Tuesdays in November

It was raining that autumn day, but it always seemed to rain on Tuesdays in November. So this seemingly outpour of emotion from the sky, was nothing but a common weather happening. Still, the shrill beep from the life support machines seemed to acknowledge the rain and sounded off in rhythm with the drops flicking against the window in the private, intensive care unit room. Every so often, a stray leaf that had freed itself from its summer body would peak in, as if to see what the sound was about. The hall was quiet, except for the sounds of the autumn rain and the occasional soft footsteps against the sterile white floors. They kept it quiet, so as not to disturb the patients. The stress level was to be kept to a minimum. Ironically, this was the breeding ground for uncomfortable emotions: fear, anxiety, grief, guilt. They swirled around and clung to the skin like cigarette smoke, unburdening its gray pallor and noxious odor.
The man in the waiting room sat alone, an unopened novel beside him. His brown eyes were beautiful and engulfing like the deprived, frightened gaze of a wounded bird, but his arms were both empty and vast. Both beckoning and repelling in the same breath. Like the absence of warmth in the night sky, beyond our own atmosphere, he existed within cold, steel armor encasing a broken soul. Like the feral cat, retreating except to risk contact in order to obtain food, it would have been difficult to attach to him, however an ephemeral spark of his charm that existed prior would ignite within those same eyes, puncturing with the flame, charring without even a moment to control the blaze. He wore his anger hidden beneath a sad smile that was genuine, only because of a soul that was inherently pure. His wounds were fresh and deep, but vulnerable due the raw scrapes upon his spirit, with which he was born; a spirit that never quite accepted itself, always seeking to please, never feeling successful.
I sat next to him each day I visited, but we hadn’t spoken before that Tuesday. He kept birds, he told me. And he liked to study moths. He was most fascinated by the Luna Moth. He said the dust from their wings was thought to bring delicious slumber upon those whom encountered the creature. He felt exhilarated when one rested near him because he spent his nights at the other end of the bed cursing the red figures that illuminated his room, and hoped one day some of the dust might rub off on him.
He liked to talk about his pets. He found wounded birds and repaired their wings so that they could once again fly. He kept the birds in cages. His birds were not given names. They didn’t belong to him. Sometimes his birds died, their broken bodies were beyond repair. Once or twice a bird refused to leave him, but he didn’t let them stay. He needed to decide when they would leave.
One night, he told me he risked all that he was willing to risk. He allowed himself to be fooled by the illusion covering a deep canyon. He stepped out cautiously onto what appeared to be the safety of a net. As his feet stepped off solid ground, he immediately regretted the decision and felt the stinging heat of his body’s reaction and the inevitable slamming to the hard rock at the bottom. Here he sat, in darkness and despair, with no visible way out and no one to hear him call from below. He crawled up, clawing his way over dry, desert rock unable to see his next maneuver until he made it out of the pit, only to find that the casualties from his dalliance lingered and blinded him from seeing to find his way home.
I always drank too much wine when I was near him. He made me nervous, because I knew how his eyes could pierce my skin between the ribs and hook my body in their talons. He touched me gently in the way of hands that had grown accustomed to examining the weak and unwell. His fingers moved softly and gingerly. He healed the wounds of the most delicate body with his hands, while I tried to heal the emotional scars that only the blade of life could inflict. I was nothing more than the wind that tousled his hair, a casualty from a random dive.