My own reality

26

The stars twinkle bright, white dots of light punched into the inky blue blanket of night. I’m sitting on a chair in the backyard. I don’t know what time it is but I know I'm the only one here. The stars aren’t as bright as they were when I was in the field with Tiffany because of the distant city lights, but I can work with this.
The euphoria of the moment washes over me, but not as strong as it usually is because of the medicine. The medicine does two simple things. It numbs all emotions and makes them last at least ten seconds, give or take. So very soon, I'm bored by the moment but I can’t call to be taken back. This beats sitting in the white room.
“Jason,” a voice says behind me.
I don’t turn to greet the approaching guest. I continue at the twinkling little stars. The guest moves to stand in front of me.
“It’s mommy,” she says. “I brought you a cheese burger, your favourite.”
My eyes travel lazily to her, to the white box and then back to the stars.
“I had to sneak it in,” she says. “Since outside food is not allowed,”
“Thank you,” I say blankly.
There is a five second silence.
“We miss you back at home,” she says. “Dad moved back in,”
Home. I haven’t seen home for a long time now.
“I've talked to the doctors,” mom says. “You may be able to come back next month,”
The thought of leaving this place is comforting, but then who will I go back to? By the time they would’ve erased Tyler and Tiffany 2.0 completely.
But staying here is equally depressing. I guess I've reached the point where I let life happen without my consent. I don’t care where I end up now. Even suicide sounds boring. Is it the medication talking or me?
“I’m so excited,” she smiles.
“Me too,” I say, very unexcitedly.
“So how is it here?” she asks.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Aren't you going to say more than two words to me?” she says.
I shrug.
Maybe there is something I want to say, one thing that has bugged me this whole journey.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” I ask.
“Stop who?”
“Dr. Filtz,” I say.
“From doing what?” her question sounds like she knows the answer.
“From telling the doctors to chase me down,” I look at her.
“I did this to help me,”
A half ready surge of anger strikes me. “I didn’t ask for your help. I didn't want any of this,”
“You needed it,” she says.
The anger seizes so I look back at the stars.
“Jason,” she says. “I love you very much.”
I stay silent. It’s not because I’m throwing a tantrum, it’s because I don’t feel the love for her to say ‘I love you too,’ 
“Aren't you going to say you love me too,” she asks.
“No,” I say bluntly.
I look at her. She closes her eyes. A tear escapes her left eye.
“What if you're not real too?” I ask.
She rushes towards me and grips my shoulders. “I’m real,” she says through her increasing tears. “I’m here,”
I don’t flinch when she pulls me into a hug. My hands stay at my side. I'm supposed to feel a love for her, even half of it, but my heart can’t risk letting loose that emotion on someone or something that may turn out to be an imagination too.
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” a nurse says, pulling mom away.
“No, please.” She cries. “Just a little longer,”
She reaches for me as they pull her away, but I merely stare at her.
“Jason!” she screams. “What have you done to him? What have you done to my boy?”
I slowly let my eyes travel back to the stars, her cries slowly disappearing behind me.