(hi tysm for readin', tap that friendly lil star as it is lonely. jkjk, but enjoy if u will)
autophobia (n.)
au·to·pho·bia
The fear of being isolated, lonely, or alone.
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The last time I saw my grandmother, I had to meet her for the first time.
She had been riddled with dementia by then, along with other cryptic illnesses I didn't know the terms of, and had been relegated to lie in a hospital room with nothing but the outside sky and the shift nurses to keep her mind alive. That and my mother.
I never knew how often she visited, what with going between her own family and her job. I only ever knew that she visited alone, and only at times where I wasn't there to ask.
Then, one day in late afternoon, my mother came into my room and said, "Get dressed."
I frowned from my place at the foot of my bed, algebra homework sprawled out over my legs, the fading sunlight soaking into my carpet. My mother stood stiff, bag over her shoulder, eyes unreadable.
"Why?" I asked.
"We're going to see halmoni," she said.
I burst from my bed and got dressed faster than I'd ever managed in my life. It'd been almost a year since I'd seen her in person. I wasn't about to miss the chance.
The drive to Greenheart was too slow and tedious for my tastes, my body twitching in anticipation as we pulled into the parking lot. My mother tugged me along beside her, barely attentive to my questions. She walked like walking to a guillotine.
"Room 17, third floor," the lady said.
17
I stared at the ajar door. My mother pushed it open and welcomed me to my grandmother.
"Umma," she called. "Na wasseo. Seohyun-ah wasseo."
I turned and looked.
My grandmother lied under white sheets, in a blue gown, with stone eyes and hands that didn't move, hair grayed by time and skin tired of the world's weight. She stared at me and my mother, but she didn't seem to see us. The only sign of life was the beep of the machines and the occasional rise of her chest.
It's a strange thing to see someone you know, but who doesn't know you. Like a one-sided conversation, but it isn't that they're ignoring you, you've simply hit the mute button without a way to undo it.
Undo
Unmake
My mother acted as usual, talking to her mom and cleaning up the earlier day's half-eaten lunch. She checked the bags of liquid, the screens adjacent to her, the pillows propping her up, the covers hiding her legs. She scanned the board detailing her name and language and doctor. She smiled and asked how the lunch was.
My halmoni said nothing back.
Mute
Who hit it first?
She regarded that with pursed lips and a fissure splitting her face. In efforts to patch it up, she ushered me to my grandmother's side. "Umma," she had said. "Seohyun-ah wasseo. Seohyun-ah ala?"
She didn't move. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
What do you know?
"Halmoni," I said, finding my voice. "Na wasseo."
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Suicide Buddies
Novela Juvenil"My mother once told me there are three, and only three, truly defining moments in your life. One: When you don't know. Two: When you realize you don't know. Three: When you know. This is about the third one." --- Angel Young is going to die. Or at...
