Chapter 19. A Forgotten Prose
On Saturday evening, the dark sky was above the hospital building.
Petunia sat alone on the bench with eyes flickered against the deathly luminescent light at the ceiling. She waited alone in a different side of area—the backyard. All that she saw was green grasses, one obsolete red old car, and wire fence.
The environment stayed desolate, until she stared back shyly to find Cathy walked through the open corridor of the the terrace. She dressed in a brown coat and thick boots.
“Oh, Petunia, you’re still here?”
She only nodded.
“I just look out for an available bathroom, I guess they have quite a few.”
Cathy kept on smiling while Petunia didn’t enjoy her little humor with that pale cheeks showed no felicity.
Just a while, Cathy noticed a piece of paper in her hand. There was something she wanted to know and understand about this quiet girl, although Petunia didn’t seem to welcome her approach. It turned awkward for a moment.
“What is that?”
Petunia clenched the paper. “A poem.”
“You wrote a poem?”
She rose from the bench to lean on the wall. Cathy followed her to stand oppositely.
“No, my mom wrote this before her stroke got worse.”
“May I see it?”
Petunia walked forward to show her the poem. In a glimpse of this dark evening, she started observing the beautiful italicized handwriting on that flimsy paper, written with black ink.
The lies beneath a mountain,
sought high as the perceivable butterfly,
as she’s go up, up, like fireflies.
—a forgotten prose
“Why it called a prose, you said it’s a poem?”
Petunia stared at her for a second. “A prose is originally a Latin word, means straightforward,” she took back the paper quickly. “My mom wrote it without gave it a second thought, and then I read it like a poem.”
“What does the poem mean?”
“It’s to let me know how dying is supposed to feel like.”
“The lies—what is it?” Cathy wondered.
She seemed to contemplate it. “Something that my mom felt as the lies that is hiding in a gigantic form, everything can spark free to fly, and let loose,” Petunia felt the grief. “She wants to loose from her sickness.”
“It’s an analogy that she made,” an impeccable idea was being treasured on her mind that it felt strange. “It’s beautiful. She must be a good writer.”
“My mom was a lawyer—actually,” Petunia corrected. “She stopped being a lawyer when I was ten—the first time she got a stroke,” her eyes turned glossy, “and as the first painful period of my life to feel a nightmare of the asylum.”
“Why it happened concurrently with your mom disease?”
Petunia sighed. “I don’t think the doctors were right that I was haunted by a hallucination,” she protested. “They’re real, even now. The monsters.”
“Some kind like demon?” Cathy guessed. “The thing is—you can never tell that to just anyone.”
“Cathy, I see how absurd the world is,” she walked a little closer to face her. “Can you see a scary stuff like I do?”
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “That’s not a challenge you’ve referred,” Cathy reassured. “Some stuff just need to stay in the place, when some don’t, there must be something to be fixed.”
“Are you saying that I’m a broken doll, because I went to the asylum?”
Cathy gazed solemnly at her, reading her tension. “No. I said something need to be fixed.”
Petunia chuckled. “You’re just like them to think how freak I am.”
“You keep thinking negative,” she grimaced. “That’s why you need to meet Syl—”
A distinct voice surprised them afterward, “Who need a comrade for a piggybank explanation?”
They turned their eyes at the terrace to see a beautiful white hair girl had stood awaited before she approached them to speak aboveboard.
“Sylvia Elle!” Cathy excited to see her again. “Pretty palpably.”
Elle wore the same long coat like yesterday when she accompanied Cathy in the hospital, although no one would question her everyday clothes that looked rarely changeable.
They all stood in the edge of the terrace’s backyard. Petunia seemed to step back slowly from this encounter. Cathy noticed that girl was feeling a bad tension, and looked frightened.
“Don’t go,” Cathy said.
Petunia stared loathingly at her. “Why can’t I?”
“Was this the little girl that peeking in your window?” Elle knew it for sure. “Nice to meet you there.”
They stood two meters away from each other. Petunia truly had a defensive space within herself.
“She’s my good friend, she knows how to help you about the nightmare,” Cathy explained.
“No, you both don’t.”
“Until you can suppress a despondent heart, it might be easier to help yourself not to fall into straw,” Elle said wisely.
Petunia glanced at that white hair angel with a perplexing mind. Her honey brown eyes got frightened to stare back at those keen eyes.
