Twist 6

SIX A fuzzy light hovered in front of his face. Then, much later, there was another face, smiling. It was quite a young woman, Steve thought, had to be no more than 30. “You are alright?” She said. “Am I still alive?” “Yes. Yes, you are. You was lose a lot of blood. Now is better, I think.” “You mean……..was I given a transfusion?” “Transfusion? Yes, transfusion.” “Shit. Where am I, actually?” “It is Tworki. Polish institute of psychiatry. After you can walk and have a meal, you can talk to the doctor.” “Yes, yes I’m sure I can.” She left the room. Steve looked around at the walls. They were a dull-grey, like the light both inside and outside the room. The world in here looked fairly similar to the world outside, which surprised him. The last time he had entered a place like this, it had felt like stepping into a completely alien environment, like he had crossed a magical line from which there might be no return. In here he knew that he was still the same person. He held up his wrists to his face- they had stitched up the long, deep cuts. He may have some difficulty explaining those. Maybe there wasn’t much need for explanations right now. The nurse returned a while later. “Dinner is ready. Can you come to the dining room?” Steve almost fainted when he got up to walk. As he made his way to the dining room, he felt like he was walking funny, tilting a little to one side. The meal consisted of boiled potatoes and braised pork with a little saurkraut. Steve expected to eat quite a few more meals of a similar style here over the coming days or weeks. He looked around the dining room. The other people in the room looked different from people that Steve usually associated with. They looked older, and poorer and some of them needed assistance in cutting up their food. There were two other people at the table where Steve sat. Steve didn’t talk to them and they didn’t appear to be very interested in starting a conversation. Psychiatric patients tended to have their own ways of talking which outsiders had problems with. Steve could see that his grasp of Polish may not be adequate to have any kind of interaction with these people. Maybe that wasn’t so important, either. He managed to get back up and went back to his room. Some hours later Zaneta arrived. It was good to have a visitor, as there wasn’t much to do here apart from staring at the walls and going outside for walks, but it was too cold outside to walk around for long, so that really wasn’t a good option. Zaneta had brought with her a bag containing Steve’s toiletries and a few changes of clothes. Steve thanked her for this, at which point she placed her hand upon his, as he lay out on the bed. Steve looked up at her and gave a faint smile. “Do you need anything else?” “I’m not sure.” “Can you tell me why you did it?” “I don’t know, maybe later.” “Steve, I just hope that you will soon be able to get better.” “Yeah, me too. Thanks.” * The nurse led him into the doctor’s office. He sat down on the soft lounge chair. The nurse left the room and closed the door behind her. Steve faced the doctor, who was dressed more traditionally than any Australian psychiatrist he had seen, with his clipboard and his white coat. “You did attempt to suicide, yes?” he said. “That’s right.” Steve said. “And what it was the reason for this action?” “I was depressed. People are trying to kill me. Can you think of any other reason?” “Who is it that is wanting to kill you?” “Nobody you know. Nobody I really want to know anymore, either.” “Is there some reason for it?” “You mean, like, why do they want me dead?” “Yes.” “Revenge.” “For what?” “Some bad business.” “What kind of business.” “That’s my business, not yours. Private.” “Private?” “Yes, private.” “You understand, yes, that everything what we say here it is confidential.” “Sure. But telling you isn’t going to change anything. You know how business can be in Poland. It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t be the first person here to get murdered over a business deal that went wrong. Do you understand?” “So, why you don’t leave Poland?” “I did, but I had to come back.” “That seems a bit strange. Why you came back?” “I just had to.” “But why?” “Maybe to die.” “So you say you actually wanted it they kill you. Yes?” “Yeah, maybe.” “Now, Steve, do you want to tell me who are the people what want to kill you?” “Not really.” “You is an English teacher, is it right?” “Yeah that’s right. I is an English teacher.” “So what this private business? Some student wants to kill you because you doesn’t give good lesson?” “Yup. Of course that’s it. Sorry for keeping it secret. Don’t know how you figured it out. I tell ya man, some of those students can be pretty frightening.” “You joke with me, I think it.” “Yeah……..that’s right. Listen man, it’s my problem. Honestly. I’ll deal with it.” “By committing suicide?” “Well, that didn’t work, did it? So maybe I’ll try something different.” “You have any ideas?” “Maybe leave the country and hide. Maybe go home to Australia, stay with my dad for a while, try to get my head back together.” “I think it is better idea than stay here in Poland and wait until you dead.” “I’m sure you are right.” “We can let you go, but you should get on plane back to your home. Our nurse will take you to travel agent so you can be purchase ticket. Then we take you to airport. You must stay here in clinic until you go to plane. You understand?” “Oh yes Doctor. I understand.” * A small weight appeared to have been lifted from his shoulders. He had survived. He would be free soon and the very important decision of whether or not to stay here had been made for him. He found it difficult to sleep some nights, despite the medication they were giving him. At other times he was able to drift off. The only thought that really calmed him was the understanding that, after you stripped away all the concrete, glass and plastic, the layers of make-up and clothing, the veils of belief and ideology- after you took away all of that, people were really the same. Kings, presidents, ordinary folk, ascetics, gangsters, prisoners, mental patients. All had to eat and drink and go to the toilet, all had to breathe, all had to die, all were made of the same stuff. He had forgotten that until just then. He was happy that he’d remembered. All the same underneath- the people who had tormented him, the people he had unintentionally caused to suffer out of selfishness and ignorance, all of them the same underneath. The thing that made them different was the idea that they were different. The idea of being Polish or Australian or Catholic or Communist or Buddhist or Feminist or Capitalist or Individualist or Collectivist. Ideas, it seemed, were the number one danger, the fount of all violence. “Dear God,” Steve said under his breath. “If you let me live, if you let me get home safely and not get killed, I promise I’ll work to help people. I promise not to use pornography or prostitutes any more. If you are there God, I want you to accept my plea. Can you help me please, God?” Steve wasn’t sure if God was listening to him. He wasn’t sure if it was up to God to help, or if he should just help himself. He couldn’t decipher much in the society he found himself in, it seemed difficult to reach anybody behind their walls of plastic, glass and concrete, make-up and clothes and systems of belief. Never mind. He looked out the window, staring at the glint of moonlight that streamed through the room. Snow was lightly falling outside. * “Yes, that’s right. I’m going to have to go, back to Australia.” Zaneta was crying as she heard the news. “Look, honey. It’s really better, it’ll be much better for the both of us. I can’t explain but if I could, you would really understand. At least if I go back home to Australia, I will have some hope of life, there will be a chance that I won’t get killed.” “It isn’t fair.” She sobbed. Steve tried to comfort her. The attempt at comforting wasn’t successful. She got up and left. * He took a flight from Warsaw to Frankfurt, where a connecting flight was to take him to Singapore and on to Sydney. He had thought about going to Brisbane again, but decided that there were simply too many ghosts there that may come back to haunt him. Once aboard the flight out of Frankfurt he started to relax, exhaling deeply as the plane became airborne. He looked down out the window, catching his last glimpse of Europe. He thought the lights looked so soft and pretty. That was the last thing he thought before the sharp, cutting light ripped through the vessel and all the steel and soft fabric and human skin and bone that had been slicing through space was sucked back to earth, bringing Steve, or the idea of him, down with it.