“Von?”
My voice startles her. She looks at me for a moment, before covering herself. Then she makes a break for the door. Her legs bow gracefully as she struggles under new-born weight. A jet-black veil leaves a trail of perfume. I lay hopelessly, taking in her smell. I smile a reckless smile, because I know this is no dream. I know she’ll be back, and when she does, she’ll be here to stay. Some things are simple to describe, others not. Some moments are simply indefinable as they happen in real time. To be in awe of someone’s natural beauty is one such example. To live a perfect moment is another. To never doubt again of hope’s existence is a third. To have all three at once, well that’s the stuff that dreams are made of. These things cannot be explained. To different people, they present themselves differently.
I feel the pain leave my bones and the weight of desperation lift off my chest. Sometimes life is so beautifully timed, you just forget to breathe. I think of all my creations, and how none come close to her. She is magnificent, weird, and wonderful. In so many ways she is so much more than I could ever wish for. I created her, but she evolved naturally. Still, those breasts, those legs, that face and those eyes, I feel like they were meant for only me. All of my uncertainty, all of her despondence, and all the world’s grief has finally served its purpose. All of this was worth it. Just to know that I could feel her presence in this world and the next, makes every broken bone of mine a blessing.
Every good story should end with some sort of spiritual awakening, some deep moral realisation. I cannot speak for others, only myself. Here’s what I have learnt. Those who perish, continue watching over us. They guide us through many worlds. They care for us, long after we stop believing in their presence. They give us safe passage. They lead us where ever it is we need to go. It is the timing that dictates how we choose to acknowledge their voices. It is timing that allows us to accept their guiding hand. As they are mighty in retrospect, so too are we. In the present we are ordinary, but our actions have infinite potential for greatness. Everyday actions are just that; every-day. As they happen in real time, they are uninspired, inconsequential and completely ordinary. In past tense, they become extraordinary. I have walked on the shoulders of giants. I have touched the clouds astride an eagle’s back. I have tamed a pack of wolves. This I did, and they are almighty actions. This I did with my own two hands. This I did with my one beating heart. But I did not do it alone. I have many to thank. Thank you, Dale. Thank you mum. Thank you, Hal. But most of all, thank you to the Shadow. You taught me that all good battles must first be fought within.
I think of Von as the hallway clicks and beeps. Her beauty plays out to the soundtrack of sickness. I think of her naked body, through the coughs and the hacking. I think about the endless days I will get to spend with her. I think about the places I will take her. She showed me her world. Now it is time I show her mine. I think of what it is to be in love. It is to laugh at life’s little inconveniences. It is to cry at happy moments. It is to smile when you think of the dead. It is to remember their voices and the glow of their smiles. Most of all, it is to remember their words. It is to be brave in the face of darkness. It is to be sure in the pits of doubt. It is to keep on giving, when there is no more left to give. It is to fall to your knees and pray to an unseen god. It is to open your heart to change. To love is to evolve. To love is to take a chance. To love, is to dream. She used to be the girl of my dreams. Now she’s as real as you and I.
CHAPTER 35: Seeing is Believing
The story cannot end just yet. There is one little pickle that keeps presenting itself. James believes that Von is real, but nobody else does.
Richard has enjoyed his time with Dr Shaw. They kiss and after they separate he holds her hand once more. She wishes both father and son well, as it is now her time to leave. Only moments separate their departure from James’ re-arrival. It would seem like unfortunate timing, but we have learnt two things from James’ journey. Firstly, a moment is worth a lifetime. Secondly, things just happen when they are supposed to.
She insists on going alone, but Richard insists otherwise. They walk together through the waiting room to the parking lot, only to find she has received a ticket for parking in a disabled spot. She doesn’t mind. Richard feels bad. He offers to pay. She appreciates the gesture but says there is no need. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out $50 and places it in her hand. He balls it up and pulls her in ever so softly.
“So, when can I see you again?” Richard asks.
