I punched the wall, the searing pain, a welcoming, comforting, distraction. Again, and again, till a hazy red mark remained, a permanent stain on the wall. I closed my eyes, wanting it all to end. I just felt so tired.
I leaned my head against the wall for a second; everything seemed to be a blur. Everything seemed too gruelling, impossible. Could I still continue?
I took off my black coat, it's carefully ironed side, soon lay crumpled on the ground. The flower in the top pocket, a delicate red rose. Eternity? I crushed it in the palm of my hand.
Next I loosened my tie. The exact one which I had done over and over just this morning, standing in front of the mirror, frantic to make it perfect. I slumped down into a chair, rubbing my bloodshot eyes.
I needed to forget, if not forever, just for now till things seemed more bearable. I grabbed my keys and left, the door slamming shut behind me.
Even as I drove, the morning's events haunted me. No note, no message, no text, no phone call. No appearance at all. Ninety eight guests left waiting and offering me their words and sympathies.
I arrived at the bar, vaguely aware of my surroundings but mainly focused on the drink I was going to get. I sat into a chair, and indicated to the boy serving me I wanted the strongest he had. Money shoved in his hands soon soothed his qualms.
Had I known that it would happen? No, I was clueless but thinking now, she did leave a few clues, didn't she? The times she didn't answer the phone. The times she disappeared for a while, coming back making an excuse she was with friends.
It hurt, it hurt a lot. I resolved to not thinking about it, just downing shot after shot of a nameless alcohol. I don't get drunk easily, and most times it's a blessing, but right now all I wanted was the fuzzy feeling, oblivious to the world that alcohol could provide.
Soon the boy stopped providing me with alcohol, and my head slumped to the table, the two rings tight in my fist.
A surreal feeling, real at the time, but not so now. The feeling of watching through someone else’s eyes, privy to their thoughts, but at the same time disconnected. And here I was.
A white room, darkening with the fading light, plain and empty except for a single hospital like bed. Upon it lay a woman in her late twenties or early thirties. To put it simply, she was beautiful. Her long tumbling black hair was sprawled down her shoulders, partially covering her white patient clothing. Her face serene, almost sleeping yet somehow, I knew she was not. And where was I? Standing, still, staring down at her with a lump in my throat, unable to speak. Unable to utter a single sound.
How long this continued, I don’t know. In these circumstances, time takes on a transient quality and disappears fleetingly, neither asking for permission nor caring. What I did know though, was a strong heavy tone weighing down upon me. A tenseness that betrayed I was waiting for something. And when I returned my gaze to her face, I noticed the second tone, simultaneous with the first. An overwhelming sense of sadness, indescribable and unidentifiable. Did I know of something which I had since forgotten?
Again a passing of time, blank and empty, but next thing I knew I was gently pulling her up into sitting position, looping over her head a necklace. Gently, as if dealing with a fragile object, cracked and fractured, just about to shatter. I carefully cleared away her hair, sweeping it out from under the necklace. I remember giving her one last tight hug, despite her unconscious state and wanting to cry yet unable to. And what of the sense of waiting? It had been replaced as if I knew a certain time was approaching, was that why I had wanted a last hug? To grab a hold of the chance before it faded before my eyes.
What was approaching next, I don’t think I’ll ever know. Awaken rudely back into reality, lying in bed, and staring confused at the ceiling was where I was. But where was she? Who was she? Did I know her? Have I forgotten her? Why did I feel like crying? A dozen questions flooded my head, as the scene was still fresh in my mind. But as the days pass since that night my memory fades, til even her face becomes a blur of features, unknown to me. And as the calendar ticks away, I will probably be only able to remember fleeting glimpses through reading this entry, a reconstruction in itself. But I know this, if the opportunity arises, I wish I had spent a moment longer with her, despite the sorrow and uneasy nature to gain some answers and a conclusion. Maybe, just maybe, another night will bring an end to this chapter.
