'Cause I Like Him Too Much

Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Tomorrow...it is tomorrow…” I kept thinking of the word ‘tomorrow’ as I allowed the pen in my hand to stroke freely against the clean, white page, writing down what I had in mind. “When I get to wake up tomorrow morning, will I still be the same? I think I will be, it’s just that I’m going to be a lil’ bit old and...Should I get excited, I think I am the only one who remembers it...Nobody remembers…”

  A tear fell on the top part of the paper, some of the ink-inscribed words there became wet and indistinct. Another one followed. I had stopped but only stared at what I just wrote, reading it, while another drop of tear fell and joined the first ones. This has always been a problem every time I try to confide something by writing. I could not help but to pour it all down, and like this, I cry and cry and let that certain sentiment capture me until I begin wanting to put down what I started, and until I gain some relief by crying instead.

  I wiped my tears and hid my notebook away. I crawled in bed, holding tight on a pillow, I lay my back down and sighed. Enough of this, enough of expecting for something to happen. I didn’t want to cry longer and have swollen eyes for tomorrow. The least I could do for myself is to stay calm and sane and try to be happy-- even when the worries and the endless apprehension kept on hiding right in that corner, waiting for me to fall to their deadly baits. Yes, I should be happy and hope as long as I can, that is what the living voice inside keeps telling me.

“Sleep well, Hannah. May you seize your day well tomorrow.”, I told myself while I fixed my weary eyes on the dim ceiling, closing them slowly, I started to think of all the consequent happenings I had encountered not long.

  Such uncertain things, like since when did sickness do a person any good? I know I was a scrawny and an unhealthy child back then, but now I got this unknown sickness which kept me weak every moment. The same stuffs relentlessly coming back to me—head and body pains, I was really clueless, wondering why I ever had them. What I couldn’t handle most was the strange roiling sensation inside my stomach, I got to say it never failed to drive me mad, and that sensation was the culprit. It was the cause of my regular vomiting, but the cause of all those indications? What made me feel very, very ill? I still didn’t know that time.

  All of a sudden, I gasped, opening my eyes as some powerful force telling me to. I heard the old grandfather clock in the living room, its striking sound echoed around. It was the twelfth of midnight.  Rising up was against my will, I wanted to sleep so much, but my body wouldn’t allow me to. It wanted to get out of the room, it wanted something and there was nothing my tired mentality could do to make it stop from wanting, for it could not hesitate more yet only yielded to what my senses craved.

  As my feet led me to the kitchen, I began to dream of the big and red apples that we used to grow in our orchard every summer, so nice and sweet, they would quench your thirst once you get to sink your teeth in one of them. Also, let us not forget the thick clusters of grapes clinging on their vines, waiting to be picked up and eaten. The melons! Juicy and sugary too, I would want one right now so bad and finish all of it in just one sitting. Yearning for some of those, left my mouth watering, literally. Feeling the need to eat something sweet, the need of savoring every bit, I opened the pantry and looked for the goodies in there, just to have myself fully satisfied.

What I only found inside were the sickening jar of olives, a box of bran flakes, bread and cheese.

  “No!”, I cried and covered my nose and mouth with my palm. I don’t fancy them! The day and night occurrence came back as I expected it to, I winced and put my head in the kitchen sink. It was obvious much that I could not stand the sight of them, or their smell, and everything that was inside my calm abdomen erupted, the contents all leaped to my throat and raced out to my wide-opened mouth. After a minute of abrupt heaving, I turned the faucet on to wash the mess that came out of me. I also took a glass and filled it with tap water. I groped inside my blouse pocket and took out two white tablets. They tended to make me feel better after a surge of pain and all, they also helped me have a good sleep. I took them in my mouth and drank water. They tasted bitter, but who would wish not to get well soon? I wanted to be normal, and feel normal just like before. Even if it meant that I had to take the same medicine every now and then. While I was finishing my water, my attention was caught by the small jam jar of glowing red of preserved strawberries in the counter all alone.