Chapter VII: The Rinsing of the Palms
A faulty day arrived where responsibilities sank relationships. Cecilia began noticing Colette's behavior. Colette had been imagining her and mishearing voices since the death of her child, wishing for things that could never happen, wanting it so deeply that she would rather live in her own imagination than society.
The thought of Cecilia led her down a path of spiraling despair. She did not know how to control herself.
"Cecilia, Cecilia. Where did you go? I want to carry you."
She talked to herself in the mirror like a mad woman, crying in her own eyes, alone with no idea of what love could ever be for no one understood what love could be. People made theories, and she only kept searching for that feeling of true love without joy with no fear with a struggle for the light.
Am I alone? Why did I do this to myself? Why? Did he drug me again? Is he here? Why do I keep hallucinating my child.
Colette had hallucinated the interactions of heaven and hell, creating a new image for her child and the demon Aunali, hoping that she was visible, fearing for the invisible.
Never facing her fears, she relied on Walter in her new desire. She had met Walter on the streets of Valencia. He lied to her constantly to make her feel better and to eventually sleep near her.
Cecilia had died due to heart failure. The stem cell experiment did not entirely process through. The immune system carried an extreme iron deficiency leading to the failure. Though these tragedies exist, it was not something that Colette could have believed. She was sent to the mental hospital. She woke up staring at the off beige written walls of people who were forced to be insane in society, leaving her to wonder if society was good or evil. It was both.
"Cecilia," she cried to herself. The hospital had placed cameras in her room, a new tactic of control.
"Colette." The nurse stated in the bleak room. "Colette." The worker repeated herself.
"Yes." Colette had red eyes that were filled with tears.
"Do you know why you are here?"
"It was my fault that my daughter had passed away."
"No."
The silence overwhelmed the room, making it bleaker and bleaker by the minute.
The nurse looked irritated. "You had amphetamine in your system."
"What?" Colette sniveled. "What do you mean?"
The nurse rolled her eyes.
"I am only here because my daughter had died." Colette waited for a response. "Aren't you going to help me?"
The moment I leave this hellhole, I am going abroad.
"You are here because of the amphetamine and ketamine in your system. I am sorry for the loss of your child, but you should not have children due to your actions." The nurse stated with brutal honesty.
"What do you mean? I never took that drug." Colette worried anxiously. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Colette, here is your medication." The nurse had told her in the hospital, standing in her room.
The hospital was located in Los Angeles. Colette had no recollection of time or people. She had forgotten everything that had happened while imagining the birth of her child and the scenarios in her head, introducing the child to her family, leaving the country. But, there was always a man in her life taking advantage of her.
"How do you feel Colette?" The nurse asked for her notes.
"I feel nothing."
Colette panicked. "Where is my daughter?! Where is my daughter?" She screamed in the room with one bed and one nightstand.
Another nurse entered the room and whispered to the other, "We need to inject her."
They took the needle out and chained Colette to the bed, injecting her with a tranquilizer against her will.
Colette remembered that she could not sob in the hospital as if it were illegal. Crying was seen as an unstable emotion. The medical staff were robots only containing apathy towards the suffering.
She held her tears back as she dozed into a dream. Her sleep was dark until the familiar old man appeared in her dreams.
"Colette, I've been trying to reach you. I am your grandfather."
"Why did my baby die?"
"Raphael had been drugging you."
"What do you mean? He is the love of my life."
"Colette. Politicians, lawyers, agents, they are not like us regular folk. They derive in evil - they look to take over the world for they are not satisfied with their own egos."
He pulled up a chair in her tranceful dream.
"Listen to me. Do not tell anyone that I have told you this. You need to run away from him, and big things in your life will happen. You will gain that success and independence that you have always desired." He stared at her with kindness.
"You are intelligent. You are beautiful, Colette. You need to leave Raphael at once. Do you understand?"
Colette nodded and woke up with the doctor by her bedside.
She was afraid that the doctor was Raphael. Her paranoia grew heedlessly.
"Colette, right." He had a soft smile.
"Yes, that is me." She stated.
"I understand that your child has passed." The doctor paused. "Tell me more about what happened."
She told the doctor everything from her time in various mental hospitals due to Raphael's inconspicuous disappearances and her mother's lack of trust of faith in her daughter.
"Have you been abusing ketamine and meth?"
"No, absolutely not."
"Who do you spend the most time with?" He wrote his notes down on a clipboard.
"Why are you asking me this?"
"To get to know you Colette, the real Colette." He smiled so happily which was a weird occurrence since Colette never had received special treatment prior.
"I love your hit song Colette."
"What hit song?" She questioned in despair.
"Who will know?"
"I only recorded it a week ago. What do you mean?"
