[The only story I've ever read is one of tragedy. The only story I've ever written is one of hope.]
***
The only thing that I felt when it all hit me was the sense of déjà vu. I wasn’t expecting the car to skid off the road. I wasn’t expecting it the first time, either.
Will I have the same fate as you?
***
When my vision returned in the hospital room, the first thing I saw was red. More specifically, the glowing red string tied to my ankle. I didn’t think about it at the time; I thought it was just my imagination. My consciousness drifted in and out, never coming or going for too long. Every time I woke up, the glowing string would be there, tied tightly to me at one end and the other end disappearing somewhere behind the door of my white room.
When the doctor came in, I also noticed he had a string on his ankle, too. He started talking about my situation, but I kept my eyes focused only on the string.
“You got into an accident with a drunk driver…”
Ha, that’s the story of my life.
Ah, so that was it. It was another fool who was having the time of his life, unaware that he just may ruin the lives of others. I would know; this wasn’t my first time being hurt because of drinking and driving. Except that time, I wasn’t the victim.
“Excuse me, sir?” I interrupted both him and my depressed thoughts. My doctor looked up from his clipboard to me. “Does this hospital have a tradition or something?”
He looked confused. “What brought that up?”
“Well, it’s just that I think tying red strings to an unconscious patient is a little strange. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted one, and I don’t even know where it goes. Can’t this be a hazard in some cases?”
“Ma’am,” he started, looking at me strangely, “Are you okay?” His next words startled me. “There’s no red string on your ankle.”
…What?
***
Sadly, he wasn’t kidding. Apparently I was the only one able to see the red strings. It bothered me greatly. All around me, doctors and nurses scrambled around, unaware of the fact that right on their ankle was something potentially dangerous. I didn’t know what the strings represented; I was scared.
Is it a way to measure a life span? I once considered. When the string shortens and the other end reaches your end, do you die?
More importantly, how long is my string?
I never got to find out during my stay. After three months of physical therapy, the doctor that I had confused came in with a wheelchair in his hands. I was strong enough to be released from the hospital that day, but my legs would never be released from their own weakness. Starting that day, I could no longer walk.
***
They were in the city, too. The red strings were tied to almost every ankle of every person. I was half expecting to find a few even tied to dogs, cats, and birds, but strangely there were none.
When night came, the strings glowed a warm red, almost tangling me up in their ethereal shine. It was at these times that I felt both awed and suffocated. Why could no one else see this? Was I alone now? Was this beauty all mine?
Or maybe it was not a beauty, but my own little nightmare come to life?
***
I smiled a little jaggedly as Mary-Kate sat down beside me. We were in a small, remote café downtown, sipping drinks after work. Her cup was a latte, mine was warm milk with a bit of honey. The atmosphere cozy, nothing really important going on, temporary comfortable company.
Despite this, my mind was occupied by one observation. Mary-Kate did have a red string tied to her ankle, however there was something off. It was cut.
Judging by Mary-Kate still being healthy and in no real danger, it seemed like my life measuring theory was thrown out the window. So, if it wasn’t that, then what did the red thread represent? Why was Mary-Kate’s cut?
I carefully took a slow sip of my drink, letting the hot liquid sit on my tongue for a moment, numbing it with scalding temperature, but swallowing, letting the burn enter my body.
Thankfully, before I got too fidgety with my thoughts, Mary-Kate piped up. “It’s so nice to sit and talk to you again, Amy,” she smiled at me. There was nothing hidden in her eyes, only happiness and relief. “We haven’t really spent much time together since the…accident.”
Here came the awkward silence. I coughed nervously into my hand, not knowing how to respond to that. Instead, I simply changed the topic.
“So,” I began. “I hear you’re back to school. How’s that working out for you?”
Happy for the save, Mary-Kate’s eyes lit up with earnest excitement. “It’s been great, actually. I was worried, since I haven’t been to school in so long, but Max needs more than just a housewife.” Her eyes saddened slightly at this. “At least, that’s what I think. Max says I’m being an idiot with this decision, but I really want to do it.”
I pursed my lips at the delicate topic. Mary-Kate had been forced into an arranged marriage, hence her often disagreements with her husband, Max.“What are you studying?”
