Fumarole

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 28, 2016

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Submitted: January 28, 2016

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“So what’s on your mind today?”

I peered out the window. I always thought back to the aftermath of storms and rainbow formations. How they signified greater storms to come and all. It felt like that kind of morning. That, and, I saw the forecast earlier today. I’d wanted anything but to be where I was now. But something in me kept me glued to my seat. Some irresistible urge.

“I want out today.”

“What do you mean?” the man spoke.

I looked over to the man, white coat, crossed legged, one hand on the notepad, another on his chin. The whole nine, spitting image of yet another hostile.

“I’ve been thinking about the whole incident recently,” I began. “And I’m starting to find it harder and harder to shut myself out. The thoughts. The constant bombardment. I can’t think of anything besides just… shutting down.“

I could feel the bags on my eyes. I stopped counting the days when I realized they’d be there for good.

“I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of how this is all weighing on me.”

“Alright, well how about you elaborate on that? Tell me about feeling tired. Tell me about the weight. Where does it all reside?”

Where does it all reside? I thought to myself. The man kept a stern composure, like he’d been analyzing me since I entered the room. His words spoke of concern but his face bore a less than empathetic semblance. Court mandated therapy. The phrase kept ringing in my head, incessantly. Like a gong being hit every so often. It wouldn’t shut up. It wouldn’t quiet down. It never has.

“I can’t seem to shut out the voices anymore. I can’t stop hearing them screaming. Wailing. Cursing me in languages I can’t even begin to describe. They don’t know when to quiet down. They don’t know when to stop. And when I think about it long enough, hard enough, I think I can hear myself saying all the things I’ve been afraid to hear.”

The man’s expression shifted, like he was waiting for me to continue. Irking me to pour out my thoughts.

“And I think I know what they, the voices, my voices, want.”

“What do they want?”

“They want me to disappear. They want me to disappear just as much as I’d like to.”

He continued to jot down little notes as he scrunched his chin, possibly, or probably, searching for some sort of retort.

“Well I can see it as this. And I think you might want to consider what I say. I believe the way your thoughts, feelings, and the voices, are being processed is your body’s way of conclusively coming to terms with the dilemma you’ve experienced. You can’t continue to fight it; you need to fall back onto it. You need to, if I might put it delicately, steer into the skid. Let it ride you until it’s reached an acceptable degree.”

I looked out the window. Part of me wanted to jump for it and escape. I want to feel the greenery on my feet again. The cool air. The distinct smell of freedom. What I’d do to be on the other side of the pane. Embracing the breeze that rattled the foliage not twenty feet from me. And as the storm would overshadow the city, clutching me, the rain would wash my misdeeds away. What felt like a window away. A window of opportunity.

“The implications that you’ve set upon yourself are all understandable. And your rationale is understandable as well. But there’s no justification towards the actions that you took, and you need to understand that yourself. You need to see that for yourself. It’s all truly about coming to terms with it. Accepting it for what it is and nothing else. I can’t vouch for its result, I don’t think, as I’m sure you don’t, this would serve to bring you solitude. But from my perspective, it seems the only way forward.”

“Doctor, I know exactly what I did. I don’t see them any less clear than the day that it happened. You don’t think what I did doesn’t play on a reel every waking moment of my thrown away life? And I swear if I could, I would write you a memoir of exactly when it all started to change, when everything went to shit, and when they started to edge me out. They wanted me to disappear! Was I supposed to sit there and take it? So… I needed… I needed to move. To do something. Anything so that I wouldn’t lose them!”

He nodded in confirmation. And only in confirmation.

“I know it’s all fallen out of favor with me, I know everyone safely assumes the position of being against me. I can’t feel more than ready to leave than I do right now. I can’t handle living with the man who tore me away from who I could have been. Who I could have become.”

I looked at the doctor one last time. It would be the last time. Something in me urged to appreciate the details of his face. His existence. His resonance. His aroma. Just a simple man in the midst of yet another passing life. It could have been everything. And he could very well be the last face I was going to study.

“I’ve shared enough,” I said quietly as I began relieving myself from sitting. “I’m done.”

The man stood up as I was escorted out. A poignant expression seemed to wash over his face.

“Doctor.” I spoke.

He looked up to me, with acknowledgment I knew I didn’t deserve.

“I’ll see you on the other side.”
_______________________

“Patient?”

“No, actually. Death row inmate. Apparently he called for the session.”

“What’s he in for?”

“It’s a whole story, wouldn’t want to bore you with the details. Convicted of murdering his family some seven years ago. Wife and two kids. Damn shame. Intelligent man, you know? College graduate. Head of a firm. It never really added up to me.”

“Painful to hear. But insane as insane gets. He plead not guilty?”

“Initially, but he was guilty on all charges by the end of it anyway.”

“Why’d he call for the session though? What’d he want to talk about?”

“That’s the things. You’d think a man of his stature would have some final words to say. But he never spoke a word. He just kept staring out the window. Mumbling under his breath.”

“Well I’ll be damned if that didn’t make you wary.”

“Hah, I’ve seen worse. I’ve seen nut cases who wouldn’t shut up. Convicts who promised they’d find me and take me out.”

“Sounds like a Monday to me.”

“A day amongst many others. But with this man. I just don’t know, he had an air to him. But I think, I mean it’s just assumptions at this point, I think I might know why he called for the session.”

“Yea?”

“Yea. Call me crazy but I think all he really wanted was to take one last look of the outside. One last look at a world he won’t set eyes on ever again.”

“Can’t blame him there. Weathers great today. Storms going to wash the city clean I hear.”

“But he did leave me something. I’m not too sure where he got the chance to write this.”

“A note?”

“Yea, a note.”

“Well, what does it say?”

“It’s pretty vague, but I think he wanted something to serve as a hook to this reality. It says,

I’ll see you on the other side.


© Copyright 2018 Ali Terkawi . All rights reserved.

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