Autumn has arrived. Despite the leaves changing to red and yellow shades, painting a mesmerizing mixture against the blue sky, the grass stays green.
With a nearly blank sketchbook on my lap, I pull my blanket closer to my torso when a nurse announces her arrival.
"Alright. It's time to get you back inside. It's getting cold here, and you've had enough sun for today," she says gently, adjusting my velvet blanket and unlocking my wheelchair. I clutch my drawing book when she starts pushing me to the building. "This is the last day you can stay outside and enjoy the blue sky. The weather won't be this friendly tomorrow."
Even though I rarely reply to the nurses, I listen to every word they say, and I suppose they are used to my silence. They must have applied for this job knowing that some patients don't talk, or don't want to talk.
"Have you drawn something today, Gretta? You haven't shown me anything."
I shake my head. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. You sketch when you feel like it. No need to feel sorry." We reach my room, and the door is already wide open to welcome me. "But you know that I'm a fan of your drawing. I still can't get over the flying angel you drew last week. It was such a masterpiece."
I force myself to smile and mumble, "Thank you."
My mind jumps back to a faceless angel that never leaves my thoughts. Some nights, I dreamed about it but it was different. It felt distant and foreign, causing me to wake up with disappointment in the morning. Sometimes its hair changed to a different shade and it had a face; a face I didn't recognize. Then I knew it was not the same angel I longed to meet again.
A knock on my open door pulls me out of my wandering mind. When I turn my head, a young nurse who just started a week ago is standing by the door.
"You have a visitor, Gretta," she says.
"Who is it?" the older nurse who is now adjusting my window blinds asks.
The young nurse glances at the piece of paper in her hand. "Mary Campbell."
The other nurse sighs. "Why do people always come at the last minute? What's wrong with being punctual these days?"
"I'll go meet her, if I'm allowed," I say.
"Yes, of course, dear."
The visitors' room is as plain as my room. Everything is painted white and blue, even the flower pattern on the floor tiles. At least it has windows that allow us to see colors from trees and the sky. Tables are arranged into two rows, reminding me of the church pews in my hometown, or the desks in my classroom back when I still attended school. Among the occupied tables, my eyes fall on the pale and skinny girl on the corner. She smiles at me awkwardly when our eyes meet.
"Hi," Mary says when the young nurse positions my wheelchair in front of her, an empty table between us.
"You're okay here?" asks the nurse. When I nod, she locks my wheel. "I will be back in five minutes or so. But Nurse Gwen is there by the door if you need anything."
Once the nurse is out of my sight, I avert my eyes to Mary. This is the third time she visited me since I was admitted to this psychiatric hospital two months ago, more than my own father did. He only sends Lydia every Friday to check on me, and to make sure I have everything I need. However, Mary never left the island. After the incident in her shed that morning, things began to unravel.
Father learned about his wife's evil plans for me, and he divorced her when she was still lying in a hospital, depending on the machine to live. Hilda got blacklisted from a business community and was asked to leave the island immediately. As a result, the Campbells were freed from fear and debt.
Despite all the scandals, no legal actions were taken and no news was out in public, thanks to my father's power.
"How are you?" I ask.
"I'm fine. And you look good too. You have that rosy color on your cheek now."
I brush my cheek and smile. "I was staying a bit too long in the back verandah."
"Ah, I see." Mary nods. "I came to see your father yesterday at his office. Thank you for recommending me for the position, otherwise, I would stay jobless."
I've learned that the Golden Thrill which was owned by Hilda is now closed until further notice. To show my gratitude for revealing the truth to me, I asked Father to give her a job so that she still can provide for her family. "No problem. How's my father doing?"
Mary shrugs. "He's lost weight, though. Lydia said he often skipped meals and hid in his room when he was home. But other than that, he's alright." Mary sounds a bit hesitant when she asks, "Has he been visiting you lately?"
"He came last month. Maybe he will come to see me this weekend." Father had always been distant before the incident, but now he's even deeper in his cave and gradually becoming a stranger to me. Lydia said the incident hit him hard and he needed time to recover.
Mary nods, shifting uncomfortably on her seat. "How's your leg?"
"It's healing," I reply, glancing down at my right leg, "but it will take a while until I can walk again."
"Ah. Well, it's progressing. That's what matters. By the way, I" —she fiddles with her own fingers— "came with Damien today, but we're not sure if you wanted to see him. He's going abroad for his Magister program next week, and hoping that he can say goodbye to you personally."
I heave a sigh. Seeing Damien still brings certain anxiety to me, but this time I understand why. He reminds me of how intimate we were without me remembering any of it. He also reminds me of Lola and my mixed feelings toward her: guilt, resentment, and longing. But most of all, he knows someone I don't. He knows the fearless Gretta who fought her family to stand for her rights. The other Gretta who values her existence more than anything. The other me.
My doctors still don't know about the weird occurrence during the incident. They're still unaware that I don't remember charging at Patricia and stabbing her chest when she was about to shoot Damien. As a result, she accidentally shot my leg. My doctors also still don't know that I mysteriously skipped three days before the bloody morning took place. My family lawyer gave me the script of what I needed to say, and I did as I was told.
"Gretta?"
I blink, realizing that I'm still in the visitors' room with Mary. "Send him in."
Five minutes later, the dark-haired guy is standing in front of me, looking slightly nervous but he manages to smile at me. He looks noticeably thinner, and the dark shadows under his eyes are evidence of his sleepless nights. He smells like cigarettes, mixed with an aftershave scent.
"Thank you for having me, Gretta," he says before carefully sitting down on his seat. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you. And how are you holding up, Damien?"
He smiles again. "Not bad."
"You're leaving for school soon?"
"Yes. And it's a thousand miles from here. I thought it would do me good, leaving this all behind and starting fresh, you know," he says before shaking his head and sighing. "I mean, not you. You're not one of those I want to leave behind. I mean–"
"I know what you mean." And I do what the other Gretta would do. I extend my hand, resting it on his hand, and give him a gentle squeeze. "Good luck, Damien."
He freezes as his eyes are fixed on our joint hands. Slowly, he turns his hand, palm facing up, and wraps his hand around mine. "You're not afraid of me anymore?"
"I never am."
He smiles a little too wide this time. "I'm glad," he says. "That night, we smoked, talked, kissed, cuddled, talked again, then we cuddled until we fell asleep. I will always remember that moment, Gretta. I hope you, too, will always keep it in your memory."
"I will." I would have panicked if I heard this two months ago. But I'm safe here now; there is nothing to be afraid of. It's when we hear the grandfather clock on the corner of the room ding three times. "The visiting hour has ended. Goodbye, Damien, and good luck."
He brings my hand to his lips and gently gives it a peck, forcing me to suppress the uneasiness in my gut because of the intimate gesture. But he can't know. I'm Gretta who remembers everything in front of him right now. I'm Gretta who lives her life as a whole.
"Goodbye, Gretta. I hope we bump into each other again someday."
I respond with a smile while watching him untangle our hands before he stands up. Once he disappears behind the door, I straighten my torso to sit upright, ready to be taken back to my room.
Autumn has arrived. Despite the leaves changing to red and yellow shades, and trees beginning to lose their crowns, the grass stays green.
The new chapter of my life has arrived. Despite everyone leaving me behind with the unanswered questions about my past, and my vivid life now changing into predicted, scheduled, and soulless days, the other Gretta stays.
It's becoming my little secret. No one has to know about the other Greta in me. I haven't even met her yet, but I know she did everything in her power to protect me. We are inseparable now. Because we are us.
*** END***