I Fell in Love with Hope by Lancali

Author:Lancali
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2023-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

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I can leave my body as I wish. That is how I can tell you things you think I shouldn’t know. It is how I can be a narrator even for the scenes I am not a part of.

A body is merely something through which I can be perceived. All I have to do is be completely still, and then I travel. Into the wall, the ceiling, the windows, anywhere at all. I can spectate in any part of this place, not just the hospital, but the stretch of its influence.

In the simplest of terms, I am a soul like all those Sam likes to greet. I’ve always been able to watch, to see, but I’ve never lived. I don’t have a life, as people do. I am a narrator. Narrators watch.

But I became greedy. I’d had far too many violent, bloody tales to tell. It was through Sam that I learned how to create peaceful ones.

It’s been thirteen days since the woman I was sure would pass away got better, and it’s been thirteen days since Sam fell unconscious.

The door creaks open, letting in a thin cut of light as the woman walks in. It gleams on Sam, bypassing my shadow in the chair next to him.

The woman wears sadness beneath her mask. With her gloves on, she hands me two sweet breads wrapped in wax paper. She tells me she made them for him, for when he wakes up.

The woman, in her kindness, made a mistake just now.

She said when. When Sam wakes up. That single word could hold such power if only it weren’t a lie. I want to believe, looking at his shut eyes and quiet body, that he will wake. But time does not grant me a when. It is not that generous. It grants me an if…

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I find myself crying. A tear, slow and soft, trails down my cheek and catches on my jaw. I hook it with my finger, feel the wetness, taste its salt. Then more tears well. They fall as I press myself against Sam’s bed and lay my face on his pillow. I used to touch his hair, his nose, his hands, but I can’t anymore. They’re too limp, too empty of him. Instead, I beg silently through the dark,

“Wake up.” Again, louder, “Wake up, please.” Selfishly, “Wake up, Sam, for me.”

He doesn’t. He’s elsewhere, in another castle, in an enchanted forest, swimming in a sea as the whale circles, circles, circles.

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