Candor

Candor


“I once knew a girl who never sneezed.”

The passenger sitting next to me was a tall thin man, probably in his late fifties. He had a longish nose and sharp chin. He was tan and wore a short sleeves blue shirt and jeans. We were flying from Singapore to Bangkok.

It was an abrupt start to our conversation but my interest was piqued.

“What do you mean by she never sneezed?” I asked.
“Well, she never sneezed.”
“Not ever?” I asked.
“Not ever.” he said. “She never noticed that there was anything wrong with her until she was about eighteen or so. She was spending the night at a friend’s house and her friend’s mom was having a terrible time with allergies, so she was sneezing a lot. The girl stood there transfixed, and couldn’t take her eyes off her friend’s mom.

“But surely, she had seen other people sneeze before? It obviously wouldn’t have been her first time?” I said.

“Of course, she had. But you know how sometimes you look at something a thousand times but you don’t really notice it until the moment you actually do? And then you have this big insight into things, like you knew it all along but never actually realized it.”

“You mean like an epiphany?” I asked.

“Similar, but not quite. Anyway, she looked at her friend’s mom and then it occurred to her that she, a girl of eighteen, had never had a basic experience like sneezing before. It was quite a shock to her system, and so without another word, she walked out the door and walked for a long time in a trance. What she was thinking about and what she felt, no one could say and she never told anyone. Before she knew it she had walked for miles and found herself on the side of a highway where, probably, the loud noise of cars and trucks whizzing by snapped her out of her thoughts.”

The stewardess came by with the drinks cart.

I asked for a gin and tonic. She took out a plastic bottle of gin, filled a glass with some ice cubes, a slice of lemon and handed it to me along with a can of tonic water.

“And for you sir?” she asked my next seat neighbor.
“Just a cup of plain ice please” he said.
“Some water with the ice?”
“No, just the ice, thanks.”

I looked out the window. It was a short two hour flight and the plane was flying smoothly through a space between two layers of clouds. The ones below were cotton strips peeled from a bale, strewn carelessly over the ocean far below. The evening sun lit their rims, giving off a silvery gold hue. Above us another layer, dense and dark, a ceiling keeping us from hurtling into the emptiness beyond. I mixed my drink and twirled it with my plastic stirrer. There was some activity next to me and I stole a sideways glance. The man was stretching out his long legs and reaching into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a small bottle of Tabasco and sprinkled it freely on his cup of ice. He then sipped his drink, closed his eyes, a content smile on his lips.

“Was she ok? Did she get home?” I asked, feeling concerned for this girl I had never met.

“Oh yes, she was quite smart you see and once she came to, she managed to hitch a ride back.”
He sighed and pressed the button on his armrest leaning his seat back.

“I still remember the first time I met her.” he said. “I was in my early twenties and I worked in this record store. It specialized in jazz and blues tunes. I was a great fan of this type of music and while most of my friends were listening to the latest chart topping hits, I was spending my allowance on Dizzy Gillispie, Coltrane and Robert Johnson. When I got into college, I got a job where I could listen to some good music and make some pocket money too.”

“Sounds perfect.” I said.
“Yes, it was real nice.”

He took a sip of his iced tabasco and closed his eyes.

“Well?” I prompted.

“Oh, sorry, I drifted for a moment…anyway, one day this girl comes in. She has on this white shirt and brown corduroys. Shoulder length hair and glasses. I could tell right away that she was very attractive but enjoyed hiding behind her glasses.”

“How would one enjoy hiding behind their glasses?” I asked.

“Oh but there are some people who love doing that. They sort of feel that they can observe without being observed. Like they are watching a movie or something and their glasses are like the screen. They have the option of interacting with the characters if they feel like it and if not they can just retreat and go back to their designated role as the observer.”

“I see” I said, not really seeing but i wanted to hear more of this story.

“She came in and asked my help and recommendations on jazz music that she wanted to pick up for a school project she was doing. I was pleased to show her my favorites and pretty soon we got to talking. Turned out she was planning to go to the same college I was in. We had a nice conversation and when I asked for her phone number she didn’t hesitate. We went out for a few months and got along really well.”

He became silent again and I debated whether to prod him on or just wait for him to come out of his reverie which seemed to be something he did on a frequent basis. I decided to wait until after lunch was served. He did not eat, and instead asked for another cup of ice. When I had finally finished my ‘baked snapper in sweet and sour sauce’ and was on my second cup of coffee, I could stand it no more.


