Her response to him at the time had been a kind of silent shriek, her face twisted for just an instant into a mask of horror, and a flight reflex. Her mother took her hand and moved her away quickly. When she glanced back over her shoulder his head lolled and she was almost sure that he looked at her. If he was angry or sad his strange, malformed face did not betray it. Her mother was talking at her about something, trying to fill her mind with other things, but she was lost in that boy, her young mind racing from horror to horror.
Some people believe the soul can leave the body, leave and wander the streets, invisible. Of course, some people don’t believe in the soul. Some people believe that everything you are is contained in your body machine, levers and joints and chemical emotions. Spirits don’t hang out at biology class, though. Souls congregate with the mad people, drinking and laughing and dancing. Spirits hang around the edges of poetry readings and jazz sessions. You can see them, sometimes, in the swirl of smoke under the dim lights. They growl at you through saxophones. They moan at you through blues. They whisper, “Never goin’ back, no no. Never goin’ back to that bag o’ bones.” Somewhere, in a hospital room that stinks of clean, the body breathes in and out. In and out.
He tries to grab for her shoulder to hold on, but he accidentally hits her pretty hard in the jaw. He cannot help it. His arms don’t work properly. “Oops!” she laughs, the smile in her voice more beautiful than anything else he’s ever seen. He would be a bit taller than her if you could straighten him out, but she’s strong. She does this every day. She lifts him from his chair and maneuvers him onto the bench in the shower. He has made a mess of himself again, but she doesn’t mind helping him, cleaning him up. He cannot help it. And she loves him. She loves all these people here in this place. She’s the best nurse they have. Years ago, as a little girl, through horror and shock at an unexpected encounter with a twisted, broken boy, she had arrived at the truth that shaped her life. “He’s a boy,” she said to her mother. “Inside there, he’s just a boy.”
Hello, friends. I hope you’re well.
Later. Love.
