“Humor me.”
I hope you understand the look I’m giving you, Scout. I have been humoring you. And frankly, I don’t find myself to be a funny person--so exactly how much humor do you expect from me?
I understand your intentions. Your smile gives you away. You know I know that. And I know you know that. But you do it anyway to tickle my feathers, probably. I can’t say you’ve failed.
“Funny thing you’re doing with your eyebrows there, fella. Care to demonstrate again?”
I sigh. You smirk wryly. When will the routine end?
“Is there anything particular you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Lighten up there. You’ve got to remove yourself from the patient--counsel mindset and enjoy talking to your fellow man.” You’re giving me that smile again. “Let’s just chat.”
“Scout,” I drawled out evenly, “Your definition of ‘chat’ is pretty skewed, from what I recall of our last ‘chat.’ If you want to ask me about my condition, I’ve written everything of relevance in my journal. Everything else is hardly of your concern.”
You look at me as if I’ve nicked your feelings. I frown. You’re not good at making me feel guilty as you are at making me feel uncomfortable.
“I’ll choose what is of relevance or not, Leon. I thank you for your detailed daily accounts, but they are mainly about your condition and such. And before you tell me that everything else doesn’t matter, I would like to oppose your opinion. Leon, you’ve been here for almost five years now. Your condition has almost completely disappeared. That’s good, but we both know that your Synesthesia isn’t your problem. You have good reason to be as withdrawn as you are, but it doesn’t hurt to try to live. Live, Leon. Not just keeping yourself alive and off the path of self destruction. It’s different. You know that.” You twirl your wrist, making senseless figures in the air as if it would help prove your logic or point. “Now, suddenly, you tell me you’ve had a feeling--a strong one, at that--that you don’t know how to explain. You actively try to seek out someone, for reasons unknown to yourself. I see you space out more often. Dr. Phillip has noticed, Ms. Yun has spoken to me on several accounts, and Season will not stop worrying about you. So, will you care to grow up, Leon, and accept our help?”
I suddenly feel indignant. Perhaps not at you, but what you’ve unintentionally accused me of. I can’t seem to raise my voice beyond a low growl of sorts. “Yes, I’ve been at this special orphanage for almost five years. I help Ms. Yun with maintain the place, I explain my medical history to Dr. Phillip, and I speak with you about everything you’ve wanted me to. Not because I feel obliged, because I don’t anymore, but because this has been my only home for the last five years. You think it’s my own stubbornness that prevents me from ‘living,’ huh? It’s not.”
I decided to end my train of thought there. I don’t feel resentment towards what my father did to our family. My family. I can’t say exactly how much of a family it really was to him. I can’t tell. I don’t want to at this point. But lack of resentment does not mean I can just ignore the fact that it has happened. You keep on telling me to ‘forgive and forget,’ but do you understand how ridiculous those words are?
Some things are not meant to be forgotten; good or bad, it stays. For better or worse, it stays.
Your expression softens. You look like you’re about to comfort me.
“I understand,” you whisper.
Maybe you do. I can’t judge you.
“You’ve been through a lot, Leon. I know what this place means to you, and that’s why you’ve stayed with us even now…when you’re free to go. But I’m not saying you’re refusing our help, I’m saying you’re afraid to get to the root of the problem. You have every right to, but I’m asking you not to. It’s a big request, I know, but you won’t refuse me, will you?”
You’re smiling again. This time, I can’t read it. Seems like you’re doing quite a number on me today. Scout, you’re a real bastard when you need to be.
I sigh, again. Seems like I’ve been doing that a lot lately.
“Fine. What do you want to talk about this time?”
“We’ll talk, like always. But before that, I want to ask you to do a little something. Oh, Don’t look so suspicious! I just wanted you to do some volunteering. It’ll last for about a month. It’s an enrichment program for some children. You’re smart. Helping kids read and doing crafts with them isn’t a challenge for you.”
You seem so certain. This is insufferable. Your eyes are literally twinkling, for whatever reason. It’s amazingly disturbing.
“There’s something you’re not including in this scheme of yours.”
“Scheme?” You look at me in mock offence. “No such thing. This is a chance to help others…and yourself, of course.”
I don’t like the idea already. I have a feeling my preference in the matter will not make a difference, though.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Minute gestures can speak volumes for certain people. That I’m aware of it. As for Leon, although he tries to keep all his emotions all bundled up, he is actually quite bad at keeping what he thinks to himself. For the last few weeks, he’s been spacing out more often. He’s always been a genius, doing well in school and working hard at his job. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a clue.
I asked Dr. Phillip about Leon. Nothing’s the matter, he says. If anything, his case is improving by the day. After four years, he’s almost completely recovered. I wish that were the case for me. I’m glad my condition is light, but I want to believe I can be like Leon. I want to go to a normal school and have the life of a normal girl.
I approached Leon the other day. He said he was well, but I knew better. He seemed to be a bit unhappy about something, but for the life of me, I cannot figure out what. But, I asked him to give me a tour of the college in a few days. To my surprise, he agreed. I’m so happy. I haven’t been so happy in a while. I’ve been out of the clinic many times before, but this is the first time I’m going anywhere with Leon. It’s strange…I want to say that I’m even excited, but I don’t know why I would be.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Season has been restless of late. I don’t want to talk about others, especially not here, for I have neither the right nor the insight to do so, but her endless energy has been affecting me. Sometimes I feel tired with her constantly bouncing around, and sometimes my patience runs thin and I have to prevent myself from losing my temper. I am indifferent to it all, but even I have my limits.