“I will have to check my schedule,” Dr Shaw says with a smirk.
“I’ll book an appointment if I have to. I could always use a good talking to.”
“I’ll be in touch Richard. Go and be with James now.”
“I will. But do I at least get a kiss goodbye?”
“Richard. Look…”
“I’m joking Luanne. Don’t stress so much. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not the obsessive type.”
“Well that’s good. Because I’m not the needy type.”
She places her handbag on the passenger seat before making her way to the driver side. As she opens the door she smiles at Richard. He asked for a kiss goodbye, and she obliges.
“You have my number. Give me a call if there are any updates with James. Otherwise I will talk to you tomorrow.”
“You know what, Luanne? I have a feeling he is going to be just fine.”
“That’s good. He is going to need you now more than ever.”
He winks as he pushes the door shut for her.
“Goodbye Dr Shaw, sorry Leanne.”
She frowns at him, pretending to be mad.
“Until next time, Mr Galinski. Oh, I almost forgot, I accidently picked up James’ journal. Here you go.”
Richard takes the journal without so much as a glance, instead watching Dr Shaw’s blue sedan exit the parking lot. He felt very much the same as James when he stood there. Despite every inch the car put between himself and its affectionate driver, he knew it did not matter. He would be seeing her again. Such was his excitement, he felt like he was floating. He was so in the moment that anything was possible. He bounds by the front entrance. He passes cancer patients as they smoke their final cigarettes. By the time he reaches ICU, he is positively bouncing up the corridor. He winks at James’ cocky young doctor, who seems a little less confident than he had been in previous days. It is funny how the same woman can affect two men so differently. Before entering the ward, he rests James’ file on a chair and buys a coffee from the vending machine. He did not need it; not like he usually does. It was more out of habit than anything else. Richard was completely reenergised. Nothing could dampen this mood. He had hope for James. He had hope for himself. He had hope.
He scoops up James’ file, sips his coffee, and enters the ICU ward. As he scans the narrow corridor, it soon becomes obvious that there is some sort of commotion. It is a fair way down and he does not think too much of it at first. But as he walks closer, he realises the disturbance is close to James’ room. He freezes on the spot and sifts through every possible worst-case scenario. He becomes visibly worried. His pace quickens. His coffee spills.
Suddenly a girl screams. A hospital warder is knocked to the shiny floor. Towels and dressing gowns are sent flying. The metal of an upturned supplies trolley crashes loudly against the tiles. Able bodied patients step out to investigate. Nurses stop their rounds and are also drawn to the sound. Soon the hallway is crowded with onlookers. Then the source of the commotion appears. Another scream can be heard, followed by a collective gasp as a stunning creature comes into view. Her naked body bounds towards him. Richard drops the journal. The girl’s athletic body strides toward him in wild leaps and bounds. In a matter of seconds, she passes by. The pace at which she runs pushes her jet-black hair from her face; her pale flawless face. There are no spots, no scars, not a single imperfection. She is simply, beautiful.
Her smell is intoxicating. Richard stands wide eyed, astonished at the clumsy grace she
exudes. It is not every day you see a gorgeous young woman running naked through a hospital ward. Before the shock even wears off, the girl disappears. The patients clear the halls. The nurses return to their rounds. Richard shakes his head and laughs to himself. He takes another sip of coffee before crouching down to retrieve James’ journal. Looking down, he sees the journal is face up and open to a page containing one of his son’s many sketches. The picture is black and white. It is a portrait of his son’s imaginary girlfriend. Stranger still, it is an exact likeness to the naked girl he saw just moments ago, running down the hall. It is now he finally understands. All this time James knew she was real. It was the rest of the world who did not believe. He picks up the piece of paper. He turns it over and runs his finger over the black lines of her face, believing his eyes have been mistaken. They have not.
“Von?” he asks himself.
There is a caption below the picture written in perfect cursive. He slowly reads it out loud.
“Von from the real world.”
James in the Real World Page 23