Sjarush

Sjarush

When the lights flashed on, his routine started. First the systematic stretching of every muscle in his body starting with the toes and working up to facial contortion. Then out of bed. Use chamber pot. Stretch and limber up for yoga exercise. Finally, he sat in a partial lotus position and hummed the mantra and stared at the fish-eyed lens of the camera.

Sjarush relaxed his mind and his body floated. He watched as his little sister picked dandelions in their neighbor's front yard.

What were their names? Dorothy and Samuel Levinson. Sari and he used to play with their children, Levi and Jacob. Well, Sari was too young to play and she was a girl; but she tagged along, nonetheless. Sari picked dandelions and made them into a bright yellow bouquet for Mama. The boys were bored and talking.

What had they been talking about?

Fear tensed Sjarush's mind and he was no longer floating. That was the day it had happened. That terrible day. The dandelions so yellow filled his memory and Sari, his beautiful little sister, jet black hair and brown cherub hands, laughing green eyes and intoxicating giggle when she was happy. And, she had been very happy that day. She was picking a bouquet of bright yellow dandelions for their mother. She ran out of dandelions in the Levinson's yard and he was busy talking tough with Levi and Jacob. They were laughing and shoving each other and proving they were male and tough and Sari had run across the street to pick the dandelions in the McSorley's yard. He hadn't been watching Sari like his mother had told him to and she ran out into the street and that horrible screech of tires skidding on pavement and the scream, the scream of pain and fear that came out of that little four year old girl; his sweet, beautiful, little, Sari; and, he had just stood there, frozen beside Jacob and Levi and he couldn't do anything.

His mother was the first one at Sari's side and it was her wail of anguish that finally unfroze his feet from the Levinson turf. As in a trance, his feet walked him, then ran him to his mother's side and he couldn't see Sari. He saw all the scattered dandelions on the black pavement and they were wilted from the heat. He started picking up the dandelions and made a bouquet of them. His Mother's undulating wails filled his mind; something unchangeable had happened to Sari and he hadn't been watching her like his mother had charged him to do. He walked to the McSorley's front yard and picked the dandelions there. Christine McSorely was the neighborhood grandma and she asked Sjarush what he was doing.

Sjarush was sobbing and picking dandelions for Sari. She needed them for Mama. Mama who was wailing because Sari was trapped under the front wheels of the car and not moving or making any more sounds. He had all the dandelions he could hold now and shrill vehicle sirens were filling up the neighborhood and drowning out Mama's piercing wails that condemned him for not watching and protecting his little sister. He pushed his way through the crowd of adults and children to get to Sari and his mother. He had the dandelions for Sari and Mama. He needed to give them to Sari so everything would be okay; so she could give them to mama and everyone would smile and hug and be happy, again. Then he saw little Sari. Her eyes stared glassy and her little hand that had held dandelions seemed to be reaching for one of the soft bright yellow flowers he hadn't seen to pick up. Then big men in city EMT uniform pushed their way toward the car and scattered the crowd and they pushed him aside before he could give the bouquet of flowers to his sister. He tried to push back but they were too big and strong and his eight year old, thirty pound body wasn't strong enough to get to his little sister. So he sobbed and held the dandelions and watched as Sari's limp body was picked up and placed on the stretcher and a black bag zipped closed and that was the last time he saw his sister.

Sjarush wept sitting in a partial lotus position gazing at, but not seeing the fish-eyed camera. His hummed mantra had changed and he murmured "Sari, Sari, Sari, Sari,..."

He didn't notice the food and water that had pushed through the metal door flap. He didn't notice the flickered warning that soon it would be lights out. He floated and he remembered his sister and himself and that terrible day when he was denied giving Sari the dandelions she so loved. He must live that day complete. He must see his little sister and this time give her the bouquet. But, just as he was placing the bouquet into Sari's lifeless hand a blackness overcame him, dizziness swooned over him and he felt himself falling eternally into blackness.

When the lights flashed on, his routine started...

Sjarush was an emaciated young man who refused to eat or drink and who must be force fed intravenously so that he wouldn't die. He meditated everyday he wasn't in hospital and always with the same result.

Sjarush wept sitting in a partial lotus position gazing at, but not seeing the fish-eyed camera. His hummed mantra had changed and he murmured "Sari, Sari, Sari, Sari,..."


