JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER

July started with a sudden fever (38.5°C, or 101.3°F if you like it better that way).

“Virus”, was a universal verdict from the medical professionals.

“Stay at home and rest as long as you have it!”

Apart from the temperature, there was nothing else wrong physically. I didn’t feel tired, restless, listless, or experienced bouts of sleeplessness. I even slept well, ventured out in 40°C to run some quick errands, read, did yoga, all the while living in a haze of 38.5°C.

The second week I thought I could do a bit of cleaning. I ended up with three huge garbage bags full of paper, loads of copied materials, old magazines, clothes and my grandpa’s rusty gadgets. While I was stashing them by the dumpsters, deciding where I should dump the gadgets (no garbage recycling for that), I felt a shiver down my spine. Weird since I was hot and the sun even more so. Sweaty like hell as well, constantly pushing damp locks out of my eyes. While debating with myself what to do with the third bag of electronic waste, something brushed against my naked arm. I turned around thinking how boring those flies were.

Nothing, just hot stifling air but not for long. The moment I put the third bag next to the dumpster, I felt a soft breeze along my skin. I looked up, turned around. Nothing was moving, the leaves on the trees and the laundry on the balcony lines were lifeless. Still nature. I turned again and my garbage bag was tucked away safely into the mesh container.

“Ha”, I said aloud. My brain must be running a really high fever making it delusional, I thought. I went back to my apartment, the street empty with nothing moving, not even a cockroach or a fly, just like in some old zombie movie from the 70s I had watched with my father when I was a kid – glaring sun and no person in sight.

I spent the following week moving stuff around the house, trying to place an oil radiator on top of the shelves at 3AM. Then I would shower and sleep until 11 the next day and never felt a twinge of guilt which used to be a regular thing even during summer holidays. Now I just didn’t care. If I had to do any errands, it was natural for that to take place during the hottest hours of the day.

As I was paying at the cash register in the drugstore, one of my colleagues also stood in line and asked me to wait for her. She also ventured out when it was hottest because there were no people at that hour and you were able to finish all your errands in a very short time.

She suggested drinks, so we went to the nearest café. We weren’t close because we had always misunderstood each other’s intentions, even when they were honest and true. Probably different types of communication styles. However, that afternoon, while we were sitting in the garden, we started circling around some sage topics in a very careful manner and as the tension disappeared, our chat became more natural and spontaneous.

“How wrong I was about her”, I thought, warming up to this woman whose tone and wording always used to hit me in the wrong spot.

At that very moment I felt someone squeezing my right shoulder in a reassuring way, a large strong hand for sure, a hand that used to squeeze that shoulder often in such a familiar fashion.

I turned around quickly, the presence was almost palpable. I could have sworn he was behind me.

“What’s wrong?”, my colleague asked. I couldn't believe there was nobody behind me, just the two of us in a café garden.

“Nothing, I was sure someone was behind me! I felt a strong hand on my shoulder!”, I said looking left, right and again behind me.

She was looking at me with so much compassion.

“You know, when we miss someone so much and if that person loved us a lot, they still linger around, making sure we know they are still there for us”, she said in a quiet tone.

“Oh, no, I swear there was someone behind me! Haven’t you seen him?”, I asked confused.

She looked at me and said:

“Hanna, you are still grieving. It is natural to think that person is still by your side.”

I went still and she tactfully changed the topic. We spent a pleasant afternoon and promised each other we should repeat this again some time.

I suddenly woke up to the sunshine and light pouring through the room. I was in a familiar but completely unknown place, with big windows and lots of sunlight. The room had an en-suite bathroom and I decided to shower and make myself presentable before going out to see where I was. I opened the wardrobe and there were my favorite sundresses. I picked a polka dot yellow just in time before the doorbell.

I went to open, and someone’s hand handed me a black, shiny gun. I didn’t have time to react: I was too shocked. Just a pair of hands shoving a gun into mine. It was a Glock, and I was surprised to have known that. I held it by the grip and turned around. An even bigger surprise was waiting for me – my mother was at the long wooden counter that divided that big, beautiful space into the living room, and the kitchen and dining room area. There was a huge balcony overlooking a bustling city on the hill. I knew we were abroad. There was so much light and space. My mother gave me a red tablecloth to shake it out and I used it to cover the gun, all the while praying for it not to be loaded. She had noticed the gun.

“How on Earth did you get hold of that thing?”, she shrieked. I tried to explain the doorbell and the hands but she waved me off.

“Get rid of that thing and shake off the tablecloth!”

I stepped out on the balcony, gave it a few vigorous shakes and went inside.

“Oh, before I forget, you need to talk to them!”

“Them? Who are THEM?!”

She pointed left and right simultaneously using both arms.

“There is that guy you’ve been dating, doing his blueprints and what not. He’s waiting in the room on your left”, she said. I had no idea about that guy. Might as well check on him.

“But I strongly suggest you go into the other room on your right. He’s been waiting for you there this whole time”, she said with a meaningful look.

“Who is HE? The other he?”, I asked, completely baffled.

“What do you mean, who is he? Your man, of course. Shawn! Or have you forgotten about him already?”, she frowned.

I felt dread.

“But, Mom, are you crazy? He died last summer! He is dead! Why would he be waiting for me?”, I yelled.

She gave me a “behave yourself” look.

“There are some things left unsaid and unexplained between you two. Besides, I am dead too and you have no problems talking to me!”

Suddenly, I felt a calming breeze and woke up with a start. This time I was really awake. 03:42 AM. Good timing.

“That woman cannot help herself for the life of her! Even dead, she us pushing me in the wrong direction!”, I complained to my brother later and we laughed.

“Well, you can’t say she’d never had your best interest at heart! After all, Mom still wants you to be happy, even dead!”

“Oh, what a tangled web she used to weave, God rest her soul!”

Still, it was kind of consoling to believe that those two were thinking of me, wherever they may be. It gave me a sense of security though one thing kind of gnawed at me for a while - what happened with the Glock?

By noon, my fever was gone and I rejoined the brave new world, fresh as a rose, rested and calm, with a breeze in my heart and light in my eyes.