Water Under the Bridge
Those days were dramatic in the extreme, as if living in a trembling, awesome dream. Like water, ever-flowing and never constant, the days changed in a dizzying whirl.
He was the capricious river that flowed beneath the bridge. I was the one who watched its course from above.
“It seems… a miracle has happened…”
It was their first reunion in two years. And the hundred-and-somethingth time they had met.
Despite the rather long interval, she was sure she had seen him more times than she cared to count. And yet.
His dull, pale blue eyes were fixed vaguely on the ceiling. He showed no sign of noticing her presence in the chair beside his bed.
For a while, she waited with bated breath. When will he notice me? she wondered. But no matter how long she waited, his eyes, staring at the stark white ceiling of the hospital room, did not move.
Her patience wearing thin, she rose from the chair and stepped into his field of vision. With a feigned, knowing smile, she brought her face close to his.
“Ah… so you’re awake.”
He made no effort to hide his displeasure at her intense, top-down gaze. As he scowled, she spoke to him softly.
“Tell me, what’s it like? The feeling of comin’ back from death’s door, wakin’ up for the first time in two weeks.”
She let out a small chuckle. He furrowed his brow and said:
“What’s this all about, then?”
He pushed himself up in the bed and began to look around the room, his movements agitated. After a full scan of his surroundings, his sightless eyes fell upon the intravenous drip connected to his left wrist and the pulse oximeter on his fingertip. Then, his gaze shifted to the digital clock projected in pale blue light upon the white wall, and a look of bewilderment crossed his face.
“Today is July twenty-eighth, 4220.”
At her words, his eyes widened. He seemed utterly unable to grasp his situation. And so, she decided to explain it to him.
“According to Thirouswadd, you suddenly collapsed and lost consciousness. He called an ambulance in a panic, and you were brought here, to this hospital. This makes it the second time you’ve been admitted, you know.”
“…”
“The emergency physician said you had a sudden cerebral haemorrhage. But they couldn’t pinpoint the cause. Still… to think you not only survived what should have been a fatal—or rather, a near-fatal—episode, but are now recovering as if it were all a lie… Just what on earth is your body made of?”
Her explanation only served to deepen his confusion. Confusion about his circumstances, and about the very existence of the ‘she’ who stood before him.
He tilted his head just so. And then he asked her a most unexpected question.
“Right, then… who the hell are you?”
He looked at her as one might look at a dangerously over-familiar stranger.
“Ah… yes. I suppose I haven’t introduced myself, have I…”
Somehow, she had had a feeling it would come to this.
She told herself this as she forced a smile. And she was reminded of the first time they had met.
That day, nearly two years ago. The dazed young man in the hospital room her father had taken her to. A scarred young man who knew neither who he was nor the situation he was in, showing only hostility to the doctors who came and went…
“I’m Bridget. Bridget Elora. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pellmond.”
She held out her hand for him to shake, but he did not take it. His dull, pale blue eyes were filled with suspicion. She awkwardly withdrew her hand, but the smile never left her face.
“I actually go to the same university as you. The medical school, in my case. I’m a friend of your friend, Thirouswadd, and I’m also the daughter of Dr. Richard Elora, the neurologist who works in the psychiatric department here. You probably remember him, don’t you? I imagine my father grilled you with questions back then… I’m terribly sorry about that.”
It was their first reunion in two years. And the hundred-and-somethingth time they had met. But he had forgotten she existed.