“Well, I’ve been getting a lot into mythology. I never knew Asian beliefs were so interesting!” she chimed. “I mean, I just thought it was dragons and all that, but there’s more! There’s even this one belief of soul mates and stuff. They’re connected by a red string on their ankle! Isn’t that amazing?”
In an instant, I snapped from my thoughts and gave Mary-Kate my full attention. “What?”
Sensing the change in attitude from me, Mary-Kate laughed in a strained manner. It seemed like my abrupt interest was too big a change for her. “I just said that in Chinese belief, soul mates are connected by an invisible red thread tied to their ankles. Does that sound strange?”
“Strange?” I repeated. It was all coming together: the strings, the red, the ends that disappeared into nowhere. I sagged in my seat, unprepared for the rush of realization that surged through me. “No…it’s not strange at all…not at all…”
Please, please don’t let it be true!
Mary-Kate looked at me worriedly and gently grasped my hand. “I’m sorry for bringing soul mates up. That was wrong of me. You’re still trying to move on, aren’t you? It must be painful to be reminded of him.” She tried to look into my eyes. “Just remember that I’m here for you. That’s what best friends are for.”
I wasn’t looking at my best friend, however. No. I stared at the horrifying red string tied to my ankle, almost crying when I realized what might be waiting for me on the other end.
Don’t let it be real!
***
(I remembered the day.)
“Amy, how’s it going?”
“Hello, dear! I’m just making dinner. Are you hungry for anything? Steak? Pasta? Leftovers?”
“Ha, slow down there! You’re so excited, as per usual. Anything you make is fine; you know I’ll eat it up quick as lightning either way. As long as it’s made by you, I’ll eat anything!”
“You’re making me blush! Stop it, you flirt!”
“It’s true, though! Just wait and see, I’ll do anything for you when I get home, okay? I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
“Oh? You’re not at work right now? Why are you coming back so soon?”
“Because it’s your birthday, of course! Mrs. Amy Meyers, thirty five years and counting! How does that sound?”
“No way, I completely forget? Oh gosh, that’s just stupid of me.”
“No worries. I have a cake for you and everything! Then we can be all gushy and romantic!”
“Ha ha, thanks, dear!”
“I have everything planned out, just wait for me. Hey, I know, for your present, how about I give you a pair of wings so you can fly up to the heaven you came from, my angel?”
“Don’t push it, Mr. Bad Pickup Lines!”
“Fine, then I’ll keep the wings for myself, then! Humph. Just don’t be jealous when I fly away to the sun and–"
!!
“Dear? What was that noise?”
“…”
“This isn’t funny. I told you not to push it! Now talk to me already.”
“…”
“…Dear…?”
(Did you know? I waited for your reply on that call. I waited for over an hour for you.)
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Yes? Who is this? Where is my husband? Is he okay?”
“…I picked up this cell phone from the wreckage. It’s still intact, surprisingly. My name is Officer Bailey. You might want to sit down for this, ma’am…”
(That was the day my world shattered. That was the day you left me.)
***
This world keeps on moving without me, doesn't it?
After the talk with Mary-Kate, we went on the subway together.
“Amy, you look tired, especially after that talk. Rest up a bit, okay?” Mary-Kate offered me the disabled space on the subway, leaving her without a place to latch on to. She wandered aimlessly for a seat, handle, or pole. I watched her with concern; I didn't want anybody to suffer because of my crippled body.
Then a man offered his set to her and I saw it. His ankle was tied to a red string. The other end of the string…was attached to the Mary-Kate.
“Brad? It’s you!”
“Mary-Kate! It’s been a long time. Wow, you’re so different. How are you?”
I tilted my head to the side in slight confusion. Mary-Kate, catching my puzzled look, grinned and skipped over to me, her hand in the man’s.
“Amy, this is Brad. He and I were childhood friends from elementary school to high school before I moved. Brad, this is Amy, my best friend.”
Brad smiled at me and shook my hand. His cheerful expression matched Mary-Kate’s perfectly. I nodded at them, already understanding what was happened.
I watched with expecting eyes as Mary-Kate’s cut string slowly tied itself to Brad’s string, melting into it and glowing as strong as ever.