The light flickered its warning and an eight year old Indi-American boy placed a bouquet of dandelions into the lifeless hand of his four year old sister. He sighed as he heard a delightful little girl giggle and watched as Sari smelled the yellow dandelion smell.

"I love you Sari and, and I am sorry."

"Sjar-Sjar no no cry. Sar okay." Sari gave Sjarush back the bouquet. "Mama like, give Mama."

"I will Sari, Mama will love these pretty flowers and smile again."

Sjarush floated and smiled in the darkness. Sari was okay now, he'd given the dandelions to her and she had given them back to him. He ran on sixteen year old legs back home. He wore a dingy cotton T-shirt and shorts and his feet were bare but he ran through the back kitchen door and found his mama.

Kesha looked surprised and stared at her emaciated and filthy son. "How can you be here? You can't be here."

"Mama, Sari wants you to have these. She sent me to give them to you." Sjarush handed the bright yellow bouquet to his mother, she took them hesitantly, but when they were transferred they stayed bright yellow and still smelled like fresh summer dandelions. Kesha smiled as she smelled the bright yellow yard weed and tears welled in her dark brown eyes.

"Mama, Sari is okay and sends her love. And Mama, I'm, I'm sorry and, and I love you and, and I am okay too."

Kesha stepped toward her son, he was so thin and his skin nearly crackled when she hugged him, but he was there and she held him and she petted his head and smiled through her tears. "And I love you too, and please I have forgiven you and myself for that day. I just want you to come home to me and we can be family again. Are you home to stay? I haven't received any message of your release. I should have been the one to pick you up, but you are here."

Sjarush smelled hot oatmeal-raisin cookies and his mother pushed him toward the table and chair. He sat and smiled, happiness flooding through him. Sari was happy and giggling and okay and Mama was giving him a cookie, his favorite, oatmeal-raisin, and right out of the oven, too.

---

"His vitals are stable again doctor. He is going to make it." An electronic beep-beep, beep-beep, filled the silence as the doctor lifted an eyelid and waved a hand held light over the exposed eye. "Yes, pupils are responsive and he is breathing on his own, again. Everything seems okay now. I think we have turned some kind of corner. The crisis seems to be over."

"What do we do now, doctor?"

"Continue IV and enhanced nutrients. He is dehydrated and malnourished but his heart is young and strong. His EEG is stable also, the activity is calming to normal REM. Whatever this boy was doing he isn't doing it now. Everything is as it should be. It will take time to get his physical condition back, though." Dr. Sorensen picked up a chart hanging at the end of the hospital bed and wrote some cryptic codes that told the medical staff what to do and what the patient's condition was at this hour.

"Keep him sedated and I will conference with Dr. Ferris to see if we send him back to his cell for observation or keep him here for recovery."

Dr. Sorensen left the ICU and walked to the nursing station. The desk nurse was talking on the phone as he picked up another chart to orient himself with his next patient.

"Doctor I have Mrs. Kalakesh on the line and she seem's a little, well you talk to her, she isn't making sense and she is asking about her son, Sjarush."

"Mrs. Kalakesh you say? Okay, I have a little time. Odd she should call now."

"Yes doctor, she is asking why her son was released without her being told."

"What?" Dr. Sorensen took the phone from the nurse and frowned as he placed the receiver to his ear.

"I am Dr. Sorensen, how may I help you Mrs. Kalakesh. No, your son is here and he is doing fine. It was touch and go about a half hour ago, though; but he is well on his way to recovery. Yes, Mrs. Kalakesh. I will be conferencing with Dr. Ferris later today to decide his next step of treatment, but from what I can see, your son has turned some kind of corner and, well it looks promising. Yes, Mrs. Kalakesh. I will call you back with any decision we make. Yes, Mrs. Kalakesh. Not a problem. No, no call anytime. Thank-you, and have a good evening. Yes, Mrs. Kalakesh. "

Dr. Sorensen handed the phone receiver back to Nurse Ellis. He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, closed his mouth, shook his head and turned his attention back to the chart he still held.

