Through the Glass
By Aron Woolnough
I can’t shake this smell of strawberries, haven’t eaten any,
or anything. My fingers don’t smell of them, I don’t know. Sometimes it goes
away when I scratch my beard. But not every time. Even if I scratch it a lot.
There are no strawberries about, I’ve looked for them everywhere. Even tried swapping
fags and favours for them, but no luck. Not even Dee-Dee has some, and I once
saw him with a live rabbit. No joke, honest, a live rabbit. Didn’t even kill
it, just liked stroking it – relaxed him, he said. I thought he was going to eat
it when I first saw it, he’s French, so I wouldn’t put it past him. The ass
didn’t have one single strawberry though, when I asked Doc about it, he just
made notes and grumbled in his usual grumpy voice. I don’t think he understands
me, even though he is really clever, and he is really clever, he’s a doctor,
they have to be really clever for like 10 years before they can be a doctor and
then they get to look after people, so I’m not saying he isn’t clever, just
that he can’t look after me.
I’m not like most people. No one
else can smell the strawberries, I’ve asked. I don’t even remember ever eating
a strawberry, but when I smell it, I know it. I don’t remember anything before
getting here, just like sleeping before this routine of lights on, breakfast,
stare at a wall, dinner, pills and lights off. I think this is even my first
visitation. Weird that I had to come so far. Can I see you again tomorrow? I
think I should be able to pencil you in, between ‘stare at a wall’ and ‘dinner’,
if you like. I don’t care, I don’t. I said I don’t care. I really mean it, Doc
said it might be a side… affect or effect, I never know which one to say, I
usually just say ‘fect’ and let Doc fill in the blank. I suppose no one can
really tell the difference, or gives a crap. Can you hear that? I wish the
guard would stop tapping on the glass. Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it now!
I said. Sorry. I’m sorry, honest, I’m calm. They have to put us in here with
the glass between us, I don’t think I’m allowed in the normal area. I’m not
normal, they say. I don’t hurt anyone though, just a danger to myself Doc says,
but I don’t think that’s right. He doesn’t understand me, he’s clever and all,
but he doesn’t understand me.
Those two brought me here, put me
in cuffs and in the back of some guard van. They drove me out of the slammer
and down a very long road. There were no windows in the van, but I could hear
roadworks, and then silence, I think some birds singing and a plane went over
head once, but then we got here, to this big fancy building. They got me out
the van, probably with strawberries in their pockets, I couldn’t check with
hands cuffed behind my back, and they brought me into this giant metal thing.
Just me and the two guards, all the lights went funny and there was this big
moaning sound like the room was giving birth. I was fine, felt completely fine,
but both the guards seemed a bit off. One of them said they’d never done this
before, which is odd, isn’t it? Guards should do visitations all the time. But
it made me feel better that this wasn’t just my first time, this whole set up.
Like when I first had to take the pills, I was hesitant, I think, but I knew
everyone else was in the same boat as me, some even their first time too. So we
lined them up together, me and Dee-Dee and you know, like Oscar and probably
Goaty, is that what they call him? So lined them up, like shots on a bar, one
of those bars like a cowboy movie, where the bartender would slide them down
and then the cowboy would take a shot. So, yeah, like that, we lined them up and
downed them all together.
The guard stopped tapping on the
glass, right? You can see that too. So where is the noise coming from? Never
mind, doesn’t matter. You’re the silent type, I’m not a big talker either, not
usually, well sometimes, when you get me started I can’t stop. Phil says I’m
annoying and Jules thinks I’m annoying too, but he won’t admit it. Silly really,
I don’t care. Those two call me a murderer, no, killer. They call me a killer.
Go get ‘em, killer. Time for pills, killer, they say, the guards say it too
every now and then. Doc said that they wouldn’t say that, doesn’t happen, but
what does he know. He wasn’t there. Never is. Being annoying doesn’t bother me,
but that name does. My name isn’t Killer. I haven’t even killed. Besides everyone
has done wrong, here in particular. Not me though, I haven’t done anything
wrong, I just am wrong. That’s why I have to swallow twice a day. I’m getting
better though, used to be three times a day. I’m not really answering your
question, am I? Sorry. God-dammit. Excuse me. Can’t you smell that though?
Okay, focus. I’m ready.
Back when I was sleeping, before
the routine. I’m supposed to ‘construct’ my memories, I think. Like remembering
dreams, but more important. So I don’t know if any of this is true, because I
don’t even remember it, I’ve just constructed it with Doc and whats-her-face.