Mary-Kate was right. The red threads were, in fact, the think connecting soul mates. I took a quick scan of the subway, noting all of the threads stretching and tying people together. All of these people were meant to be happy with another person, huh?
That’s…beautiful. I…
“Mary-Kate?!”
My friend spun around quickly, letting go of Brad’s hand in the process. “Honey! I wasn’t expecting you to be on this subway. Isn’t your work in the other direction?”
Max growled at her inquiry. I wrinkled my nose at the stench he gave off. He reeked of alcohol and nicotine. Obviously, he had not been at work, but rather at some bar.
“Well I was expecting you to not be holding hands with another man!” Max roared in anger, pointing towards Brad accusingly.
Brad laughed nervously at this, waving his hands in a nonviolent gesture. “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong. We’re just old friends having a reunion, is all. I’m Brad, her friend, nice to meet you.”
Max scoffed at his introduction. “Friend, eh? You look more like a piece of trash to me.”
“Hey, that was uncalled for,” I spoke up. “Brad’s nice, and he’s not trying to pull anything. Give him a chance and stop pointing fingers at Mary-Kate.”
He slapped me across the face in agitation. “I didn’t ask you, cripple! Know your place!” Mary-Kate gasped and grabbed Max’s hand to stop him from hurting me more, and Brad tried stop him from hurting Mary-Kate instead.
Mary-Kate sobbed. “Please, honey. You’re drunk; don’t do anything rash. Let’s just go home and have a nice night, okay? I promise I won’t hold Brad’s hand ever again.”
“Home?” Max spat. “You’ve got no home now, woman! I’m sick of you messing around and being dumb! I can’t believe you thought you should go to school; that’s got to be the stupidest suggestion I’ve ever heard! It’s over!”
He panted angrily as a police approached us. I had noticed him in the subway earlier; it seemed like he had deemed it appropriate to intervene when Max started to get violent.
The officer came up beside him and gripped his shoulder. “Sir, please step away from the man and women,” he commanded with authority.
Mary-Kate looked at him pleadingly. “Honey, please just listen to the man.”
“Shut up! Don’t order me around!”
Brad frowned at her treatment. “What kind of man are you? She’s just trying to help!”
The officer pressed on. “Sir, this is an order. Stop your actions.”
The next few moments were chaos. Max let out a sound that resembled a charging boar, plowing through the people in the subway and running out of the station. Mary-Kate cried out to him while Brad held her back.
The officer grabbed his walkie-talkie and relayed a message for other officers to catch him. Then he stooped down to my level and examined my face. “Are you alright, Ma’am?”
I could only look at his face. “Officer…Bailey.”
He was surprised for a moment before he, too, recognized me. “Mrs. Meyers? What happened?” He was obviously referring to the fact that I sat in a wheelchair.
Many, many things happened. I think I know how to end it all now, though.
I shrugged nonchalantly. “I was walking, but then a drunk driver ran into me. My legs have permanent damage.”
Officer Bailey’s eyes softened. He knew, even if I didn’t say so, that I was pained by the situation. “A drunk driver? Not again...So soon, too.”
“It’s okay. That’s not important right now. A lot of things have happened since I lost the ability to walk, but I think they are for the better, actually. I finally know why I’m like this now.” For the first time in a long time, I smiled at him.
“Thank you for your help, Officer. You’ve done a lot for me, from notifying me about my husband to helping me get a therapist to rescuing me today. Would you like to accompany me with one more thing?”
Officer Bailey looked at me curiously, but his reply was what I had hoped for. “I have the time, so okay. Where are you going, Mrs. Meyers?”
I called Mary-Kate over and spoke to her. Her tears had died down, thanks to Brad, and I glanced at the thread connecting the two. It was strong; it would last. “I’m leaving at this station, Mary-Kate. I’ll see you again tomorrow? Same time and place?”
Mary-Kate looked at me, shocked that I had finally broken through my antisocial shell. “Of course!” she smiled. “I’ll bring Brad, too. Officer, would you like to come as well?”
Officer Bailey blinked at the sudden invitation, but nodded nonetheless when he got the okay from me.
I sighed at the dramatic difference, slouching as Officer Bailey got behind me and pushed my wheelchair out of the subway.
