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© 2015, William Tran
William Tran
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Prologue: Dust
There’s a bridge that connects Dorothy
Point and Saint Fellers, although it’s pretty useless. Actually, I’m pretty
sure the only reason why it’s even had contact with anything other than dust is
for its solitude. There’s a quiet breeze that hovers over the bridge. If you
listen closely, you can hear slight whispers, secrets travelled all the way
from Norway. I never understand them and I only ever hear so many, but I should
learn Norwegian. I’m very curious. Nothing really ever happens to raise this
dust though; no cars, no gang wars or any wild encounters – only lonely people
wisping unnoticed. They linger in and long for this place because it’s one to
think. It’s a place for the judged to be relieved of shame and for the quiet to
be quiet – to have quiet. I was only ever there once. And it was beautiful. It’s a useless bridge, but from time to
restless time, it was someone’s saviour. For me, the bridge was the centre of
my universe, the singularity of my very being and the meeting place of all my
ghosts. It was sanctuary.
THE PHTHISIS OF
THE APPLE
Part One: The Rocking
Train
The
ride is routine, mundane but so absolutely, and painfully, necessary. Every
morning I ride to the city on these terribly rickety trains and I know. I know
that such is life and we all go through the trivial to find something amazing –
something worth living for. But every single morning I wake up dreading, and
how, in any sense, could that be considered living?
It’s always two blocks after
Bluevine, the beautiful purple face that’s painted on the back of an apartment
building. The face wasn’t ever completed, but it was a perfect outline. It held
the most mesmerising gaze, made with eyes that held onto nothingness and yet
held everything surrounding them. Over time, a little hedge had overgrown in
front of it, and the face became hidden. It shuddered away from onlookers like
myself, but I can still see it and feel it. I will always see it and I will
always feel it. I’ve never really found a name for her, just- things to call
her. ‘The violet lady’ – a popular choice these past few weeks. The train can
only zoom past her. She is only seen for two seconds, and yet it is in these
seconds that we have the most wonderful conversations, travelled at light
speeds – a million words exchanged in one breath.
“Does your hair flow behind the
wall, Violet Lady?”
“Are you happy, Violet Lady?”
“Were you ever married, Violet
Lady?”
“Will you ever come out, Violet
Lady?”
She answers every time, every
question, and her voice is so soft and yet it’s so unbelievably powerful. Her
lips never move in the process and yet, I feel as if she’s the most clever and
beautiful woman I’ve ever spoken to. But, when she answers, I sometimes don’t
believe her. I never tell her this, but I can never believe that she’s truly
happy. And I can’t understand how she can live to let her hair flow so voluptuously
behind a brick wall, never seeing, only believing that it exists.
“Will you ever forgive me, Violet
Lady?”
Help, I’ve gone insane. I speak
to a piece of graffiti every morning and she helps me feel less alone.
The train’s rocking slowed and I
braced myself for the slight push that came upon arrival. It’s a very heavy
push – those unfamiliar would fall forward and their cheeks would become bright
red. The doors had slid open and there, coming into view with direct sunlight
was Blue Vine’s busy landscape. The people left and right of me who had been
waiting anxiously to hurry off to wherever they were hurrying off to pushed and
pushed and pushed into and through their lives. I never really pushed; I always
let them carry me to work. But this time, I felt like a heavy column holding up
a pier, pushed and yet not affected by the waves that crashed into me. I
proceeded to hold onto the leather strap that hung above me and after the
carriage had emptied, I stayed standing. My vision became empty and before I
knew it, the doors were sliding back into place.
I
missed my stop.
The carriage seemed so much
lighter, like the train was under much less stress and the rocking – the
rocking had stopped. It didn’t make sense but it happened. I could have sworn
the rocking stopped. The rocking train had no longer cradled my inhibitions and
yet I felt so safe. I rode the train all the way to the end of the line that
day, and then I rode it all the way back home.
Part Two: Which way
is right?
