Reading to a Friend
Three Shiketsu students sat in a cramped hospital room. One, a giantess, lay upon a hard plastic mattress. She was motionless and weighted heavy with wires. The second, a young woman with stark white hair, sat upon a shitty plastic chair. She worked a pair of sewing needles on some red thread that grew from her hands. The third, a young man with the demeanor of a mortician, sat in a wheel chair. He held a huge book titled “Journey to the West” in his hands. He read aloud.
“At the time the various deities had the Great Sage surrounded, but they could not close in on him. All the hustle and bustle soon disturbed the Jade Emperor, who at once sent the Wandering Minister of Inspection and the Immortal Master of Blessed Wings to go to the Western Region and invite the aged Buddha to come and subdue the monster.”
Christopher paused to catch his breath. He’d been ordered confined to a wheelchair after Ryusei had unintentionally ratted out his fall. He was dressed in a silk blue gown, a definite upgrade from normal hospital attire to be sure. He sat in the corner of that cramped white hospital room. The room heaved with the sound of a dozen different machines working in tandem to keep a single patient among the living.
That patient was Kaylee. She lay motionless in the bed next to Christopher. She was a mess of flesh ripe with tubes and wires coming out of every pore.
Christopher frowned. When he’d first woken up, the very first thing he asked was if Kaylee and Rosethorn were alright. Ryusei had told Christopher that Rosethorn was the one in dire straits. When Christopher saw Rosethorn that morning, he thought there was no-one else to worry about. The Hospital nurse Ryusei had gotten his information had switched the fucking names. It’d been a kick in the balls to learn his relief was mistaken.
In front of Christopher, sitting on that cheap plastic chair, was Yui. She worked a pair of knitting needles on some red thread spooling from her fingers. She’d insisted on making something for Kaylee when she’d found out she was in a coma. It looked she was working on a scarf, but Christopher was no judge of material.
“Why would the Buddha help?” Yui asked, filling the momentary silence.
“He explains when he gets there.”
“Ah.”
“You want me to stop? It’s getting close to lunch--”
“Nah, keep reading, she seems to like it.”
“How can you tell?”
“I dunno?” Yui shrugged. She didn't look up from her work. “Look at her.”
Christopher glanced at Kaylee.
Whatever Yui saw, Christopher couldn’t see. He didn’t see someone who was enjoying a story. He just saw a coma patient, but he wouldn’t argue the point. Christopher hoped that Kaylee and coma patients like her just passed the time in dreamless slumber. He hoped that when she woke up; she’d remember nothing of what happened while she was unconscious. However, part of him hoped that if she was aware of her surroundings; she’d enjoy Journey to the West. He didn’t know why, the novel seemed to fit her.
He returned to the novel.
“The two sages received the decree and went straight to the Spirit Mountain…”
“...Dear Great Sage! Quickly he crouched and was about to jump up again, when the Buddhist Patriarch flipped his hand over and tossed the Monkey King out of the West Heaven Gate. The five fingers were transformed into the Five Phases of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. They became, in fact, five connected mountains, named Five-Phases Mountain, which pinned him down with just enough pressure to keep him there--”
A knock at the door interrupted Christopher’s reading. Yui quickly stowed her sewing needles and her half finished project. A nurse stuck her head in. She cast a furtive glance a Yui who still struggled to stuff her scarf in a pocket.
The nurse locked eyes with Christopher.
“It’s time for Suzuki-san’s turn down service. May I ask that you leave?”
Christopher frowned, but closed the book. “To be continued.” He muttered.
“‘The ancient name of this mountain,’ said the Guardian, ‘was the Mountain of Five Phases. It was changed to the Mountain of the Two Frontiers as a result of our Great Tang ruler’s western campaigns to secure his empire. A few years ago, I heard from my elders that during the time when Wang Mang usurped the throne of the Han emperor, this mountain fell from Heaven with a divine monkey clamped beneath it. He feared neither heat nor cold, and he took neither food nor drink. He had been watched and guarded by the spirits of the Earth, who fed him iron balls when he was hungry and juices of bronze when he was thirsty. He has lasted from that time until now, surviving both cold and hunger. He must be the one who is making all this noise. Don’t be afraid, Elder. Let’s go down the mountain to take a look.’
