Spoken: Part II

I felt quite ill this morning. The new medication I was on was having an adverse effect on my stomach. I laid in my bed staring at my ceiling. There were brown nicotine stains around the dim light in the middle.

I stood up and walked out of my room. I turned left and wandered slowly down the corridor, brushing my hand along the wall. The walls were a pale, placid blue. There were a few people shifting around, men, women, aimlessly wandering, like apparitions out of the corner of my eye. I opened the door to the garden and walked out. It was winter, and the grass was crunchy below my feet.

"Don't go too far now!" Nurse Norton chimed as I walked away.

I turned and smiled at her, then continued down the hill towards the lake.

A figure was sat on the edge of the lake. He was using a makeshift rod to try and catch fish. He wore a white long sleeve shirt and loose white trousers. He had cropped black hair, with flecks of grey scattered across his scalp.

I did the buttons on my cardigan up and approached him.

"Ms. Fox, afternoon." He said calmly, admiring the winter sun's reflection in the lake.

"Hi." I said. "How's it going?"

"Ah, very well Ms. Fox. How else could I be with a view like this?"

"Spose." I said, sitting next to him on the cold ground.

"'Spose'? My love, just look. The midday sun's hitting the lake in the most perfect way. It's brisk, bracing... This is surely what life's about, no?"

"Please, Raphael. I don't think shiny water and prickly cold weather constitutes as the purpose of life."

"You don't understand." He smiled. "It's not about what it is- the lake, the sun, the weather, whatever it may be, it's about living for beauty. It could be the most gorgeous summer's day, in the middle of a field of Lavender, and I would say the exact same thing. You have to learn to appreciate why this earth is so painfully and exquisitely pulchritudinous..."

"Pulchritudinous?"

"Alluring, Ms. Fox. Charming, graceful, magnificent-"

"Pretentious?"

Raphael grinned at me. "Perhaps. Still though, Ms. Fox, you must learn that without knowing the world's beauty, whether it's in the nature or the person, you do not know happiness."

"I haven't known happiness in a good long while, you know that."

"Because you don't let yourself, Ms. Fox. You're too content with being miserable."

I look across at the lake. Tiny waves tumbled across my vision, occasionally being blurred by the gleam. A willow tree in the distance wept into the water, delicately laying its branches atop the wash.

"Maybe." I said. Raphael smiled again.

"'Maybe' she says. Lord in Heaven. Nothing's ever as bad as you think it is, Ms. Fox." Raphael said, setting down his fishing rod. "Never."

I stood up and brushed myself down. My breath was caught in the air as I hugged my shoulders.

"It's a bit chilly, I think I'll go back indoors." I said.

"Of course, my love. Take care. Don't forget..." Raphael said encouragingly.

I walked back towards the house, Nurse Norton was visible in the window helping someone into their wheelchair. I pushed my hands into my pockets and looked at the floor. I thought about what Raphael said, about admiring the world's beauty, about nothing being as bad as as it seems. It was horribly difficult to believe him. I edged back into the house quietly, and returned to my room. I sat on my bed and looked at my wrists, now just a clutter of scars. They were all so red and embossed, I barely remembered how they even got there in the first place. I was 18 year old girl, sat in a mental home filled with lunatics and deranged reprobates and docile vegetables, staring at my wrists wondering how they became such a dented mess. Raphael was comforting, but God was he so wrong.

The next morning the lake froze over. I went to see Raphael but he wasn't there. He loved to fish, he'd spend hours sat by the lake, watching the water, waiting for something to bite. Now that ice had encompassed it, there was nothing there for him.

I waited for it to melt before venturing out to see him again. He still wasn't there.

I suppose he was done with me. He had nothing more to give. In many ways, I was done with him too.