I rode the rocking train down to
Wynona Beach today. I missed the sun and the salt and the blue and tan that
raided my senses. My thongs were hanging from my fingers as I waded through the
shallow seas. The water kissed the bottom of my legs, just under where I had
stopped rolling up my jeans. And under that, I could feel my toes sinking
slowly, finding solace within the sand that had crept between them.
I swear
I’ve never been so frequently impulsive before. The most I had been before the
train incident was back in high school when I truanted and got lost in the
beautiful greenery that spread all the way along the river. I found myself
chasing nymphs along the creek and they were so beautiful and they told me that
if I was one with nature, I’d be just like them. So I buried myself in the
bushes and leaves and sunk into the earth. And in the greenery, I met a boy who
said he’d never met a single soul in his life. He told me I was pretty and that
those nymphs didn’t know what beauty was if it ate them alive. He told me all
his secrets, saying that he had to. He’d stored them up over so many years and
he had to talk to somebody. So I told him mine and we laughed for ages. I had
never felt so happy before and it was in the midst of our playing about that I
was pulled from the leaves. A man in dull blue clothes dragged me home. The
creek became so dark and lit by only torches of the adults I knew. I found my
mother crying after I had a bath and then I wasn’t allowed to watch TV for a
month after that. I did as I was told ever since. I guess it was in fear of
seeing my mother cry again or never watching Danky Duck in the mornings.
That
day at the beach, I stared into the distant ocean ends and I had this odd
yearning, deep in my stomach. I stepped forward towards the horizon and though
the cuffs of my jeans were dampened I headed deeper into the seas. I waded,
unsure of what I was doing or why I needed to. I had had dreams of Neptune
finding my soul and telling me that I did well. I had dreamt of becoming the
foam that rode up onto the seashores. I dreamed of being pulled down by the
seaweed. I had dreams of finding Atlantis and being accepted as one with the
ocean, but every single time I did, I woke up and I found myself drowning in
bed sheets. So I walked as the tide climbed my hips, up to my waist, past my
chest and until it took in my chin. I was merely part of a head peeking out of
the blue. I closed my eyes and dreamed again. But this time I did not wake to
be interrupted by the world. This time, I found myself in a deep spell. And
when I opened my eyes, the sky had blackened and yet the water glowed. It
glowed a light, neon blue and it lit up the sky, casting shadows on rainclouds.
That day or night or whatever it was, gave sight to the most beautiful things I
had ever seen. And like a dream come true, I was pulled down into the depths by
an unknown force. Perhaps it was the seaweed. I lost the air in my lungs
quickly – they ran away in their bubbles, away from me. I was being dragged
viciously towards the centre of the Earth and when it had stopped and I was
steadily floating in an almost empty ocean, I found myself in front of the boy
from the bushes again.
He gave me breath and told me I
had grown so much. He said I smelled like salt and happiness and he touched my
cheek. He slid his hand down the side of my face and told me I was beautiful. I
was here again. I found my way back. He was just as mesmerising as the first
time we met. I held onto him so tightly, and we talked about how our lives had
been. I didn’t have much to share, but he had a whole world’s worth of stories
of his adventures travelling through the silhouettes of city benches and
walking bikini babes. I listened for aeons to the sweetness that felt like a
cascade of blossoms would look or a warm bath in winter would feel. He had
grown so much since we last met and I had a peculiar thought. I grabbed his
hand and I pushed myself towards the surface. I could see the sun beam through
the water and yet as I tried to rise towards it, I was yanked back into the
depths until I found myself falling, as if off a chair, and into the hard, dry
sand of Wynona. I choked out the last few cups of seawater. The boys in red and
yellow told me I was alright, and that I shouldn’t have gone out so far. How
far I had gone out, I still don’t know. All I know was that I met an old friend
and I was so happy that day at the beach.