“Tripitaka had to agree and led his horse down the mountain. They had traveled only a few miles when they came upon a stone box in which there was indeed a monkey who, with his head sticking out, was waving his hands wildly and crying, ‘Master, why have you taken so long to get here? Welcome! Welcome! Get me out, and I’ll protect you on your way to the Western Heaven!--’”
“Snrkt!~”
Christopher looked up from his novel.
There, in that cheap plastic chair Yui had occupied yesterday, slouched Inigo. His head rested upon the foot of Kaylee’s bed. A line of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. Gigan was curled up on his head. The dragon wore a little night cap and 19th century green pajamas as it dreamed of dancing sheep in a white cloud above his head.
Christopher smiled ruefully. He turned to Kaylee, still festooned with wires and tubes.
“If you think it’s boring, at least you’re getting some good sleep!”
Christopher laughed. It was a fake laugh he hadn’t heard come out of his mouth in months. He shuddered. He had never wanted to hear that laugh again. He quickly returned his attention to the novel.
“‘All right! All right! There’s only one thing left for us to settle, and that’s the Tight-Fillet Spell.’
“The Tang Monk said, ‘I won’t recite that again.’
“‘That’s hard to say,’ said Pilgrim. ‘For when the time comes for you to face those treacherous demons and bitter ordeals, and when you, because Eight Rules and Sha Monk cannot rescue you, think of me and cannot stop yourself from reciting it, I’ll have a headache even if I’m one hundred thousand miles away. I’ll have to come back to see you, so why don’t you let this matter drop now.’ When the Tang Monk saw that Pilgrim was so long-winded, he became angrier than ever. Rolling down from his horse, he told Sha Monk to take out paper and brush from one of the wraps. Fetching some water from a brook nearby and rubbing out some ink with an ink-slab on a rock, he wrote at once a letter of banishment. Handing it over to Pilgrim, he said, ‘Monkey head! Take this as a certificate. I’ll never want you as a disciple. If I ever consent to see you again, let me fall into the Avici Hell!’
“Taking the letter of banishment, Pilgrim said quickly, ‘Master, no need to swear. Old Monkey will leave.’
“He—”
Christopher stopped. There were tears in his eyes. He put the book down. He was alone this time. Alone except for Kaylee. Streetlights shined through the window. Kaylee lay motionless beside him. The chirping of monitors and grinding medical instruments overwhelmed the sound of her breathing. He put a hand over his face as he tried to will his tears not to fall.
Kaylee breathed a ragged breath. Christopher restrained a sob. Long moments past. Christopher tried not to cry, while Kaylee tried not to die. For a long time, the only sound in that cramped white room was the labor of medical technology.
“I’m sorry.” Christopher finally managed. “It’s my fault you’re here. I know you agreed to help but… I knew you would. That’s why I found you and just texted Inigo. I knew you wouldn’t hesitate so long as I said there was a fight and... I took advantage of that.”
Christopher leaned back in his chair. His eyes widened as if the severity of what he had done was just now dawning on him. “I almost got you killed.
“It’s my fault you’re in this fucking bed. My fault you won’t wake up. And if… if you blame me when you wake up, please kick my ass, I deserve that, but don’t stop being my friend.”
Christopher took a deep breath. “I know this is fucking stupid. You probably can’t hear me. Maybe you won’t even--”
He bit his tongue. He almost admitted she might not wake up. “--blame me. But I’m not gonna accept a resignation or anything, okay?”
Christopher looked at Kaylee again. She hadn’t moved a muscle. He shook his head. Of course she wouldn’t wake up, this wasn’t a fucking movie and he wasn’t a hero. A hero wouldn’t have looked at his friends and weighted which well-meaning gesture had the most value to him. A hero wouldn’t have looked at his best friend and thought ‘will she be useful?’ A hero would’ve kept his friend out of a coma.
Christopher took a few more minutes to gather himself, before he picked the book up again. “Sorry about that. Let’s finish this chapter, then I’ll let you get some rest. Don’t worry, there’s just a page left.”
He read on to the chapter’s finish.
“He folded up the letter and put it in his sleeve…”
“...We do not know what will happen to him as he goes away; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.”