Strangers

I squeezed her hand gently. It was warm. It was tender. Yet, it was lifeless! She seemed to be lost in the state of serenity and transquility, lost in the world not quite like the one I was in—the world she would refer to as the “ghost garden” full with blossoming scarlet red roses and tall shady green trees, but deserted and abandoned! I remembered how it tore me apart, cuddling her in the middle of the night with reassuring words, each time after—as if awakened by some evil invisible force—she screeched at the very top of her voice, “Help me! Help me! Get me out of the stupid garden! I am scared!” Despite the fact that she was lying asleep in the sickeningly white patient’s uniform tucked under the awfully white sheet in the hospital bed which was nothing but white, she was still a beauty, a sleeping beauty! Her long back silky hair still dazzled when caught in the reflection of the florescent light that was illuminating the ward. Her pointed nose, on the bridge of which would normally rest the black-framed specs, just went so well with the soft rosy lips, still rosy against the odds of the Alzeihmer that had sucked not only the energy out of her, but also her livelihood!

*****

It was all started with a simple click, the click on the word “Accept” on Facebook, the click that gave birth to the bond between us, and the click that taught me a life lesson of true passionate love! Admittedly, I was a Facebook enthusiast! Never did I nod my head in genuine agreement when some nerdy-looking classmates of mine came forward and started babbling about how much time could be saved up for the late-night self-study on the chapter on fishing in GS or for the lengthy WS entry about abortion to be handed in the next day, all in the absence of what they termed as “the inconsiderable obsession with Facebook”. In their creased white shirt and pants which could almost literally cover them from head to toe, they would corner me like a hungry cat eyeing a strayed pathetic mouse and snatch my black, nicely polished iphone before venturing into the usual typical lecture-like advice about how “life-destructive” Facebook could be to students like them and me. I would normally smile at them, trying as much as I could to translate the smile into a non-fake sign of appreciation—though with little success. To me, Facebook was an electronic home port, a place where geographical distance between my best friends in the States and me mattered little, and a place where I could get all the frustration and stress that weighed me down off my chest. And without Facebook, I would not have had a chance to step over the threshold into her world!

I was not sure whether it was by the sheer stroke of luck or it was the handwork of God; what I knew and was certain of was the feeling of floating in the air, the feeling of being on the verge of being unable to tell apart a reality and a dream, when her name and her picture of herself with her black-framed glasses resting slightly towards the edge of the nose bridge, holding an unopened yogurt box, popped up in my friend request list. Wanting to get to know her had always been a wish upon a falling star. I had caught fleeting glimpses of her usually in her white blouse and her pleated knee-length skirt on and off the campus, especially when it was around 3 30pm in front of Building C. There was something magnetic about her that drew me closer to her, something strangely familiar. However, I had always known I was just like a forgettable fan in a huge crowd who had done quite a thorough research about her, yet whose existence had been of little significance—if any—to her.

I found myself clicking “Like” on almost every single update about her ranging from the silly video clip of two blonde American toddlers trying to strangle each other to death, the kind of video I would normally have hated myself for even bothering to lay my eyes on, to her very daily status update about her showering! One week passed with my eyes being glued to the computer screen, my butts being stitched up with the cold iron chair, and my finger hitting the “refresh” button every five second to see if there were any updates from her, updates that would allow me some room—however small it might be—to not only “Like” but also “Comment” on her status.

It was the 10th of May. It was the day of dark clouds stretching all over the sky, lit up occasionally by the bright and sudden flashes of lightning. It was the day that most probably hated, but the day I dearly loved and would never let go of my mind! It was the day that I—for the first time—had an actual conversation with her!

