Part
I:
“Now
here, I have the golden book with me,” Gabriel said as he brought out the
tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice with a flourish, “read to her, make
observations on her clipboard and be objective.”
With
a grunt, Tristan took the book from his friend and turned it over on his hands.
He said dryly, “Anyone who can manage to be objective as a doctor must be a
hoax.”
“No,
of course not. Just be objective,” Gab stepped forward, “think nice and clear,”
this time, he was twisting the doorknob to room 572 of the secure ward, “and
don’t get attached like a cocky teenager.” Finally, he swung the door open and
gave Tristan a slight push inside. Poor Tristan Devon didn’t even have a half
second for preparation of any kind before he felt the rushing of air from the
closing of the door and the tiny click.
Then
he was all alone.
No, he
thought as he looked at the huddled figure on the bed, not alone.
With
his grip on the little book tightening on every passing second, he gulped and
stepped forward. In no time, he was sitting on his customary stool at the side
of the bed, facing her.
Tristan
gathered positive and encouraging words from his session with Gabriel – they
were something, atleast – before he opened his mouth and said one word,
“Reeya?”
For
a moment, he thought no response would come, but the sound of wind chimes came
to him again.
“Hmm?”
The
melody captured and overwhelmed him for an instant and he forgot how to speak.
It assaulted him in the sweetest was possible, and he was undone.
He
cleared his throat, “So, what do you want to do today?” The silence that
followed was too long, but nonetheless, Reeya replied at the last second, “Do I
get to choose this time?”
“Yes,
of course. Anything.” Tristan’s mind was in a whirl and his stomach was doing
somersaults. He never even noticed that what he said wasn’t technically true; he
can’t let Reeya decide to do anything because
first and foremost she is a patient. She wasn’t even officially a recovering
patient.
All
of these were lost to him.
“Can
we go outside?”
Tristan’s
eyebrows shot up as Reeya slowly turned to face him and blinked innocently, as
if to accentuate the goodness of her intentions of going out. He didn’t even
stop and think about it – of course she can go outside. There was no question.
Frankly, if Tristan can give her all the things she wants, he would in a blink of
an eye.
“Of
course we can,” he said to her, full of smiles, “Do you want me to bring
anything while we’re walking? Water or maybe a book? Something to eat, probably
– ”
“Ice
cream?” she said, crossing her legs, and with a hint of a smile forming on her
face, Tristan couldn’t supress his own grin, “Flavor?”
The
answer was immediate, “Cookies and cream?” There was a genuine smile gracing
her face now, reflecting the happiness she had over something so small. He
chuckled jovially and was able to utter, “Yes, anything at all.” He placed the
book on the top of the bedside table and turned his earnest eyes on her.
Tristan
felt like a teacher giving crucial reminders to a kindergarten. He said,
“Reeya, I’m going to get our ice creams outside, okay? I won’t be long and when
I get back, I want you to be ready, alright?”
Quietly,
but with the small smile still on her delicate features, she bobbed her head
several times, reassuring Tristan that somehow, in a way, she understood his
message.
“Okay,
then.” Barely hiding his ecstasy, he shot up from his stool and went to the
direction in which he came, and turned the knob. Before he went outside, he
couldn’t resist craning his neck and to look back at her one last time. He
said, Be right back.”
As
soon as he was sure that the door was closed behind him, he ran full-sprint in
the middle of the hallway, ignoring the odd stares he got from the passers-by.
He
couldn’t care less about what they thought. He was still smiling as he
navigated his way towards the elevators.
Ice cream, he
thought to himself almost feverishly, pacing back and forth in front of the
closed shaft on the wall. He looked at the floor indicator of the elevator on
the right and saw number five.
Fifth floor, he
thought with frustration. Where’s the one
for the third?
As
he was pacing toward the left for the twelfth time, his gaze fell upon the
stairs.
The
staff of Macquarie Hospital often referred to the stairs as the commitment test
– the steps were transparent, pure glass. The architects reassured them
thousands of times that it was secure, but nobody ever had the guts to agree.
Every step you take, you can see to the depths below and pinpoint other lower
skyscrapers that looked like Lego blocks and the cars looked like ants
scurrying to other ends.
It
was terrifying enough and even people without acrophobia were scared out of
their senses.
As
Tristan eyed this very same set of stairs, he automatically felt his heartbeat
hasten – he was never a fan of heights. Never. Traumatic experiences from his
early childhood prevented him from being able to look down on a railing of any
three-story building.
And
he’s supposed to go to the third floor…
His
eyes snapped back to the elevator, flashing the number five and then turned his
gaze to the frightening stairs.
Then
he thought of Reeya.
To hell with it, he
cursed inwardly and made his way to the ‘commitment test.’
Part
II:
With
stealth worthy of Death himself, an unknown man in a gray suit and matching tie
went along the third floor of the same hospital. The guards were easier to fool
than expected – the man’s fabricated ID and well-articulated lie about applying
for a new job as an assistant psychiatrist worked like magic. The stranger got
in without any complications, as was expected.
The
man was keeping his eyes on the plaques on each door, but he remained practiced
enough to remember to look inconspicuous as not to attract attention; it was
something he could not afford. The task was to keep a low profile, do what’s
supposed to be done, and get out before anyone noticed.
He
was getting rather agitated when he passed more than a dozen plaques on the
same kind of wood when he saw it.
The
first thing that registered was confusion. Why
is the door open? But then, the stranger smiled and prepared to go in the
said room. So what if the door was open?
All the more better.
Part
III:
5
minutes later
Tristan
Devon was breathing heavily and his heart was beating like crazy when he
finally walked away from the last glass step on the third floor. He let himself
feel the rush of relief. He was ridiculously happy about his feet touching the
opaque, concrete floor that yet again, strange looks were sent to his
direction.
Why did they have to build those
damned stairs, anyway?
With
some of his confidence returning, he walked purposefully through the throng of people,
giving small smiles to familiar faces and tried to remember where he put his
wallet. Tristan was almost certain that it was inside the pocket of his tweed
jacket, but when he stopped at his door, he knew everything was ruined.
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