Her & I

Her chest felt pale and sticky under me as I was sinking into her. If you were to lift me, I’d leave a heart-shaped mark on her chest. It was my spot; It showed that I will always be there with her. Speaking of heart, I remember when hers used to beat. It was when she was with her family. I’m talking about before she tested positive, before her coughs, before her fevers, and before her pneumonia.

Now, it was all continuous pain and pressure in her chest. Her heart had never beat the same again. Until it had never beaten at all.

She’s just laying there, bedridden and lonely. I’m no different, but at least I’m alive. There was a time when we’d get visitors. It was the time before and after they thought they have the vaccine. Her family would often come in protective clothing and masks to avoid the contagion of her pain.

In the short period of every visit, she would forget she was even in quarantine. That was nice and all until the visiting stopped. And we knew why it stopped. There was a television mounted on the upper corner of the wall. From the look of the commotion that was on the news, I imagine they’re all bedridden and lonely somewhere too.

I was the closest thing she had to someone holding her hand as she struggled against the pain.

It’s ridiculous how they thought they have the remedy for all this, and it seemed like it is working until they realized it was only spreading. Of course, by that time, it was too late.

The world fell into pain, chaos, and despair. We would watch it all on the screen: the looting, the madness, and the terror. I would often wonder what was going on in her head, knowing she had the same fate as those who have succumbed to the pain.

When lost in thought, I would ask myself, why am I here? Why couldn’t she pass me down to one of her grandchildren? But I’d realize I’d still be in the same position, sinking into her dead grandchild’s chest somewhere and dreading the rotting smell of the dead body. My spot will always be there with her! At least we were on a hospital bed, unlike the majority who are rotting in the streets and alleyways.

Perhaps they installed this air conditioner for its white noise. It soothed her, relaxed her, and helped her into a state of acceptance. But as for now, the only good it has is getting rid of her smell.

I’ve gotten good at blocking out its endless humming, but I often quail in agony to it. You would think this place would have lost power by now, but no.

What kept me going is knowing things could have been worse. The air conditioner could have been in front of my vision instead of the corner of my eyes. It could have been closer to my face instead of the back wall. Besides, thanks to the air flowing from it, her rotting smell hasn’t suffocated me to death yet. Well, at least she has an oxygen mask, not that she’s using it anymore.

I’ve been around her neck for a while now. It seemed like yesterday her once-husband gifted me to her. I remember how surprised she was and how she admired my shining beads. Prepossessing was the word she used to describe me. The glow, the shine, and the contours of my crystallized heart. I loved how she was in love with the shape of me. Now, look at me, laying on her dead body, reminiscing ancient history.

Some knew hell would someday begin ascending into this world, but I wonder if any of them knew 2019 was that beginning. Perhaps some are healthy and are out there scavenging. But I wonder what is even valuable? Surely not my beads and not the heart shape that I am. I will always be there with her.