This Is Not a Tragedy

17 | Similar Feelings

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

This morning, Sergius takes me to the gym's treadmill.

"I want to increase your speed to a run, and I don't trust you to freely go as fast as I'd like, so..."

The buttons of the treadmill beep as he presses them, and I am forced to walk, then walk faster, then jog, then... run? Soon, my heart thumps against my chest, and I slip into a panic. The sensation reminds me of the last time it pumped that hard—when I found my mother.

"I can't," I tell Sergius, stepping off and crouching down as I gasp for air. "It's too similar."

"Calm down," he tells me too calmly. "Breathe. You're hyperventilating."

I think I might be dying. Maybe it'd be okay to die. No, I don't want it to be this painful.

"In... Out... In... Out..."

After my heart rate and breathing have settled, Sergius hands me a much-needed bottle of water. My throat feels sharp and raw like I've inhaled icicles. I repeat the thought 'Stay out, stay out' in case he tries to eavesdrop... and to avoid any other thoughts.

After a long silence, his voice above my head says, "What do you think about seeing a psychologist?"

My eyes shoot up. What? No, no way.

"We have some at IVA, so confidentiality in that respect is—"

"No." Psychologists have never helped my mother. And I don't need one. "I'll be fine," I mutter, turning my eyes back towards the floor.

Sergius watches me quietly, and when I finally look up at him, he's expressionless. But the sharpness of his blinks and the way his lips are twitching, I can tell he's trying to hide whatever emotions he feels right now.

I'll survive. My mother suffered far more than I'm dealing with now. And Hitori was so strong, finding happiness and doing his best despite constantly being told he was worthless. Really, this is nothing. I'll survive.

"I'll be fine," I say, giving Sergius a small smile for reassurance.

His eyes widen then blink repeatedly, sadness seeping into his gaze as he nods slightly. "Okay."

Candra has an obsession. As I stand in the kitchen, making an afternoon cup of tea, she lifts the cup and tin from the counter to wipe down the area with a cloth and then continues down the length of the rest of the counter. I glance at her—my eyebrows twitching as I fight looking at her like she's lost her mind—and then escape the kitchen.

"Come sit here, Natsu!" Dante calls from the sofa where he's watching TV. "This show is brilliant. Benidorm. Have you..." He looks at me, trailing off. "You like books, aye?"

I look back behind me to the kitchen, where Candra doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. "Candra is wiping down the fridge again," I mutter. "She did it yesterday too."

Dante takes a sip of wine, still watching the TV. "You'll have to get used to that too. She'll come over here to dust again in about an hour."

"So, as long as she's here, the house will be perpetually... sparkly." Neither Sergius nor I did a lick of cleaning besides tidying up after ourselves.

"Yep," Dante replies, then remarks snarkily, "It's especially handy since Valerian likes to see his reflection in everything." Dante takes another sip of wine. He seems to have an obsession too. A character on the TV screen says something witty, and he chuckles, musing, "Brilliant."

I find myself tilting my head in intrigue. I understand the humor, but... should I laugh? When was the last time I laughed? Have I ever laughed? I've never cried either. I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I alive? I poke my arm, and Dante glances at me with an expression that's either concerned or confused. Maybe both.