HAUNTED MAN

 

"HAUNTED MAN"
BY FIZA JAMSHAID & MUHAMMAD YOUNAS RAZA

    “You are not giving me much to work with here”. I take a deep drag of my cigarette slowly and exhale the smoke after a few seconds. I look at her through the smoke as she fiddles with notepad and pen in her hand, waiting patiently for me to give her something, anything that she can grab on to. “Doctor, do you ever wonder, if it’s worth it, whatever we do?” I ask her to gauge her reaction. In an instant, she replies “Call me Ayla, please.

    Of course, I always do and everything is worth it in the end”. I smile to myself, typical psychiatric strategy, relate to your patient till they open their mouth and pour it all out. Little does she know that I have been my own psychiatrist all my life. I know all the strategies; I’ve even studied psychology. I sit patiently, inhaling the smoke, waiting to see how long does it take for her to start speaking just to fill the void of silence in the whole room which attempts weakly to make a lively appearance, a wall covered full of books, small pots of flowers in corners, bright maroon walls, as if these things could drown out the horrors that were narrated in this room.

    “So, we have an hour left” there it is, an attempt to fill the silence. I plan on remaining silent. I’m not here for therapy. I am my own therapist; I could care less about how much time is left. “Why are you here Desmond”. Now that is an interesting question, why am I here if not therapy. “Well, Doctor Ayla, now that you have asked the right question, I just might give you something”. I put out the cigarette in the little ashtray beside my chair. Smokers are a regular here I notice.

    It began 7 years back. I had a good life up till the point of 11^th grade. I had it all and then I had none. I had a complete happy family; my father’s business was at its peak and I had nothing to worry about. How naive of me to think that life will be easy. I was a middle child, not so bright in studies but I was creative, a thinker. I used to think a lot and that is what made me I am today. I fell in love for the first time in my life in 11^th grade. Her name was Anna. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. My looks have always been a hit with the ladies along with my caring and thoughtful personality.

    Almost every girl that I have dated saw perfection in me but Anna was the one who seemed perfect to me. I got her to know me and soon enough we were in love. I had found my heaven on earth. I had never felt this feeling and I gave my all. Few beautiful months went by and she started to fall sick. It grew rapidly. I wonder how I did not see it at that time. Soon, she started to take days off from school. Nothing felt good on those days, the sun would be shining bright but for me, it was equal to a rainy day in December. She was my sunshine and the one who brought flavor to my mouth because without her presence, not even my favorite food tasted the same.

    After a few weeks, she told me that she was diagnosed with cancer. A tumor in her head was growing so fast that the doctors could do nothing. What a day it was, I have never cried so much in my whole life. Not even when I saw my grandmother’s burnt body in front of me but that day, I cried till I could no more. She wanted to leave but I loved her, I loved her not how she was. I wanted her in sickness and in health but life didn’t give me much time to be with her in her sickness.

     The doctors tried everything, from chemotherapy to every kind of drug but they weren’t successful. She lost her hair and started to wear a cap. I used to take her cap off and kiss her head, something she never understood. Neither did I at that time but I guess it was an attempt to show my love for her that it did not depend on her looks, it was unconditional. Lord knows it was. 3 months went by like this and one morning when I was getting dressed in her favorite black shirt that she loved on me. I received the call that would change me forever. I was told that she breathed her last that very morning and that she was gone. I did not cry. I was gone too. She took me with her and all I could feel was numbness.

    I fell into depression and this was only the beginning of the dark path that I was going to take. I distanced myself from my family. They noticed and tried to talk to me but I never gave them anything. I spent my days in my room, the whole 12^th grade. I did not go to school anymore. My father knew the board members. Therefore, it wasn’t a problem for me to study at home and appear for exams only. I became addicted to weed. I used to lock my room at night and get high.

    One of these nights when I was high, I walked to my bathroom. I pulled out a razor from the shaving kit that I had bought but never used anymore. I pressed it on my left forearm till little beads of blood began to form. It felt good, the burning sensation and pain felt better than being numb. I pressed it in more and soon I was making long strokes along my forearm with the blade. Blood dripped slowly at first on the floor and then a little faster. I lay there smiling. At least I get to die on my own terms. It wasn’t enough to kill me but the blood loss made me unconscious.

    I woke up in a hospital with my parents around me. My mother was crying and my father looked worried. They had found me. I realized that I had messed up, I was messed up. It was decided that I should be put in rehab. I couldn’t agree more. I didn’t trust myself around my own self anymore. I spent 3 months in rehab and gave up weed and self-harming but the sadness, that empty feeling in my chest still remained. I tried to fill that emptiness with many meaningless relationships, most of them became toxic and abusive. I got used to being abused just for the sake of some love and care that I got every now and then. It was useless. I was a hopeless case and I gave up on being complete again.

    It was about time for me to go to college and my father’s business began to fall slowly too. Life wasn’t the same anymore. My parents began to drift apart and they constantly fought. I was constantly sad and depressed. I promised myself that I would never love again and that marriage was just another useless thing created by humans and religions. One can spend a whole life without getting married. That is what I started to believe in. Every now and then I used to have suicidal thoughts but I pulled myself out of it every single time. I knew I had to carry on.

    A year into college and I was known as the sad and depressed guy. That guy who is always busy with his own mind. I did extraordinarily good in my studies and that gained me some reputation as well. During this second year at college, I met another girl. Despite all my promises to myself, I began to fall for her. She saw past through all the walls that I had built around myself. She understood me more than I could understand myself.

    She was always there for me. I always searched for Anna in every girl that I dated and every time I was disappointed. I was haunted by her; I could never be at peace because there was no one like her. Eleanor was the one in whom I could see Anna. I was in love once again but I could not understand whether I loved her for who she was or for who I thought she was. I knew that she loved me for who I was.

    Two more years went by and I was completely in love with Eleanor. It was the same for her, maybe even more but I was afraid to commit. My parents had separated during my last year at college. I stayed with my mother. It was a difficult time but by this point, nothing moved me anymore. I could deal with anything without being affected at all. Eleanor stood by me during all these years.

    She was always there for me and I began to love her even more but still not for who she was. I always thought this is what Anna would do. I knew we were almost done with college and Eleanor wanted me to propose but I looked back at my life and it made me wonder what kind of husband would I be. Surely, I won’t be like my father who messed up everything but I will be able to do right by her. Commitment scared me to my bones. The fear of losing everything once again, the fear of becoming my father, the fear of not being able to do right by the ones I cared about.

    They say love is the strongest emotion one can feel but for me fear won. I could not commit to her in the end and I let her go. I cheated on her to make her hate me and she did. She left me. I guess I did deserve it for not letting my past go. I destroyed my happiness from my own hands. It has been a year and I wonder how things would have turned out had I not been haunted by my past.

     I light up another cigarette. I look at Doctor Ayla “I am haunted, I know that. I have accepted it and I don’t need any help with it”. The hour is almost up. “You asked me why I’m here Doctor and I asked you Is it worth it”. I take deeper drags of my cigarette to push back the clot forming in my throat. “Yes,” she replies softly, still clutching the pen and notepad in her hand on which she never wrote down anything. “I’m here because I’m alone. I don’t need your help, you’re my entertainment of sorts” I deliberately use the term entertainment to see her reaction but she remains stoic. Now she is the one being silent. “So, tell me doctor, was it worth it to be my entertainment for an hour”. She smiles softly at me and almost whispers “It will always be”.