---

Mrs. Kesha Kalakesh closed her cell phone and looked into the kitchen where she had left Sjarush. The doctor had said he was still there at the Institute, and that he had just turned some kind of corner in his treatment. She frowned as she looked where her son had been sitting not five minutes ago. The dandelion bouquet was in the corell cup of water and the glass of milk was almost empty and only one cookie was left and it was half eaten. Her Sjarush, had been there and he had given her the dandelions and she had hugged him and he had drank his milk and eaten his cookies, but he hadn't really been there; had he?

Mrs. Kalakesh cleaned up the kitchen and the table. She picked up the corell cup with the dandelions and took them to a small room where there were two alters. One was her husband's, his picture and urn and incense and beside him was Sari. Kesha placed the corell cup of dandelions before her daughter's alter, lit the incense, tapped the small bell hanging between the urns and knelt murmuring a mantra for her daughter. She meditated and found peace. Her son was healing and she was healing. Soon they would be family again. Sjarush had told her so while he drank his milk.

1,984 words

II

Sjarush woke up and laid still trying to orient himself. He'd been home and had eaten oatmeal cookies fresh from the oven. But, he was back here; in his bed, in the room. He sighed deeply and began his stretching. Blood circulated through his emaciated body. He worked out the painful cramping of under nourished muscles. Then he sat on the edge of his bed. Sjarush felt hunger and thirst, although not as intensely as yesterday. He left his bed and defecated into the chamber pot and urinated in same. As was his routine he looked at the contents of the pot and saw; what was that, a raisin? There had been raisins in the cookie. Did he really run home last night and give his mother the bouquet of dandelions? How could that be possible?

All this time of moving around his room and performing his morning routine, Sjarush never once looked toward the door. Even when he carried the chamber pot toward the door flap to exchange it for a clean one he hadn't noticed that...

Sjarush stopped and looked up. The door was open. The heavy metal barrier had been swung open into the space beyond his room. Sjarush's hands began to tremble as he stepped to the doorway, knelt and placed his chamber pot outside his room. He looked outside and saw that the other room was nearly half the size of his room and it consisted of an unfolded and upright card table and four opened, metal-folding-chairs set around the table. Sjarush suddenly stood and walked briskly back to his bed. With quick precision he removed the wool blanket, folded it then set it on the floor. He folded the sheets and placed them on the blanket; removed the pillow case from the pillow, folded it, placed the small pillow on the sheets and the case on the pillow, then picked up the stack and placed it outside his room next to the chamber pot.

He stood trembling just inside his doorway, licked his dry lips with a thick and too dry tongue, closed his eyes as he sent up a small prayer, then stepped across the threshold. He stood momentarily next to the chamber pot and bedding, but once realizing he wasn't swooning into blackness and accepted that he'd be allowed to leave his room, he walked toward the small table and sat in the chair that faced the other door. For the first time he smiled, he still trembled, but there was excitement mixed with his uncertainty.

He hadn't sat for very long when the door opened and a wheeled automaton, about waist high, whirred into the room. It carried a tray of fresh cut fruit, some banana, pears, grapes, a small bowl of cooked baby rice cereal, and a drinking glass of water. The automaton placed the tray on the table before Sjarush then whirred over to the chamber pot. A lid opened on top of the machine and the contents of the pot was dumped inside, a nozzle with a jet of hot antiseptic spray thoroughly rinsed and scoured the pot. The water was so hot that the pot was dry before it was replaced just inside Sjarush's room. The lid closed and the automaton picked up the bedding placed it on top of itself and whirred back out of the small room, leaving the door open.

Sjarush must eat. He understood as much. He was very weak and the effort expended before sitting at the table had nearly maxed out what reserves he still had. His arms ached and were bruised and scabbed where IVs had been removed before he'd been returned to his room. He accepted that he'd been unconscious and under medical care. Sari had told him he'd work still to do and must return to take care of Mama. Tears welled in his eyes and he couldn't see the metal spoon of cooked cereal he held between the bowl and his mouth. His hand trembled. He was about to willingly break the long fast he'd endured so that he could gather the dandelions and give them to his sister. And once given, how he had so wanted to stay with Sari and go with her, but his father had stepped between him and the door of light and forbade him to follow. Then Sari came back and took his hand. She led him to the street where his home was, where his mother was baking oatmeal cookies and told him he must take the dandelions to Mama and he must take care of Mama. So he had burst into the kitchen and let his mother hug him and feed him cookies and milk. And now he was here; and, eating baby rice cereal and drinking water and waiting.