“Y-you,” she spoke nervously. “Are you even human?!”
Elle kept gazing at her pale face. “Hold what you believe in.”
The tranquility atmosphere was still in the air, but Petunia felt her forehead began sweating.
“She said monsters are everywhere in her vision,” Cathy told empathically. “Elle, you know how to tell people about the knowledge.”
That angel walked closer to observe her face. “Is it?”
Petunia stood trembling.
“Dear, your obsessive compulsive against supernatural is a wrongdoing of your own thought. It seems you are the one who attracting that kind of energy to be your sleepwalker.”
“The demons are really disturbing her?” Cathy confused.
“Yes and no,” she answered.
“Come on, Elle, how come?” Cathy was the one who got worried. “You need to help her.”
“Only if she agrees to help herself, it doesn’t seem that way, huh?” Elle was crossing arms while talking.
Cathy stared back at Petunia who won’t speak up. “Don’t you feel tired about it?” She almost snarled. “Don’t tell me you want to come back to that asylum—”
“Of course no!” Petunia finally snarled. “But, she won’t hurt me, right?”
“I won’t eat a flesh of a little girl—is that what you want me to say?” Elle annoyed.
“Sorry,” Petunia murmured.
The angel knew when the human would be ready. This was their momentum of silence. The luminescent lamp radiated brightly during their encounter, and the winds rustled mildly at the backyard.
Elle began to step forward, reaching for her cold hand. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, while seemingly doing nothing but holding hands, but her breath had dragged away the paranoia on Petunia’s mind.
Slowly she sighed. “Done.”
“What is done?” Cathy baffled.
Petunia felt a bit dizzy as they released each other’s hands. “Like there’s something come out from my chest, it feels relieve.”
“Consider this on your mind: don’t intrude a monster that’s asleep,” Elle said to make both of them perplexing. “This isn’t purely behold on your thought. A spell, I say.”
“Someone put a spell on her?” Cathy astonished.
“A spell to make this girl always attracting a bad thing, someone put a magnet into your membrane.”
“There’s must be a history how you got it,” Cathy impulsively worried.
“I don’t know, it’s confusing,” Petunia muttered.
“The same thing has happening with your mother, but as a great spell,” Elle seemed to read something incredibly hazardous in the past.
“It’s a disease—how can you tell?” Petunia couldn’t know the reason. “We’re rarely making a social contact with anybody.”
“Probably no, but when your mother was still a lawyer,” Cathy reminded her.
Elle immediately shot her keen eyes at Petunia. “You better take care of yourself, sleep tight tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll be in an airplane at nine tonight,” Petunia informed. “It’s time for us to go home,” she peeped at her watch. “I need to go now, sorry.”
“Have great days in New York,” Cathy waved goodbye as seeing her walked away.
During the whole short time that they had together, Cathy would miss her after this conversation. The atmosphere they shared was more than just acquaintance.
At the last moment, Petunia waved back at both of them, and then she headed back to the hospital’s corridor.
It was a mere breakdown of her inability to stand still in front of the door, until one nurse greeted her.
“Aren’t you going to the room?”
Cathy was restless for the last an hour and got lost on her own mind.
“Will you?” The nurse asked twice.
She smiled back at the nurse who carried a bunch of files. “Excuse me, does Mr. Breckenwood allow my mom to return yet?”
“Oh, he did tell me. It’s today,” the nurse touched her shoulder, sympathetically. “That’s why I’m here to help Mrs. Charlotte to pack her belonging.”
She smiled widely. “God, thank you.”
The nurse leaded her to open the door, at the same time, they saw that Haile tried to raise up from the bed. The environment was better, only a small amount of medicine aroma still surrounded in the air.
“Mom, you look healthier!” Cathy hugged her immediately, and realized that her mom already changed into a shirt and jeans.
“I’d be glad to help in here,” the nurse shouted while packing her clothes into a bag, which hung inside a small cabinet.
Haile sparked a smile to welcome them. “It’s been so long I have no fresh air, how’s town these days?”
Cathy sighed. “Not perfect without you.”
Her mom shot glossy eyes at her. “Oh, c’mon, I know how bad you miss me,” she could feel her mom was touching her eyelid softly. “Can you take my black coat in the bathroom?”
“Sure,” Cathy walked quickly to the west side of the room.