Part Three: We Are
But Merely Human
I
didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I dreamed of him often. But I don’t think
I will again. I know how to find him, or, at least I think I do. But I will
miss the times we had in my sleep. I remember this one time, when we stood at a
hilltop in Taiwan. It was around midnight, but the lights of homes were still
brightly lit. The lights were separated, shining like star signs and they added
a tint of blue to the green of the land and the black of the dark. It was
beautiful. We stood and we watched. I didn’t see his face in that dream but I
knew it was him because who else could I just stand and watch and enjoy
midnight Taiwan with other than him? I ask that question every day.
Part Four: Fae
I feel like a will-o'-wisp, floating through life. I feel completely
weightless, as if I have no effect on the earth at all, and the earth has no
effect on me. I'm filled with absolute glee right now. This can only last so
long.
Part Five: Lost
I lost
my job today. They told me my position in the company was no longer available.
I would’ve fought. But I was never really a fighter. I wasn’t a lover either. I
was just lost – all the time. But this time, the feeling was different. The
area underneath my eyes swelled for a few seconds and if I had any notion of
letting go, I would’ve broken down right then and right there. But instead, I
sat across from my manager and avoided eye contact. That moment was one of the
lowest points of my life. If you had been sitting where my manager was, you
would’ve seen the look on my face. The look of bottled-up pain and neglect and
tears and anger and tiredness, all choked back. I was a mess, zip locked and
ready to shrivel and burst and shrivel and burst.
My
manager, not sure how to deal with the situation, pushed a small box of Kleenex
towards my way. I looked at the box, then at a paperweight at the other end of
the desk and then back at the box. And like spit and slobber rushing out of his
mouth, a waterfall of insidious, repeated lies spewed onto my very sad life.
All this talk about severance and the opportunities that await me. And then
came the quotes, “When one door closes, another one opens.” And so, I clenched
my fists and my teeth started grinding. For the first time in my life, I was
angry. And it worried me and like an avalanche, I was piled under a vast array
of emotions that went from fear of my emotions to fear of what I might do. And within
that second, my manager was everything that was wrong to the world – my world.
I looked straight into his eyes and pierced right through them. From
rabbit-heart to that of a lion, I grew fierce. I was ready to pounce and-
“Are you okay?”
He finally asked me if I was
okay. I let out a small, broken breath from the back of my throat and quickly
sucked it back in. I settled down. I asked him if he needed anything else from
me and then I left – so quietly and calmly. I never wanted to be that person
again. I cried in the women’s room and cleaned myself up with toilet paper. And
then I walked through the streets of Bluevine Central and got lost.
Part Six: I’ll Find
You
My mind
was set like sediment. I was going to find him. I thought long and hard about
how I was going to live my frail/fragile life and amongst all the slow-motion
and the rays of daylight spread out and shining like lines on blueprint, I
found that the sun was forgiving only when it did not show – in the depths of
foliage, my mind and the ocean.
I found
myself floating in idle sheets, that night, completely and utterly awake under
the flow of orange streetlights and the hush of stale nothingness in empty
halls. I had never been so nervous about falling asleep before. Was I going to
see him? Would he tell me where to find him? I shut my eyes and I shut out the
whole world as well. I emptied my mind and let go of my body.
It was
sudden.
I could
open my eyes again but I was veiled by a light haze. I could move my eyes but
the rest of my body was absolutely motionless. I was stuck still and my breath
had become so incredibly heavy. I started to panic. This was so completely new
to me and it felt so uncomfortable and I wanted to move but I couldn’t. I was
helpless and I was alone and I was afraid.
And yet
again, it was so sudden.
My
heart slowed and I could… I could feel him. I began to relax. I felt this
warmth right beside me. I couldn’t turn
my head to see, but I knew exactly who it was lying beside me. I was here
again.
He
asked me how I was. I said I was lost initially but that I had felt better. I
told him how unsure I was about my life and everything that had led up to this
moment – the slow rise and the heavy fall. I told him that I needed to find him
and stick to him like glue on home-made wings. He asked me if I was absolutely
sure and I replied that I had never been so sure of anything in my life. What
scared me the most was that that was so depressingly true. He said that I
already knew exactly how to find him. He kissed me on the cheek, softly and
lightly, and left.
And one
last time, it was sudden.
