The Note

Just two knocks on the door, and then the world fell silent. It happened rarely, but somehow, sometimes, the doctor's ears did hear silence. It had been a quiet day; a dead one. The sunshine felt bleak and lifeless. The weather had no soul. The birds didn't sing. The wind didn't traverse the landscape. It wasn't peculiar as it happens from time to time when nature takes a break but today, this absence had a presence.

The doctor moved his gaze away from the window and composed his thoughts. He couldn't keep his head full of ruminations while trying to understand the head of another. And he knew that from experience. He asked the stranger to come in, guessing it must be another patient, with another story, and he would have to enter its head and figure out the problem the best he could. Uneventfully, it was a patient. Fortunately, it was someone he hadn't seen before. A beautiful girl wearing the patients gown, with the sea painted in her eyes and the space wrapped around her head. The gown flowed over her features. She was tipping towards bieng thin, but wasn't quite there yet. She looked alive and her skin seemed phosphorescent.

"Have a seat, miss....?"

"Thank you." 

'She didn't want to disclose her name. That is not a patient who wants my help, at least willingly. She must have asked to visit and get evaluated by someone due to something. She already looks like she is living here.'

She strides and sits on the chair right across him. It isn't his desk, but a two piece couch set, placed so that he can interact with his visitors while they made themselves comfortable. All the while, her eyes examine the entire room, trying to make sense of the all the objects placed there, trying to figure him out. Her left hand clasped shut, like she is holding on to something while there is a strip placed on her right from where the glucose is injected into her body.

"I will need a name miss if I have to figure who you are and get your report before we begin the session."

"I am not here for a session sir. I am not on any list and you probably don't have my report. I was told you might be free around this time."

'Sir. She is not a rebel. She realizes I can help her. She needs me to do something.'

"Well, if that is the case then how can I be of service?"

"I had inquired around about a certain person and found out he was a regular patient here. You were his doctor. I was told that I can ask you about patient number 347456."

The doctors eyes moved about trying to find a point to focus on, while he shifted in his seat. It was the absence of everything that made him uncomfortable now. The stillness was eerie. It was gnawing on his perceptions. The room felt like it was deflating; it was running out of air to breathe.

"Why do you want to know about him?"

"I had a liver transplant a week ago."

It made sense. But experience hadn't taught him to stop a train of thought from charging through his head, all the while peircing his perception with doubt and woe, cloaking his senses wilth numbness. So, he watched as it broke through his educated mind, crushing reason with chemicals that often birth what we call feelings. His experience had taught him not to try to tame the rioutous beast but to let it tire itself. And in a moment, the beast was down.

"Sir?"

She had a beautiful voice. It was alive and soothing. Her voice could replace the the singing of the birds and the world would light up.

He crossed his legs, clasped his hands together and placed them between them. He was taking charge, of his own thoughts. 

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me about him to help him paint him in my head."

". . . . . He was like most on the surface. You couldn't tell if he is different or call him special from a look. He was not handsome by any accounts, nor was he a genius. He didn't  have that charisma that you find in some people, nor was he completely shy. But then again, you can't call anyone special from a look. He wasn't invisible either. He could light up the room. He could find hope even when there was nothing but darkness. He seemed happy all the time, mostly smiling and no matter what the topic was, he would find a stupid joke to relate to it."

The doctor lost charge. He let a smile slip. But his mind quickly erased it from his face.

"Most of them were not funny either. Conversations with him however, were anything but dull. Like most, he had faced his Winters and droughts. Like most, he had his demons. I couldn't call him smart or intellectual but he was even minded. He wasn't brilliant but he was educated, and stubborn. Never the one who would accept a helping hand but always ready to lend one."

"And yet he came to you."

The doctor took a deep breath. The stale air filled his lungs.

"He was educated. He knew when to ask for help if things got worse. Things were worse. The first day he said, " I have lost  hope doctor. I need that back. Can you help me?""

The chemicals were rioting. The almost took over as the doctor grinned. But the well formed mind won again and suppressed the rebellion. The doctor realized he might not be able to do it again.

"He was diagnosed with grade four astrocytoma. Aggressive brain cancer."