“This is really far from your house, Mrs. Meyers,” he commented. “Where are we going?”
My eyes were hard as I looked on ahead. “To the cemetery.”
***
So, on that night, I followed the warm glow of my red string through the city on my wheelchair, secretly dreading what I would find at the other end. The path was familiar -too familiar- and I could feel my eyes begin to sting. I knew it would come to this.
Officer Bailey looked at me with doubt, but continued on when I nodded at him. I had to face this. I had to.
At last, the string came to an end. A creaking gate mocked me for even trying to escape this past of mine. It was a past of loneliness.
A frozen graveyard lay before me, freezing my soul to the core. I huffed one time in anticipation, watching my breath whiten in the air, and, with difficulty, rolled through the snow and into the cemetery.
The string led Officer Bailey and me through the rows and aisles, like playing Hot and Cold. I was getting warmer, I knew it, but my heart chilled more and more with each creak of my wheelchair.
I finally stopped at the grave. My beautiful red string went through the snow and earth, leading me to the coffin underneath.
I read the words on the grave even though I knew it by heart.
Here lies Henry Meyers
Beloved Husband
“All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.”
Rest in Peace
I read it. Again and again. Over and over. The madness burned my eyes, burned my heart. I cried; I raged.
One stupid drunk driver, one stupid drunk driver! That’s all it takes to ruin a person’s life! Ruin it so horribly and completely that every morning when they wake up they’re cold, when the go to work they always hope to answer the loving calls that never come, when they do something great or horrible they realize there’s nobody that cares either way!
It’s ruined. My life is ruined, ruined, ruined!
I fell out of my wheelchair in a spur of insanity, digging through the heavily packed snow and soil whit not even a pair of gloves to help hold of the cold and pain. I clawed and clawed until my hands grew numb, until my fingernails broke and bled into the earth. I could still see it, the stupid red string that went into the ground, taunting me.
Yes, I knew! Yes, I know! The red string still glows because it hasn’t died. I’m still hopelessly in love with him and he, from somewhere, is still in love with me. I don’t want this, though; I never wanted this! Just do me a favor and break already!
But it stayed deep in the earth, where my hands could never reach. But he stayed high in the heavens, where my heart could never go.
The madness leaked out of me and I collapsed into the snow, unable to lift myself back into the chair. I gazed lovingly at the red string now; it was the only warmth in my life. The snow started falling gently around me as if sympathizing.
Slowly, I smoothed my arms out into white innocence and caressed the snow, moving them up and down and up and down. My bloody hands tainted the snow with red, red, red, but I was beyond caring now. The snow was so cold, this world was so cold, my life was so cold. Soon, a pair of blood red wings embraced my unmoving body, the reward of my efforts.
I chuckled and looked up at the dark sky, wondering where my sun went. The red string beside me glowed with love.
“Hey, I have the wings now. Can I join you up there?”
Officer Bailey came into my field of vision. Apparently he had looked away during my spur of madness. “Mrs. Meyers, I think it’s best if we go. You might catch a cold, and then we won’t be able to meet up with your friends tomorrow.”
A hand was offered to me.
I looked at the string, fighting the urge to touch it. It was fading now, as was my vision of all the other strings that also led to graves. I blinked, and it was all gone. There was nothing now, not even the a sliver of the luminous phenomenon I had grown used to remained. I sighed, realizing that everything was back to normal.
This whole thing was far from a dream, though. If anything, it was a message. Maybe it was something up there’s idea to get me to finally move on. I guess I’ll never know, but I do know one thing: Officer Bailey was nice, but he’d never be the one. The string was not connected to him.
Henry was still locked inside my heart forever, and I wouldn’t ever let him go.
Nevertheless, I smiled gratefully at Officer Bailey’s offered hand and took it. He pulled me up from the coldness and steadied me into my wheelchair, draping his heavy coat over my shoulders. I wrapped it around me, a thoughtful expression on my face.
“This is warm. Thank you.”
***
[The only story I've ever read is one of tragedy. The only story I've ever written is one of hope.]
[But either way, when I read those last words of those tales, I always know there's a happily ever after.]
[Somewhere.]