The bowl was empty and the water gone. He'd taken a small bite of each of the fruits on his plate but could not force his stomach to take any more. He leaned back into the chair, which seemed to signal the return of the automaton. The machine cleared the table, then with a metallic, electronic, mechanical voice said, "Fa-ahlow mm-ee, pa-a-lee-eez."

Sjarush stood and followed the machine out the door, through a hallway and into a bathroom facility. There was a shower, a sink, a mirrored cabinet and a toilet with a full toilet paper dispenser and a rack with a wash cloth, a hand towel and a thick long bath towel. On a shelf were clean and pressed clothing that he would have worn at home, shoes and socks. The automaton left him there.

First Sjarush turned on the faucet in the sink, unwrapped the brown bar of antiseptic soap and washed his hands and forearms thoroughly, in hot water, paying particular attention to his left hand and cleaning under his nails. A shiver ran down his spine as he watched the brown and gray grime disappear down the drain. Even in hospital, he wasn't cleaned of the grime of living in isolation. He looked at his bruised and scabbed arms and saw that the skin was of a lighter less dirty color an inch or two around the wounds and realized only where the skin was broken had been cleaned, probably with alcohol swabs. He shook his head, not able to wrap reason around the lack of hospital sanitation when it was obvious that he had been in a hospital facility.

Sjarush stripped and threw his soiled T-shirt, shorts and under shorts into a clothes hamper. He slid the shower door open and turned on the water to the shower nozzle, adjusted the temperature to luke-warm then stepped into the spray and slid the door shut. He basked in the gentle fall of warm water over his body. As his skin got used to the temperature, he tweaked the hot valve a little until the temperature reddened his skin comfortably; the sensation was as complete as the nirvana he'd experienced when he'd first placed the dandelions into Sari's hand. He wet his tangled black hair and turned slowly allowing himself to enjoy the pleasures of the shower. Eventually, he stepped away from the pleasure and proceeded with the task of washing. First, he shampooed his long hair. He was startled as clumps of black and gray hair stuck to his hands, but shrugged, with the realization that shedding was expected since it had been so very long since he had showered or even combed his hair. The gray had to be from his fasting; he was sure the fasting had to have taken a heavy toll on his body. He must have looked a fright to Mama last night, and yet, she had accepted his unexplained presence with a sincere hug and tears of joy to see him. As he scrubbed himself with a soapy wash cloth, he took inventory of his pale but still brown skin over thin muscle and protruding joints. His ribs protruded, his belly distended and his hips were bowl shaped with skin over them. He reminded himself of some old swami dressed in nothing but the wrappings around his loins in New Delhi, begging on the street.

He noticed hair in armpits and groin he hadn't realized before. Of course, an eight year old boy wouldn't have these developments and that was how he had mentally seen himself. And, he had grown elsewhere, which, upon reflection, pleased him.

He rinsed and with some reluctance turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall onto a fluffy floor mat. He wrapped his hair then dried his body. As he rubbed his arms, legs, backs of his shoulders and chest with a plush, soft towel, dead skin rolled and balled up. Sjarush wondered if he should rinse again, but as he dried, the dried, dead skin layer brushed off leaving smooth skin. Sjarush dressed before removing the towel from his hair. He found two combs on the shelf by the sink. He picked the wide toothed comb for the initial de-tangling. When he was ready for the finer toothed comb he finally looked into the mirror. A gasp escaped involuntarily as he looked at his thin face, his green eyes, gray streaked black hair, and the wisp of a beard and mustache.

"But I have brown eyes. Or, rather, I used to have brown eyes."

Sjarush finished, placed the soiled towels and wash cloths into the clothes hamper, put on his socks and slipped on the shoes, which to his surprise, fitted his feet comfortably. As he stood, the automaton returned and again instructed him to follow.

He was lead back to the smaller room with the table, and when he stepped in through the doorway, he braced himself for the hug from his mother. He recognized Dr. Ferris and Dr. Sorensen who stood next to the chairs by the card table. They were smiling and Sjarush knew he was going home.



1,664 words