The walls didn't move. The roof didn't cave in. The ground didn't give out. The world outside still moved. But everything felt hollow. Everything was doused in a hint of grey. But as the world lost saturation her eyes stayed blue. They stayed transfixed.

"Was he scared?"

"Not until the last few days he wasn't. He always found a reason to cheer up."

"Then why did he come to you?"

"He had his regrets that he carried around on his shoulders wherever he went. He always had a good enough physique, not to heavy, not to light. But he weighed a ton or more. I think what he needed was someone to hear him."

"What happened?"

"He was sixteen. Rowdy and easily influenced. He got in with the big bad boys, had a taste of liquor and smoke and he painted a heaven with those flavours. But they cost money, and when his finances ran dry, he took to stealing. It wasn't a colossal amount, just enough to get by another day. It was the person he stole it from. His grandma practically raised him for 13 years while both his parents were out working and when they found out that he stole and told her, she refused to believe it, saying she had misplaced the money. Needless to say, she forgave him almost instantly, even though he never apologised. His parents were not so happy about it. He had a falling out and he ran away. His grandmother tried to come after him. She had raised him from an infant to a teenage boy. She loved him. She understood him. He never got along with people. He didn't have real friends. He became whatever anyone wanted him to be. He figured early on that to avoid bie g alone, you need to have friends. And to do that, you need to fit in. So he did, like a master key. She knew that he did it to fit in. She knew how lonely he was. She tried talking always but no teenager talks to his grandmother. Everyone needs friends. No matter what she did, she couldn't help him from feeling left out and alone. He became miserable. A miserable man will use despicable means. He was trying to fit in."

"He never forgave himself for stealing the money, did he?"

"He did. He never forgave himself for not apologizing."

The doctor could sense it. The flow of a new battle forming up in his head. So he prepares himself for another bout.

"His grandma understood. She ran after him, slipped on the stairs and sprained her ankle. However, the fear of falling threw her into a cardiac arrest. She survived but developed retrograde amnesia. She knew him after that, but lost most her memories of the past. She forgot that he stole from her. So he couldn't apologize."

A moment of silence passes. The sea in her eyes trying to contain the storm while the doctor prepared for a rematch.

"He never did smoke or drink after that. But he never did stop trying to fit in. So, as he grew older, he did what the cool kids did. Listened to the popular songs, watched the trending shows. Soon he found love. An angel in the form of  a beautiful girl.  She made him feel better. She listened when he spoke, held him when he felt alone. And even though she was swimming in her own flood of troubles, together, they could face the world. For the first time in his life, he felt complete. He loved her beyond anything. She was the only one who knew him for what he was. But to the rest of the world, he was still what they wanted him to be. They talked about a life together, they dreamed of thier future. Niether of them could envision a future without the other. Then he changed to suit miliue around him, a game of Truth or Dare turned to a kissing session and before he was caught, he had cheated three times."

"So he wasn't a saint. He kept making mistakes."

"No, he just made one. Trying to fit in by bieng whatever he was supposed to be. He made the mistake of not bieng himself. He never loved again. He had never left a girl more broken and haunted him. It held his feet and sunk him to the depths of sorrow at times. He was alone again. But who can you blame? He paid a price, an abhorrent punishment, losing the one you love." 

The eyes broke the storm, waves crashed on her lids, and a tear broke free, followed by another. 

"He wasn't a bad person. I can assure you that. He tried his best to make poeple laugh. Always looked at the bright side of things. Even after knowing about his condition, he kept going like it was nothing but a flu. He smiled and laughed and made stupid comments. He found hope in every corner of this edifice. He did his best to be better."

It had been a quiet day; a dead one. The absence had a presence. The air was rancid. The sunshine was embedded with gloom. The landscape was void of life while the world dried out of color. Her eyes let the ocean out as her hand slipped a small note. She picked it up and stood up.

"Thank you doctor."

"May I know ow why you why you came to me?"

"The doctors told me that the donor for the liver had left a note for whoever received it. I didn't make sense. Now it does."

"If I may, What does it say?"

"Live better than I did."