The rain was pouring down. The wind was howling. The sky was pitch dark. This bloody umbrella wouldn’t save me from this savage rain! I grimaced at the thought, and still lingered on the corridor of Building C, occasionally giving hateful stares at the raging sky as if by doing so, the rain would relent. Just as I was about to venture into the unsheltered openness with my umbrella in my right hand, I heard a painful cry, and it was just within seconds before I could figure out who the girl who had just slid over the slippery wet earth was. It was her! I was already on my heels dashing towards her before my reasoning had any chance to obstruct me. Neither did I greet her nor look at her face and be lost in her beauty which stood against the test of such a natural and wet condition. My mind was too preoccupied with her own physical safety to make sense out of what I was being engaged in. I grabbed her cold trembling hand, made sure she clenched the umbrella I was offering her so that she was now sheltered from the rain, and slid her other free arm over my shoulder before rising to my feet, and therefore, lifting her up to her feet as well, though she was still shaky from the harsh coldness and the bleeding wound on her knees. She summoned her might and gave me a weak smile. I was lost in eyes! My heart skipped a beat. We were standing so close together under the umbrella. I was warm in the cold!

Sensing the awkward silence, she began talking, “Thanks, JaJo!”

I froze! She knew my name!

She continued, trying to explain herself, “I am sorry! I mean, this is the name you use in Facebook. I have no idea what your real name is.”

I chuckled and scratched my head in embarrassment. For ten good minutes or so, we were lost in one small, heart-warming world, shared by just the two of us, sheltered by one protective umbrella, without paying heeds to the surrounding. This marked an important milestone as the beginning of our relationship!

Two years into the relationship with her was heavenly … until one day!

It was a scorchingly hot day! Despite the fact that colours tended to fade from her face, leaving it a pale worried one, in her white robe embroidered with flowery designs, and with her long silky hair tied back into a ponytail, she was still a raw beauty as she was clutching my left hand so tightly, dreading the diagnosis result in the waiting room. I gave a slight squeeze onto her hand, and smiled reassuringly. She smiled back, understanding my intention. I was staring blankly at those haggard-looking faces of the patients whose names were called out, and who, sobbed their hearts out, after glancing through the result sheet for a few minutes. For the first time in my life, I felt scared! I really was! I just could not fathom how a young beautiful girl like her would have to be sitting next to me in this heart-wrenching room, witnessing the dramatic scene before me. I just could not fathom how people always worshipped God who kept throwing swords of the unexpected at them, tearing people apart.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts off, and tried not to let my fear engulf me, though with little success. In the past few months, she had been unusually forgetful! She suddenly could not recall the name of her puppy she so dearly loved. Neither could she remember where she studied as an undergraduate. I was most worried when I received a phone call from her one day, “Where are you? I … I … don’t know how to get back home. I … I … can’t remember where it is!” There was even one tragic time when she laughed so hard at my joke about the monkey and the banana, and after an awkward pause of mere searching for something in my face with a frown and tearful eyes, she broke into hysterical sobs. It was only when she pulled herself together again did she reveal the root cause, “I tried! But I couldn’t remember your name!” I remembered how my heart sank and my knees went weak upon hearing those words, yet I was always quick to pull everything back into the usual nothing-wrong-is-happening-and-you-are-just-tired routine by holding her rosy face with my hands, and saying, “You are just tired, dear!”

I was brought back into the coldness of the reality when my name was called out by the nurse! Be strong! No matter what, you needa be strong, man! I gave her hand a little squeeze one more time, and faked a smile, before slowly rising to my feet, and trudging towards where the nurse was waiting rather impatiently. I swiveled around and looked at her, but she was staring at her toes instead. My hands shook, and I hated how I could not be in full control of how my body should be functioning at the moment. With a few times of clumsy flipping, I managed to unfold the result slip. My heart was pounding. My eyes were quickly skipping words and numbers and words and numbers before laying fixed on the italicized words: RETOGRADE AMNESIA. I rushed towards where she was still sitting, and hugged her so tightly before she could utter a word!

*****

Her hand jerked, and my thoughts were interrupted. She was gazing into my eyes now, and she went deep beyond, attempting to search for something quite unknown to me. I looked back at her trying to read her expression, and before I could ask her anything, she slowly opened her mouth, and let three words out, the three words that killed me on the inside, “Who are you?”