Amentia

Chapter 5 - Stability and calmness

Kyoto, Japan.

Meiko turned the alarm off with one eye half-open and then turned around to continue sleeping. She knew this wouldn't make her late because she had set an early alarm last night after returning home late from dinner with coworkers from the hospital. She had set it a whole hour early so she could take her time getting out of bed. Those social occasions were always exhausting for her because they were never outings she willingly chose to attend but rather felt forced to. And those evenings were especially bad when they included men getting drunk and brazenly making passes at her; men that she was not in a position to reject rudely because it could cost her her beloved job. Over the years, she had learned to adjust her body language and turn them down in a way that wouldn't damage their ego, but unfortunately that meant they wouldn't consider themselves fully rejected and instead would feel entitled to try again whenever the next occasion presented itself. Thankfully, she still hadn't found herself in any kind of dangerous situation, but she was afraid it would only be a matter of time. Sometimes she rejected them so subtly that they even thought she was just playing hard to get and would text her the next morning to see if she wanted to go out with them alone. This was such morning.

Meiko sat up on the bed to check her schedule for the day and found a text that read, "Hi! Sorry for the early message, but I woke up thinking about you and how much fun we had last night, you were so cute. After your shift is over today, would you like to meet me for dinner?" followed by a string of shy and blushed emojis. Meiko sighed and lowered her head to rub her eyes. At least this man wasn't a supervisor or boss of any kind; he worked in the radiology department, which was almost as low in the hospital hierarchy as the physical therapy one, so she could reject him without much repercussion. Still, it would probably make things slightly uncomfortable, because her patients often needed to get X-rays to check the progress of their recovery, but she could only hope he would get over it soon enough and wouldn't give her any problems.

After replying to the text as politely as possible and without leaving any room for doubt this time, Meiko got out of bed. Since she'd got up so much earlier than usual, she had more time to do her tai chi routine and really let her body recover from the stress of the night before. She could take her time to clear her mind of all earthly distractions and pay close attention to the flow of energy in her veins. She had six patients to attend to today and she wanted to be able to discharge at least one of them, so she would need to be in her best shape. Those unexpected social gatherings always disrupted everything, and she had to readjust and find her footing again where she was comfortable. Otherwise, it heavily affected her work, since she relied exclusively on her own peace of mind and proper flow of energy to heal people. She had found that a routine where everything was expected and planned was the only way to maintain stability and calmness, which were the only things Meiko aspired to have in life. She didn't really deserve much more than that anyway.

So she began her tai chi exercises —the ones she could perform in the small space of her apartment at least— and forced her mind to stop thinking conscious thoughts, focusing only on the movement of her muscles and on the air entering and leaving her lungs. She found it easy to arrive to that tranquility of mind, an unusual thing to happen after an uncomfortable night out. Her energy moved effortlessly like a summer breeze, and her body felt strong and solid. The stronger connection she felt with herself made the practice particularly satisfying, almost like an out-of-body experience, like her body moved on its own while her mind was deep within itself, aware of its surroundings and aware of itself.

She was focusing on her footwork when a bright white light surprised her so much she almost stumbled and fell, throwing off her concentration. The light was on her front door, almost like tearing it open, and Meiko half expected to see the hall outside through it, as if her door had suddenly cracked in half on its own. But it was just bottomless light, shaped like a stretched diamond, flickering like a soft flame. And she had the impression it was whispering something, even though she couldn't hear any words. Meiko stood there, frozen in an almost stumble, watching the light and feeling it pull at her. She knew she had to go in, something inside her knew, but her brain was reluctant. She hadn't finished her practice, and she had patients waiting for her. She felt her pulse quicken, and the familiar and incredibly painful tug at her stomach that came when the unexpected happened. She tried to convince herself that she was hallucinating and there was no light —it certainly didn't make sense—, but she also couldn't shake the feeling that the light was the only right place to go. She felt it in her veins, a soft warmth in her blood, the same kind she felt when she was healing people. There was no way to ignore this and move on with her day; it would haunt her. And she wasn't even sure she would be able to open the real wooden door with that light in the way.

The pull of it was so strong it was almost hypnotizing, and Meiko felt herself fall into a sort of trance where there was no doubt or fear. She felt it in her soul: she had to go in. Taking a few steps towards the door, she put on a pair of shoes without looking down to see which one, unable to move her eyes away from the light. She thought of her patients again, but she was in such a daze that the thought left as quickly as it came. There was nothing else to do but to take that final step forward and disappear inside the light.