clinical cell they made for me. I never like looking away from the outside whenever someone came into my room. They never asked why, just assumed I was being melancholic. Usually. Nothing was particularly wrong; they always made sure I was treated to whatever I asked for. I behave, stay relatively quiet, enjoy the company of females over males. And each time, they click their pen twice or thrice to keep their hands busy while I speak to them; in a voice as empty as my gaze.