There was a struggle, broken glass everywhere. I remember looking through the
glass and seeing my reflection mask the person I was talking to. Like I was
talking to myself. It must’ve been darker on their side of the glass, that’s
how it works. I was right then. I mean, not ‘wrong’, I didn’t need anything but
food and water. I think Doc said this sleep was a ‘trauma’ really, some bad thing
happened. Or, the trauma woke me up, but during, or just before; I was there to
find out information, to solve a puzzle or a problem. There was definitely
lifeless walls and sterile floors – like this place. I worked a lot. Up every
morning and home late at night, I was always getting my hands dirty. I remember
this was a big opportunity and that it was too clean. I could go see someone
who I could ask one question to. It
was a really big deal. Like I needed to be in this fancy suit, like yours, and we
had to rig up this big machine to bring them to me, like they were quarantined or
something. Doc thinks it could’ve been a private plane, but it was bigger than
that and I don’t remember it moving much. So, I was on this mission, right, to investigate,
like to stop something bad from happening, but a fight broke out and the glass
shattered and everything went badly. Horribly. Traumatic.
I didn’t cause the fight, my
reflection did. The man through the glass started it, he was very angry at the
question I asked, as he answered, he got angrier and angrier. I don’t know why.
He smashed it, used the shards. That’s why I got the scars on my back and my
hands. I think in the struggle, someone got hurt, that is why I’ve got cuffs on
and we’ve gotta talk through fragile glass.
But, that is all a metaphor see, said whats-her-face, like the glass
represents something like my mother and the over-sized machine is like a stand
in for, I don’t know. She is the worst, twisting my words and making me look
like a right idiot. Who is she to tell me what I mean? I know what I mean,
god-dammit. She doesn’t know. She can’t even smell the strawberries. Even when
its really strong. Can you please stop tapping? It must be you, put your hands
on top of the table, please. Stop tapping your foot. Stop it, I said. You want
to know something I never told that bitch, whats-her-face. In this re-constructed
dream. It was only a reflection for a little while, but then I saw.
Where are you going? We’re not
done. I’ve got ages ‘til dinner. Stay, please stay. Erm, I’ll tell you more, it
gets better. Don’t go, don’t. You can even tap, I don’t mind. Thank you. I’m
sorry my life is boring, but it is what it is. Wanna hear an interesting story?
I’ll tell you one, no two, if we’ve got the time. Did you hear the one about
the Lady from round the corner and her two dogs? They can jump really high, she
is training them up to jump in here and steal, everyone has their hobbies. I
have hobbies, other than searching for strawberries and constructing dreams. I
read a lot, like all these books, about time and space. One where this man
right, like a scientist, smarter than Doc, saw a star vanish in the sky.
Vanish, gone, but he didn’t take a picture, or film it. Or at least, he tried
to, but couldn’t. So he had to use like a worm hole to get really far away,
like backwards in time, to see it happen again and managed to film it. Isn’t
that amazing, if you run away really, really far and really, really quickly,
you can rewind time. I wish I could go backwards in time, to see if I’m right.
Maybe I could even do it so I don’t wake up. I like it here, but I miss the
peace and excitement from my dream. I’d like to go back to that life. I’m not
annoying you, am I? Its just that, as good as routine is for me, it’s a bit
repetitive for my liking. I wish I could break through this glass and swap
places with you.
I prefer constructed memories to
actual memories, don’t you? They’re like a puzzle, I like solving puzzles.
There are little gaps and leaps of logic, but it always seems to make sense to
me, at least, no matter what crazy theory I have to come up with about a worm’s
hole or whatever I can think of, just to tell that bitch whats-her-face to shut
up. Shut up, I’ll tell her. Stop being stupid, stop twisting my words. My
theories don’t make her shut up though, they only make her talk more about my
subconscious and stuff I don’t know about. The only thing that makes her shut
up and go away is when I get angry, so I get angry. Ouch. Oh, I’m sorry, it was
me tapping the glass this whole time, I didn’t even notice. My finger is
bleeding, I must’ve cracked the glass or something. Glass can be very sharp,
use it like knives, or you can get it really thin, as thin as a hair pin, and
use it to pick the locks on handcuffs. As useful as it is, it is fragile, like
a mother giving birth. I could use my chair to break through this barrier
between us, cos I’m rougher than you, seen a few more bar fights in my time.
The pills are supposed to make me calm, so I don’t care, but I’m angry. I
didn’t take them today. I can smell you through that crack, a sweet aroma from
you, a strong perfume that surrounds you. Not yours though, surely. A lady’s
then. Yes, yes, a blonde lady, with reddish lips and that perfume. A new piece
of the puzzle: Strawberries.
