XXV | Someone Tells A Story
❦
I’m scared.
I’m scared
to open my eyes.
What terror
awaits me
when I do?
Hey, hey, hey… Fifi.
I’m scared.
If I open my eyes,
something will have changed.
The world will be different.
I won’t know if it’s real
or not again.
A hand
touches mine.
I can’t move
but the hand
strokes
the back of mine.
I’ll tell you a story,
Tammie says.
You used to tell me stories too.
Just listen to my voice
Relax…
What story should I tell?
Tammie?
My body
feels
like lead.
I try to
open my eyes.
Pinpricks of light poke at me.
The silhouette in front of me
is blurry.
Tammie smiles
down
at me.
Butterflies dance in her grey eyes
as she pushes me back down
and covers my eyes
with a hand
that reeks of vomit.
I lift my hand
but it can’t
move.
Don’t leave me behind.
The words don’t leave
my mouth.
It’s better like this.
You left me behind…
❦
In the darkness,
I listen to Tammie talking.
A monitor beeps
in the background.
A generator hums.
My parents are not like yours.
I am nothing
like you.
But maybe because of that
we’re exactly
the same.
You didn’t dream until you were eight.
I didn’t dream
because my parents dreamt for me.
An elite secondary school.
The top junior college.
A degree in medicine.
A career as a doctor.
There are no doctors
in my family.
‘You’ll be the first. Isn’t that great?’
I couldn’t object
even if I wanted to
because I wasn’t allowed
to have a dream
of my own.
So their dream,
my dream,
was also my nightmare.
I rebelled.
Not once
did I seriously
consider
whether that dream
could be mine.
I registered for SOTA
instead of that atas girls’ school.
at that arts school,
I danced.
Not because I liked it, no.
Because my parents considered it
obscene.
‘That’s not dancing. That’s porn.’
When I joined the dance club
in primary school
apparently I had some talent in it.
It’s my dream
to be totally different
from the nightmare
my parents want for me.
I got kicked out of SOTA
eventually.
Once it became obvious
I had no actual passion or drive
to put in any effort.
It was too much work
for a rebellion.
I went to an average secondary school after that.
Maybe not average.
Because that’s where I met you.
Do you remember?
No.
I can’t remember that, Tammie.
We sat next to each other in class.
Sec three.
We talked very little.
You weren’t good
at conversation.
But you tried so hard.
You were cute.
We talked a lot about dreams too.
You asked for mine
out of nowhere.
I didn’t have one, I told you.
You said I was lying,
that you also tell this lie
because your dream
can’t be understood.
You know, Fifi,
that’s when I decided
to be your friend.
Hahaha…is that weird?
A cold gloved hand
on my cheeks,
a voice telling me,
‘Open your mouth’.
Water trickles down my throat.
Swallowing
hurts
at first.
Then it gets easier.
I can speak again.
‘Why don’t I remember you at all?’
Tammie removes her hand
from my eyes.
They focus on her.
The lights above
are turned off
so I see Tammie’s eyes in their true grey colour.
An apologetic smile.
That’s a story for another time.
‘I want to hear it now.’
Her smile flickers
like a glitch.
Fifi, you’re still so impatient.
The nurses
lean over
to check my vitals
crowding Tammie out.
They untie my hands
for a short while.
I tell them there’s no need
to strap them back
because I need to scratch my hair.
‘It’s itchy.’
The pretty nurse tells me
she’ll
comb my hair for me.
I’d protest more,
but
I’m distracted
because
I notice
Tammie’s not in the room anymore.
❦