"You don't know? Huh. Well you're a new celebrity, Colette."
"Well, I spend time with Walter, my writing partner." She responded wanting to give up and run away. Nothing mattered anymore. Her child was gone once again. The aching of death betrayed her. The doctor paused and thought for a moment. She was not an A list celebrity. The doctor realized that she was a regular woman.
"He may be a bad influence."
"No, it was my previous partner, Raphael drugging me."
The doctor lost his trust in Colette. She was not popular enough to be respected. He wanted to overpower her like how all people of authority had done.
"Who is he?"
"A CIA agent."
"You really think that he would be drugging you, a professional in the government. He could lose his license."
Colette began crying severely. "Yes, and I was too afraid to tell anyone because no one would have believed me."
"It may be the tranquilizer." He muttered to himself. Colette heard him, but she knew that she had to abide like a slave to his response. She said nothing.
"How do you feel on a scale of one to ten?" Clearly, she was at zero.
"Ten."
He sighed. "We will be looking to get you out in a couple of days."
"Thank you." She said profusely.
Colette spent her days in the bleak, solid bed, pretending to sleep as the nurses checked up on her. She was released in three days.
There were photographers everywhere outside the hospital in Los Angeles. Her producer covered the cost.
When did this happen? How many drugs did I take? Why am I in LA?
"Colette! Colette! What happened?" The photographers yelled across the street. "Colette, you're a star!" "Smile, beautiful!" They said as she walked to a car with the chauffeur holding a sign with her name on it by a black Cadillac limo.
"So, I'm a celebrity." Colette asked the driver.
"Yes, you are." He smiled happily.
Is it him? Stop. I can't think that everyone is him. Even though people can wear masks in the secret service. I can't let it get to my head.
Colette started screaming with glee, a rush of laughter entering her stomach, euphoria - she reached it. This time it was brilliant light, a stretch of a rainbow, a dream.
So, Colette began singing her heart out. The driver stopped the car.
What's going on?
The driver stared at her in awe. His mouth dropped to the floor.
"That's your voice? Just, I'm so sorry. It's incredible. I need... I need your signature please. I'm so sorry for being unprofessional."
"Don't sweat it!" Colette said, smiling from ear to ear.
Handing the autograph, she then got into the limo. Raphael was sitting there directly in front of her with no concern of the past, just happy to see her again.
"Why? Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Drug me."
"I don't know."
"Don't do it again please." She did not know what else to say.
I was forced to. Raphael thought to himself. I was forced to. He fought back the tears. He knew that if he said those words. He wouldn't know if Colette would believe him or not.
Awe. Awe filled her lungs like a fire unable to extinguish in the hopes of sorrow.
Regardless of the tell tales that she had lived, she had loved him. She accepted him and felt peace, the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful all around, understanding the yin yang of life, but fighting with all of her might for that slight good.
There was no sign of remorse or hopelessness for Colette for she knew. They were intertwined as two souls, and those two souls understood each other through thick and thin.
When looking at his face, she recognized the good in Raphael, the reason that she always stayed. It was there. It was a twisting thunderstorm in the despair of the eyes of her soulmate, the despair that he had possessed. Colette knew that it was not his fault.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked with sincere eyes.
"I couldn't tell you. You could have been killed." He said seriously.
Colette thought to herself.
Is he telling the truth? He is. Why am I doubting him? It's not right to doubt.
Since he was, in conspiracy, many different people entering in Colette's life, she was utterly confused as to whether she had been hallucinating or if he had really used masks or changed his identity when seeing her.
"Listen, Colette. I time travel. It's part of the CIA. I couldn't tell you at first, and I can't really tell you right now, but I had to. You deserve to know."
Her jaw dropped.
"You figured out my disguises over time. It was always me following you, making sure that you were safe for being associated with me. My genes were changing when time traveling to different historical conditions."
"I knew it." She stated. "Can you stop drugging me? What was the point of that?" Colette was calm in a nerve wracking situation.
"Colette, I'm a double agent." He blurted out. Why did I say that? Raphael thought to himself. She should know that I work for Great Britain, but is it safe?
"What does that even have to do with drugging me?" "Why do you keep following me?"
"I can't help it." He broke down crying.
"I can't tell you the details just yet..."
He looked away insecurely.
"Yes, you can. You told me everything before. You can tell me this one thing, Raphael. Why are you drugging me?" She said with no emotion on her face.
"The CIA made me. They knew that you knew the secrets of the CIA. And, they told me that I had to drug you or else we would both be taken away." He gulped. "They think that this drug cured everything and that you do not remember the past. It was altered so that you can forget moments in the past. This is why you may feel confused at times." He argued.
"But, I have an idea. We can pretend that you are taking the drugs."