Perhaps she’s excited about going to college soon. That’s why she’s so eager to visit the campus with me this Saturday. There won’t be as many people, and I suppose that is a good thing. She’ll become overwhelmed if too many people are in her surrounding. That is only my assumption, though.
Regardless, yes, I will mind to take care of her while she is off site with me. She is precious to me, in a way, as well.
Tomorrow, I will start volunteering at the community center, at your dictations. You already know I am not too keen on the idea. I suppose what I am fond of or not isn’t really your objective here. I’ve been trying to figure out what your plan is, and I think I have a clue. Right or wrong, as my hypothesis goes, it’s not in my nature to complain now that I have already consented. What you are doing is most likely pointless, but I will “humor you,” as you so eloquently requested.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“Season.”
Strange, really. How is it that dog sounds like Ms. Yun? Oh, there it is, calling for me again. Wait, since when did dogs begin to talk?
“Season, wake up.”
The image of the talking dog slowly dissipated, leaving me alone in my hazy thoughts for a split second. Groggily, I force my eyelids apart to reveal Ms. Yun looking at me in a pleasantly stern way. I try to smile sheepishly at her with the edges of my lips mildly chapped. I blinked a couple of times before I remember to look at my alarm clock. I peered around the room. The other beds were unoccupied and already made. Running my hand through my hair as a makeshift comb, I yawned quietly and turned back to the woman still standing next to the charcoal colored doorframe.
“Mmm…’morning Ms. Yun!”
“Not morning any more, missy. It’s nearly noon, and all the other children have finished their breakfast. They’re doing some silent reading right now.”
I stretched my hands to my toes, working out the knots in my bed. I return my gaze to Ms. Yun with a warm smile. “I’m too old for silent reading. I stayed late to finish all the practice problems you gave me last night, so I slept in.”
Ms. Yun eyes waned in a friendly way. “I’m glad you’re working hard, but try not to change your internal clock. What will you do when you start college? Your little clock over there hardly lives up to its function, for all its purpose.”
The amusement never left her eyes as I grinned at her. “But I have you.uuuu.”
“And what if I happen to be unavailable?”
Oh. Right. “Well, I have Leon. He’ll be around.”
Ms. Yun has a funny expression on her face but doesn’t say anything. She smiles after a moment. “Come down to breakfast when you’re ready.”
I stayed sitting in bed for the next thirty seconds thinking; thinking about practically nothing at all.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“It’s so nice to have intelligent, compassionate kids around helping us,“ the volunteer director said to me as we bee-lined around the desk covered office. She brought me into a larger room. “We’re setting up some tables and chairs right now. Why don’t you go help them?”
I nodded and scanned the area, resting my eyes on the girl trying to lift a coffee table, presumably next to the coaches. I approached her and lifted the other corner of the table, the well polished exterior betraying its woody surface when touched.
She look at me and quickly remembered who I was. She offered a small smile. I offered nothing in return.
Together, we lifted the table to the other side of the room. I released my grip when I was certain she was happy with the table’s new location. She patted her hands together and looked at me again.
I held her gaze.
“It’s a surprise to see you here.” Her voice conveyed honesty, but her expression revealed no such surprise.
“I expected to see you.”
My simple admission to her must have startled her slightly. Her eyes rounded in a bemused fashion. She looked at the coffee table then back at me. “Is that so?”
I didn’t reply. There was no need. She didn’t expect an answer. She probably didn’t need one.
Instead of continuing the conversation, she turned around and approached a female arranging papers on a lone desk near the entrance of the room. She was saying something to her, but I couldn’t hear. The lady beamed at Ci and handed her the stack of paper she was previously sorting. She then called out to the boy who conveniently just finished moving the chairs to the round table, and exited the room together. Ci walked back to me, around me, and situated herself on the middle coach. She placed the stack of papers on the tables and started sorting.
Apparently, she felt no need for conversation.
And strangely, as a result, I felt the need to illicit it.
“Do you need help?” Clearly it was not a question that assessed her ability to sort papers.
She looked at me and smiled. I felt relief wash through me like an afternoon rain, unexpected and refreshing. I found a seat a foot away from her and picked up half of the stack and quickly deciphered how she was arranging the forms.
Falling in a steady pace, the soft rustling of papers became a comfortable rhythm that served as a background distraction to the confusion I felt. My head was blank. I didn’t know what to think.
“You never answered my question.”
I didn’t stop in my task and continued to watch his my move, almost mechanically now.
“Scout sent me here. He must have thought that further interactions with you would help me.”
She didn’t indicate any emotions on her soft features. Nor her voice. “He thinks that.”
“Yes.” I answered her statement.
“I don’t think I can be of much help.”
“I don’t either.”
She paused in her work and turned to look at me. She didn’t look offended, but a bit alarmed. “Then why are you here?”
“Because he asked me to.” I told her my reason. I lied.
She smiled blankly. “Really?”
“No.”
She resumed her work as I resumed mine. I didn’t even notice that I’ve stopped.
“I see.”
“So you do.”
I saw her smile from the corner of my eyes. “You’re a funny person.”
I contemplated the thought. “So are you.”
She laughed. I was startled by the sound. So familiar and hollow. I dropped the papers I was holding and stared at her.
“You’ve been running.” I didn’t know what I implying, intentionally, unintentionally.
But she seemed to. Her voice was neutral and crystal clear.
“So have you.”
