‘Twenty by one point five.’
‘Focus on the green light, Agata.’
‘Twenty-one by one point six. You’re doing
great, Agata.’
‘Thank you,’ I uttered feebly.
‘Twenty-two by two point zero. Focus on the red
light now, Agata.’
My eyelids were unpleasantly itching, stretched
and fixed so that the laser could easily cut through my eyeball. The picture
was blurry; only two bright lights were shimmering in front of my vision line.
Red and green. Like two Vortex suns, I thought. Naruanar, the Red One, and
Laicanar, the Green Two.
And the rays of Helwanar, the bright blue sun, were
presently warming him. He probably
has already gotten married to a noble Ariser maiden… a young maiden who did not have my baggage, my complications, my
awful temper and my responsibility for several billion souls, including his own… and his life is probably full of joy. Please, God, let him have joy. Forget me, forget what we had, Nolementar mine - no, not mine anymore - just be happy...
… for creators and their creations should never ever fall in love
with each other. It ends badly. For me, it ended very badly. Rob Nolementar
came from the Vortex, saved my life, we shared love that moves not one sun but seven, then I made him go back and never return because life on my world was killing him.
Simple. Very simple. So painful.
I swallowed hard. I should not cry, because a) it
has been eighteen months, and b) I was getting LASIK. Tears and lasers do not
mingle very well, I imagined. And c) I would be dead by the end of next year the
latest, maybe earlier, so I had to endure through a very small portion of
forever anyway.
Why I was getting LASIK, you will ask, dear
reader? Why bother if I was so certain of my demise?
I just wanted to admire my own world in all its
glory before I am gone, to absorb as much beauty with as much clarity and
precision as possible. I wanted to see.
So I found a clinic, scheduled the surgery, and
was now laying on the operation table, trying to think only about the nurses’ instructions
and nothing else, first and foremost – about my Ring of Togetherness that was
presently off my finger and in my bag. And my bag was in Austin's car.
Yes. I went back to my old boyfriend. If you
ask me why, it is probably the first question in my life to which the answer
would be “I don’t know”. Usually, I
have answers. Stupid, incorrect, totally off the mark, but answers. How I could
give my body to a Human after I have been loved by a Luminite? I don’t know.
Don’t ask again. Call me a whore, an idiot, a sex addict, call me whatever you
like – just don’t ask me about my reasons. I don’t know.
Maybe I did it instinctively, just in order to
survive. I knew I would die in 2012, so I savored every moment of my remaining
life. Even as the laser cut through my eyeballs, I was enjoying it, but the joy
was so bitter. Bile and ashes on my lips. They were kissed by the wrong man –
what other kind of joy could one expect?
Yet I still danced, still breathed, was still kissed.
Still alive.
‘All done. You will be able to get up in a
moment, Agata.’
I felt the nurse remove the fixators off my
eyes. Wow, that was fast. I got off the operation table, adjusted my blue pajamas, put on some blacked-out shades, then looked at the doctor through
the fog.
‘Your vision will be restored to one hundred
per cent after you get some sleep,’ said Doctor Vlad. I smiled at him.
‘Did I do well?’
‘You did excellent, Agata.’
‘Thank you, doctor. Thank you, ladies.’
One of the nurses accompanied me to my room. I
sat on the bed and tried to focus my vision on her. She was getting less and less blurry by the
second. Amazing.
‘One case out of one hundred has pains. Call me
if you feel any pain in your eyes. I will be here in a second with some
painkiller drops. OK, Agata?’
‘You may as well go get them now. You’ll see –
this one case is going to be me.’
‘What makes you think so?’
‘I have notoriously bad luck.’
The nurse giggled. I stared at her through Rob’s
old Ray-Bans.
‘Do you find pain or bad luck funny?’
She was still smiling as she said, exiting, ‘Just
let me know, Agata.’
‘My name is Gate,’
I growled through gritted teeth at the closed door.
And certainly enough, my eyes started aching in
several minutes. One case out of a hundred. Yeah, no shit. I’m one in a
million, I’m once in a bloody lifetime.
Well, I was no stranger to pain. The scars on
my calves I got in Greece after my self-imposed autodafé were still there. Ugly, just like my first months of that summer. Beautiful, just like my reconciliation with Rob. Reminders.
Austin was busting my head about removing them surgically, but I was only
rolling my eyes and telling him to find himself a new scar-free girlfriend if
it was so important to him. He merely responded that the scars irritated his
skin when my legs were around his neck.
This usually shut me up – I could not tolerate
any mention of our intimate rapport outside the bedroom. When I was with
Austin, my eyes were always closed. Outside my bedroom, I treated him like
furniture. He responded with rudeness and insults, disappeared for weeks, then
somehow, after yet another “reconciliation” dinner we ended up in bed
together, then, the morning after, it was my cue. I could not feel the Ring of
Togetherness on my finger, although it was firmly planted on, I threw tantrums,
Austin realized I was thinking about Rob again, called me a slut, then
disappeared again.
I cannot call this a relationship, dear reader.
Especially after having lived a dream.
Yet it was no dream. I had one person in my
life to remind me it was all reality.
Exceller Lenatireya Norui.
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