"No, Rapahel. I do not want to be a part of this any longer." She did not cry - triumph was in her name.
"Colette, I can't live without you."
"Raphael. I need you to leave. I need some time alone."
"What do you mean?" He said with tears in his eyes. Jealousy crept in like a mouse.
I made her. Without me, she would never appear to be the way she was. Wait. I didn't make her, only God did. Raphael thought to himself.
"I'll drop you off where you need to go." They parted ways in silence. Yet, Colette knew that this wasn't the end - she just wanted some time to be alone.
How can you justify drugging someone by law? It's unformidable. It's preposterous! I must write.
She found a notebook lying down on the floor. Raphael must have forgotten it.
She opened it, and she read:
Rebirth redefining me
What is it worth?
The moment I hold you dearly
Is the moment you tell me you wear
Then and then again until you may
Remember
Remember the days of lifelong longevity
Lifelong shootings and missiles in the sky
As we counted stars and yearned for freedom
But you run for me to catch your breath
How much longer do you need to fly?
How much longer do you need to cry?
I am here in the flesh
When I'm here you leave, but you don't know where you're going
From planes to trains, you find me again
And I always accept you with my pride,
Yet pride turns into dust in your eyes
Colette saw the poem and ripped it out of the page and placed it in her pocket.
Wow. That was a lot. I needed to be alone to think. How could he love being a spy after all this time? But, maybe he has no choice. We are limited in this life Angel or human - we can never be God.
Colette told the limo driver to drive further down to a real estate agent. Living in LA was going to be one whirlwind of a rollercoaster. She had things to do, songs to write, but there was nothing truly inspiring from the weakness of society from homelessness with hookup culture - there was no love on these streets, the city of the fallen angels.
After a few viewings of several apartments, she decided to return to Europe. She was never known as a mentally ill person in Europe - it was her home.
She flew back the next morning to Barcelona after staying at the Ritz Carlton, hosted by a small singer, Alyson Clark. Clark invited Colette just to meet her - she attended only to stay for the night.
Characters were giving her hugs, complimenting her song, but it didn't feel like real effort - Colette still felt like a nobody in the room full of people. She wanted to break free from it all by changing her style, her persona.
The next morning, she bought a ticket to Barcelona. With the real estate agents there, she practiced her Spanish and gained a property from the money she made in advertisement. She was wise with her spending and bought a studio apartment.
Alyson Clark had been texting her, "Where did you go???" Colette ignored it, wanting to spend her time wisely. She needed a new band, a new image, so much to do, yet so little to know.
Inside her new studio, she had 500 square feet of luxury, a kind of luxury that was meant for her, a luxury that existed for the faint of heart and the minimalist. She became a minimalist for a couple weeks until she bought art supplies and old books to store everywhere. Handling one hobby after another, but making music was her only will. Whatever it was in her to make a change she always went back to singing like a bumblebee to a flower or a swan to the water.
Peering outside her window, she sees her neighbor each morning getting dressed for the morning.
Ugh why doesn't he ever close the blinds? Do the Spaniards even own blinds?
Who was he? She stared at him one morning, gawking at him.
Most men are trouble. I shouldn't go that way.
A piano was brought to her apartment by the moving man. He did not say a word, only a simple, "gracias" as he exited the doors playing recklessly - she needed some guidance.
The melodies flew through her fingers like lightning bolts, she began to sing,
And daunder,
I felt longer and longer
In your arms
Through the twilights
She raised her volume.
And the heartaches
I know...
She stopped herself. Colette was beginning to scream. "That's it." She said aloud to herself. "I need to become a scream artist."
She yelled and yelled in fury not caring what the neighbors had to say. The passion in her screams become envious beltings.
Lies and lies fall apart,
Showing my heart,
And all I see
Are those reckless starts
When I tell you the truth,
When I want to hear your fruit,
I notice the lies from the aches of the
Flowers
All disappearing for hours
A shipwreck
Trying to flee the indulgence of what
We need
The neighbor stared at her, and she recognized him. It was Walter.
What if he is Raphael? He could be following me. No, they have a different character. Raphael would never make music.
Then, he disappeared into his lonely yet lovely apartment.
"Ugh, weirdo." She said to herself again. Throughout her time of becoming a sensation, Walter felt out of place due to the lack of credit. Perhaps, he was following her, or it was just her imagination.
Colette banged C and G chords repeatedly on the piano, trying to find something in those simple chords. She mourned her daughter's death. She could not breathe properly. It was a repeating nightmare that yearned for a daydream.
from the feelings of ecstasies to delinquencies, she fell down to the floor sobbing. Where were those special moments with Raphael? "I loved him." She screamed.
There was a knock at the door. Quickly, they made love.