A Certain State of Mind

A CERTAIN STATE OF MIND

~

         Of course, the small, green man called Tod was imperceptible to anyone but Kostas. It will be thought by some that Tod was merely a figment of his imagination—his imaginary friend, if you will. But if the course of history has taught us anything at all, it's that not everything we fail to see is imaginary. Others will choose to believe that the Green Man was a guide, a source of comfort to a dying man lost on his way to final oblivion. Whatever Tod may have been, there is no question he played a grand part in Kostas' own reflections on life.

~

         “A baby grows inside her, dear Kostas. And she and it'll be dead before the night is done. This illness of yours isn't as discerning as others would have you believe.”

         “That's rich. You know, why don't you tell it to all the all the fucking junkies and faggots—I'm sure they'll find pleasure in that observation. Don't you think, Tod?”

         “You say those words like you aren't those things. Who are you protesting for, now? Soon enough, you too will die. And you can bet your Mama is smart enough to figure out you didn't contract this from a tainted blood transfusion.”

         He peered through the divider at a woman who, a few months prior, had been quite beautiful, but now, splayed on a cot, was but skin and bones—save for her swollen belly. Never had he felt so forlorn at the sight of a expectant mother, though he had never seen one on the brink of death, either. Where a healthful mother is said to glow, this woman had quite the opposite effect—she swallowed all the light approaching her like the event horizon of a black hole. He remembered the moment he first saw her—eyes blue as a glacier and towheaded like only a child could be. She was not a child anymore, however. Her eyes had sunken into her head, traced by a darkness so deep it was nigh on impossible to know what color they were now and what wispy patches of her once thick locks remained, were brittle as strands of spun sugar. The Green Man offered a most awful smile as she thrashed unceremoniously on her bed.

         “You share her fate, dear. She'll never see the sun's rays peeking over the distant horizon again. And her baby will suffocate and starve in her carcass and there's nothing anyone can do to prevent it. Not you. Not her doctors. Not anyone.”

         “I can't stand her constant wailing!” said Kostas. “Better she just hurry up and die.”

         “You can't lie to me, Kostas. I'm part of you—remember? You're shitting your pants in terror right now at the thought of death. And you care a lot more than you let on.”

         “I'm not afraid of death, asshole. I'm afraid of dying. There's a big difference.”

         “Why do you think I'm here? I can make it easier for you. Cut your wrists right now and you don't have go through this.”

         “No. I want everyone to see me like this. I want them to beg me for forgiveness. Where the fuck are my friends? Huh? Where's Mama? Watching her soaps? No, I want them all to see me like this.”

         “How spiteful, dear.”

         “Fuck you.”

         Kostas watched the woman contort in all sorts of ways. It was clear to him that she would never experience a moment's joy again. He wondered if she too had a Green Man taunting her as her breaths grew fewer and father between and if she was just as anguished in mind as she so obviously was in body. And he could not bear to fathom his own unwinding in the coming months as she mouthed the words, “My baby, my baby.” Was she concerned about her own suffering? Or was she even cognizant of the last vestiges of mortal life slipping away from her weakened grip? Kostas thought she only had enough faculty to mourn either herself or her baby and it was evident to him that she had chosen the latter. “My baby, my baby,” she mouthed again. He didn't have the heart to tell her that her baby was just as dead as she was. And he realized then that Tod was right—he did care more than he let on. It was hard to care, though. It was hard to let things die and to acknowledge that he had no power. It was hard to see his own fate play out like a stage production before his eyes and to feel even the slightest bit of sympathy. But he did, and he hated that he cared so much. “My baby, my baby.”

         “Oh it's a goner, dear,” Tod said, running his fingers through her wisps of hair, “All she can hope for is that it's suffering is but a fraction of her own. And you can bet that's the last hope she'll ever have.”

         “Oh fuck this!” he said, doing his damnedest to hold back tears.

         “Tell her if you want. Tell her that you care. It won't matter, though, in the grander scheme. She and her baby are still going to die. And so will you.”

         “You think I don't know that?”

         “Why haven't you come to terms with it, then? Anyway, what does it matter?—I'm just an observer.”

         He pulled back the divider only to be overwhelmed by the all-consuming stench of dying. He recoiled at first but quickly readied himself to go to her side. Suddenly, he was all too familiar with the concept of mortality. The corners of her lips bubbled with spit as she continued to mouth her futile proclamation. He reached for her hand and held it firmly. With every throe of her body, he was reminded that the very same poison coursing through her veins was also inside him.

         “What terrifies me more than anything else is the thought of dying alone. Please know that you are not alone now. I am with you, still.”

         “Interesting.”

         “Let go—for you and your baby, let go.”

         “My baby!” the mother yelled.

         The desperation in her voice was concrete. Kostas felt her hand tighten around his. It was all he could do not cry.

         “Please—please spare yourselves the pain of fighting!”

         “Good. Help her die, Kostas. Now, about you...”

         “Shut up! Just shut up for a moment!” His voice cracked as he tried shutting the Green Man out. Her breathing steadied. She was ready. “Do you see it? Is there anything there?”

         “All she sees now is the ceiling, dear Kostas.”

         “Shut your fucking mouth!”

         Kostas looked at her eyes and caught a brief glimpse of the color again as she accepted her and her child's fate. And because he felt her so intuitively, he tried to imagine the hereafter in vivid detail—the summit of an impossibly tall mountain pierced a never-ending ocean of clouds. The crevices of each peak brimmed with snow and ice beneath the long shadow of ten thousand crags. And somewhere beneath the surface of the clouds, a glacier so large it very likely never ended at all, creaked ominously. And at the top of this glacier a large serac quite unexpectedly collapsed into the loose powder snow of the mountain's steep incline, spurring an avalanche. But it was nothing to be feared anymore. It was a thing of singular beauty. All he could hear was the rumble of the infinite barrage of snow and stone and it was the most soothing swan-song he could imagine.

         So she was dead.

         “And that's it. That's how you die, dear Kostas. And the world will keep on spinning.”

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IN PROGRESS