“So when did she tell you about her sneezing issue?” I asked.
The man turned and looked at me for a few seconds.
“After we had been going out for about six months, I decided that I should level with her and tell her about myself. We were sitting at this café, a place we regularly met before we went out on our date.

‘I have something to tell you’ I said
‘And I have something to tell you’ she said
‘Well, ladies first’ I said, and so she proceeded to tell me her story. I looked down at the napkin and was silent for a while after she finished trying to digest what she had said. When I looked up I was surprised to see that she was sobbing. She was so quiet that I did not notice it till I looked at her.
‘I did not want to tell you. I was afraid that you might think I was a freak or something. And I can now see that it’s exactly what you think. If you want to break up with me, I will understand.’
‘So is it that big a deal?’ I asked her. ‘I mean I think it is pretty convenient not having to sneeze. All around the world there are people who have all kinds of allergies and colds, the flu and what not. They would love to have this gift.’
‘How can you be so insensitive?’ she said to me. ‘What if it was something else? like smiling? Or crying? Would you be more sympathetic then?’
‘It’s not that I’m not sympathetic….I’m just thinking that it would be nice never to have a cold or to feel tired after sneezing for a week trying to recover from one.’
‘Oh I feel sick all right. I get the cold and I feel tired and everything. But there is no release or relief because I cannot sneeze. It’s like an itch that I cannot get to, which you must admit can be quite distressing.’
She was not crying now and seemed a little tired.
‘Anyway, so what is it that you need to talk to me about?’
‘Nothing, really’ I said. ‘Nothing that important.’

The pilot was announcing our landing just then. My heart started to beat faster. I felt a little wave of anxiety, maybe it was because I thought that I would never be able to hear the end of his story.

He again stared at me with that strange look that I had come to be familiar with over the two hours of the flight. This time however, I felt a shiver go down my spine. Something told me that I should not ask any more questions.
“You know when you’re walking along minding your own business and suddenly this tune pops into your head? It comes unbidden and stays there like it’s been there all along? You continue your daily routine and your work and talk and act normal and all along this tune just plays like some background music to the story of your life?”
I couldn’t talk and felt a tightness in my chest
“And then you can stand it no more and want to get rid of it but it just refuses to go away?” he said getting a little animated as he spoke.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Well, I am that tune”
I looked at him my eyes wide.
“I am that tune. I make this happen in people and I live in their minds and in their heads until I feel like I’ve had enough. I use that time to scan their brains from the inside out. It is the best way you know. Once I’ve mapped their brain, I take it with me and move on to the next person.”

“Why?” I managed to croak. “Why would you do something like that?”


“A little as a hobby and for fun but mostly so that I can orchestrate the lives of the people I have mapped. I decide who meets whom, who marries whom, who eats what, who gets to make money, who is poor, who kills and who dies.”

He leaned close, his face inches from mine.

“She and I got married you know. I never told her anything about myself. I made a few trips inside her head but never stayed there. I truly loved her. You see…your mother was the most beautiful girl I have ever known. I had to make sure that she never suffered. But then you were born. And she died. I could not forgive you for that. All these years I’ve lived inside your head. All the decisions and the choices you have made are because of me. You feel your life is great don’t you? It is easy for me to flick a switch and everything could change.. Your wife, your children are mine. They are the way I want them to be. You are mine. Your very essence is mine.”

I had a strange sensation of not being there. The plane was landing and I was falling. I slipped below the seat and out of the plane and into the sky. I fell through the gap between the cotton clouds and saw the tall buildings of the city. I tried to stop my descent but I kept going down. I closed my eyes and braced myself. Vaguely, stories of people who died while falling flashed through my head. Their hearts stopped before they ever touched the ground.

There was a loud bump and I opened my eyes.

I looked at the empty seat next to me. The plane was making its way to a parking bay and there was soft piano jazz coming from the speakers.

I collected my things, made my way out of the plane, and went through the immigration and customs. I stood in the taxi line and half an hour later, I was home. I kissed my wife and hugged my children. I took a shower, had dinner and then we stayed up and played a game of scrabble. I read them a bed time story, tucked them in bed and turned out the lights. I left the door ajar and then snuggled on the couch with my wife and we watched a late night talk show.

Everything is pretty much the same. I have a good life and things are going great. I’m often aware of voices and tunes in my head but I pretend not to hear them.

-----Feb 20, 2007