I was
released from whatever deep spell I was in. My muscles relaxed furthermore and
I was washed anew with the knowledge of how to find the boy who held my hand in
the depths. And in that heavenly moment, my life had purpose and intent and
direction and it was real. I was
going to find him.
Part Seven: Don’t
Ever Limit My Love
Within one step, I could
feel the change. My bones unclenched and grew lighter. My whole body shivered
and then relaxed and I could exhale for
once in my life. I could breathe. This was it. I was here and so was he.
My
whole world had fallen apart so quickly, silently and effortlessly. He stood by
the loneliest bridge I had ever seen. It slept wrapped in fog. He put his
wilted hand up and I waved back. He stood like an oasis, new beginnings in
flesh and muscle and skin.
My legs, unfamiliar with this
sensation of motivation and eagerness to reach, wobbled on and off the path. I
just wanted to smell his skin like I once did and feel his arm hairs just touch
my fingertips but I found myself being pulled back, held back, and dragged
back. It was as if my prior life had finally collapsed within itself and a
vacuum had taken its place. It called for me, like a voice down a well and
pulled, like gravity upon a crashing plane. I was not going back. I refused to
be who I used to be and so I pushed against the current, aching and longing for
new teeth and new hairs and new cells – a brand, new life.
I put my hand out to him and he
pulled me in – a girl lost at sea come across a wandering captain, a saviour at
last. And within seconds of contact, the fog had taken us in and it cradled the
both of us and within seconds, he whispered all his secrets, his very being,
all of his history and everything to come – dust and air, time and space, all
in one breath, all into my ear and my head and my mind. And within seconds, all
I held onto was fog. My thoughts cracked under all the pressure of lessons
learnt and knowledge revealed.
The fog had lifted, I was reborn
with new hairs, new skin, new cells and a brand new life and I was filled with
the energy of days upon days upon days.
Epilogue: Last Words
You’ve been searching for beauty your whole life – in talking street
art, glowing waters and Midnight Taiwan – and you ended up finding me in the
thick of it all. I know you’ll be hurt but it’s time to lift the fog and for me
to leave. I’ve explored the world, my dear, and believe me, there is beauty
everywhere. Unshroud your mind and look around. Don’t ignore the plains you
walk in. Find beauty, not just in day-dreams but in your real-life surroundings.
Find beauty in the fall, the crash and the burn. Find beauty in the steps you
take, in the rocking train and in the hearts of strangers. Turn around and
start anew. Your life neither ends nor starts with me but rather, it continues.
It begins again if you want it to.
We’ll never meet again but you don’t need me as much as you used to.
You’re not that lost little girl anymore. You’re a wiser woman now, I should
hope. The world is still unknowing of how gorgeously powerful you are. But that
will all change soon.
Clara, I want you to listen very clearly and very carefully. Once this
fog is gone, you will have to make a choice. Behind you is your life. If you
turn around, then you might find that everything will be eerily familiar, like
déjà vu. You will walk your life the same way you did a year ago. Clara, I
present to you a second chance, a do-over – you could change the world that
used to be. Or, you could cross the bridge. The future is unknown, my dear, but
it’s exciting isn’t it? You won’t know a thing that will be coming your way and
that’s just as scary but you’re smarter now. You’ll be okay, either way, I’m
sure. Consider this a parting gift, Clara. You’re standing at the centre of the
universe and the singularity point of all beings. Your life lays now entirely
in your hands. Choose wisely, as I know you will. Goodbye and good luck. The
fog is lifted.
He kissed me on the head and
left. I breathed in again and it was as if I was breathing through brand new
lungs that were no longer so tightly wound. I had become a whole person and I was standing between two completely different
lives. I looked behind me at the life I once lived. He was right. I had many
regrets and I had a chance to rewrite everything. But I looked at the fog ahead
of me as well, and it seemed like it was lined with silver, the mist. Where the
bridge lead, I had no idea, but it was a tempting offer. I took one last deep,
unforgiving breath and walked – complete and anew.
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