[NOTE: DO NOT LISTEN TO MEDIA MUSIC BEFORE READING "RAMONA PART TWO" NEAR THE END OF THE BOOK. It is acceptable to read it before everything else, because of how I split the chapters up.
This chapter is supposed to make our baby a little neurotic, depressed mess. Happy reading!]
Dedicated to the many who read the Author's Letter. THANK YOU!
The first one was at a Wammy's Reunion. I don't usually show, but I made an exception this time. They happen yearly, because who doesn't want to chum around with the friends and fiends they spent their entire childhood with? Education, boarding, meals, recreation, religious services, and anything else one may do during their childhood happens within the walls. That doesn't mean they didn't venture outside, they did, and some were chaperoned to sports tournaments, the hospital had the need arise, and field trips. I never went outside until I was adult, purely by choice. Except for a weekend jumping from specialist to quack specialist. That was it.
And I was only a twenty year old man, then- not like I am much older now, but it was a detail.
She had long, black hair that hung to her prim and proper bottom. Her face was more European in structure, lacking the traditional Chinese moon face, but still kept the recognizable eyes. Her name was Dao-Ming, meaning shining path. I learned that piece of trivia after the reunion. She came with Lucas Davis, the CEO of a growing international shipping company (primarily trans-pacific shipping) that started in Astoria, Oregon in the US. It is truly amazing what you hear when you do not speak. In the later hours of the evening, Lucas became a roaring, blushing, drunken fool of himself, and she stormed off, over to me. I could have made a shining path of my own, but I would not allow it. She shouted something in Chinese to Lucas, while crawling on me like a spider.
This attention wasn't so much magnified by my social hermitage, but the lack of information flowing that night allowed her actions to be my only focus at default.
Eventually, she scampered off, arm in arm with him, but gave a dainty wave in my direction.
"Ryuzaki, what are you doing?"
"Hello, Watari."
"Who was that?"
"Dao-Ming."
"Do you know her?"
"No."
I suppose simple trivia has proven the most reliable way to get information from me, truth is easily separated from lies. There is no part truth, or part fib, it is black and white.
The rest of the party flew by. Like a bird. Wild birds, unlike the pigeons that wait and wander the concrete forests. They don't run when I walk near, their gray heads bobbing away at me.
In truth, I had begun to feel as if I was being asphyxiated on my own vomit about a good 35% of my time. Helpless, sick, and choking to death. No one wanted to lay a hand on me. Revolting mess. The feeling of falling and being stuck was all my legs could register as they ached, following the pains I imagined there. Something physical, something to soothe the burn with obvious, describable pain. Recognizable pain.
After people started leaving, I decided to go introduce myself. I've been told to do this on a number of occasions, but, I never have.
I.
Didn't.
Know.
What.
To.
Say.
Her eyes flashed surprise, but turned as if she was looking at a decomposing carcass.
She was looking at me.
She left, following the two drunken men carting her even more incapacitated boyfriend out the door.
Watari was driving me, and was my only way back to Japan to run some errands before we would inevitably come back a week later.
I should have been utterly thankful for his presence. At the time, I was becoming severely unfocused and even more confused. I used to become so upset, but couldn't voice it. And, it frightened me to know that I was helpless. I was being destroyed.
"Are you ready to leave, Ryuzaki?"
"Yes... I am."
The car ride to the airport in London felt brief, but not brief enough for someone to not pull out in front of us, force Watari, to slam on the breaks, and prove my balance to be unmatched against the laws of motion and energy.
"Ryuzaki! Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
We arrived at the airport terminal a touch behind, but not enough to panic. We boarded priority, and sat first class. Then takeoff. Then the noise again.
Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.Ihateplanes.
Even though I travelled frequently, I hated going on planes. The sensation- the very sensation- was nothing short of disgusting to my senses. I hated them more and more frequently then, my fervent hate multiplying and the crippling uncertainty clapping a hand over my nose and my mouth.
"Ryuzaki?"
"Y-Yes?"
"Is something wrong?"
"No... Everything is fine."
Moving my jaw up and down, flipping my tongue to form the syllables, like a puppet in the hands of a child.
"Are you sure? You-"
"Yes, Watari, I'm fine."
"When was the last time you slept?"
"..."
I didn't truly ever sleep. I just found myself sitting still and not thinking for once, eyes open. If it was more than an hour, my mouth would fall open into a shocked expression. That was sleeping.
"You know what I mean."
"I don't know."
It had not happened for a while, to my memory.
"I think you need to see Dr. Shiviak."
"No, I'm fine, Watari."
"No need to snap. She might be able to help-"
"No. Watari, I am fine ."
He left me alone. I hated flying so much. I despised it...
"Ryuzaki?"
I didn't know how much time had passed. I forgot what I had been doing, if I was doing anything at all. It's like speaking into a microphone that isn't recording.
"Ryuzaki..."
I was shaking, a whine was leaving my throat and making it feel dry, and there were warm drops of saline trailing down my face. I don't remember coming to that state, but I remember being.
Suddenly, it was even harder to speak, the hand feeling out every detail in my face, inadvertently holding it shut.
"Y-Yes?"
"I think you might need to see Dr. Thompson, too."
"Please...please no..."
Why was I so afraid of him? He was only a psychiatrist. I had been told multiple times he was going to help me. He was going to help me.
Have you ever done something, but not known why? Of course you have. Phrases like that can entice subliminal feelings of relation. I truly couldn't have cared less, so either my mind was fooling me, or I WAS afraid of him, but didn't register it.
He wrapped a blanket around me to hopefully stop my trembling, and then just watched and waited for something, but nothing changed. I couldn't sleep