When she returned, the nurse seemed to work as fast as the wind that the bag was already placed above the sofa. “Mrs. Charlotte, your check out confirmation has done by your husband, you may return safely now.”
“Thank you, Nurse,” Haile smiled back.
After that slender nurse left them in the room, Cathy gave the coat to her. The air went silent as she wore her black coat.
“Did you befriend with Petunia?”
Cathy was reticent. “Maybe.”
She popeyed her oddly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Petunia seems to choose herself as unspoken person,” Cathy sighed. “At least, Elle knows how to break that matter.”
“She seems like a real quiet girl,” Haile nodded while talking, “I’ve heard she’s from New York, and this isn’t her weekend for a trip.”
“Absolutely, she just have her nonrefundable airplane tickets for tonight, she’ll be going back with her mom.”
“Clay Breckenwood has tough times for his family, for a precise affliction, even though they are divorced.”
Haile hugged her so tightly. They had a great time to feel no abundance of worriment for a while.
“His family’s condition has reminded me of how important you are Cathy.”
Cathy was speechless, her heart melt with words that so vulnerable to be spoken out. The air conditioner actuated the background noise in their atmosphere.
“I’m afraid to lose you,” her mom murmured. “Especially to let you know how disarray the family who raised me.”
Cathy narrowed her eyes, thinking that she had misheard her mom. “The Aloise is that bad to you?” She gulped anxiously. “Is that why you left them, and you stay here?”
“How far did Carl Dalton tell you?” Her mom sounded sarcastic.
“How do you think it is?” Her anger emerged like a gas pump, and she slowly grabbed off her mom’s arms in no second.
“He didn’t tell you about the chapel?”
She felt slightly familiar with the term. “The Morizza Chapel?”
Haile observed her face, and waited for an answer.
“The rest of the descendants were raised in that chapel, and got separated as they aged. The chiromancer only mentioned it once—”
“It wasn’t from Dalton that you knew?” Haile sounded mad. “The portal has brought you to know a secret, but you need to concern to be much careful of who do you speak with—”
“Mom, it was with a celestial that I talked to, and Elle was there with me,” she tried to calm her in return.
“It should be Carl Dalton at the first place—”
“Because he doesn’t really know about the family—that’s why you chose him to be my informant, so I couldn’t gain too much secrecy,” Cathy shackled. “Will you bring the secret into your grave?”
Cathy’s eyes couldn’t hide her own sadness. They stared silently.
At that second, Manson came into the room when they were still gazing in tension. He noticed that the atmosphere felt uneasy. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, let’s just move from here,” Haile said as she walked to take her bag.
Cathy was left with a maze thought about the way her mom would consider to keep another secret again. Her dad was skeptic to see her stood numbly.
“Are you two just had a fight?”
“No, just a misconception,” she won’t look at his eyes.
“Well, please be good, your mom hasn’t fully recovered yet,” he was worried.
“I’m sorry dad, I need a little time to recharge my mind for now,” Cathy walked away from the room immediately without giving him a chance to ask in return.
The clock ticked at eight p.m. when they returned home safely. Her parents already locked their bedroom, sleeping for sure. Cathy was the only who still awoke, she wandered into the kitchen to take a cold water. She walked upstairs again, and still couldn’t have a good sleep, that was why she would wander in the corridor.
Two minutes she stood alone, which lasted as a practical illusion on her peripheral eyes. Cathy hesitated to knock the next door. She waited for nothing. The second floor was pretty quiet. It was a bit stupid that she wanted to acknowledge whether Sylvia Elle would stay in the next room. Therefore, she returned to her bedroom again, lying down on her bed.
In the middle of the night, she woke up uncomfortably. A cricket hummed a song within the rustling winds. She might have misheard of something, but a whisperer voice kept on telling her to go to sleep.
She opened the curtain and stared up.
Far beyond the window, she saw the night sky among the stars, like a blue night that commingled with green aurora borealis. Her head might be playing a trick, even though something felt unsure when a few stars fell down from the sky, those stars swooshed away in a blink of an eye. Bisbee won’t be raining by a strange aurora—that was the idea. Especially for a bunch of comets, those sparkling stars rained down constantly now.
Cathy was dumbfounded by the night view. Her hesitation became definite for this epic scenery. She won’t blink until she murmured, “Fallen stars.”