In all honesty, I hadn’t been this aroused in months, I could literally feel the blood pumping furiously through my body and firing up the long-dormant parts of my brain that I had ignored for so long. But beyond her beauty, beyond her naked body resting on mine and making me hornier than ever in my life, the greatest feeling was her weight on me. It was real. I could feel her pushing down on my shoulders, sitting on my lap. I could even hear the springs of my mattress creak beneath us. This weight was real, it had to be, and that meant she was real.
“You need me to be real because you need to believe that there is some aspect of this world that can make you happy, that there is at least one person who can take away your pain. But if I am just a creation of your own mind, then you should be overjoyed. It means that you hold the key to your own happiness, and wherever you live, no matter how you live, you can make it paradise.”
The words were whispered and her face was lit with tender care and love. The girl then leaned down and settled herself on top of me like a cat, her chest pressed against mine and her face buried in the side of my neck. Her body, it was so warm and soft, I was completely at a loss for words on how to describe it. All I could do was wrap my arms around her womanly frame, hold her tight, and cry tears of joy. I didn’t care, real or not, she was here with me, and that was all that mattered. Whether she was some sort of angel from heaven or just a figment of my imagination, as long as she was with me, I’d be happy.
“Marcus, come on, it’s time to wake up. You’ve been in bed for too long,” my mom said, knocking on the door.
At the sound of the doorknob shaking, I turned with fear in my eyes. “No, don’t. Please, not yet.”
The handle was fully turned, and just as the door began to move, the girl disappeared, leaving me alone once again. My mom just stood in the doorway, looking at me and wondering why I was crying.
Even if my dreams had now reached new levels of depth and I could interact with the girl more than I had ever hoped, that didn’t help my daily routine. In fact, it made it worse. Spending every second longing to go back home and go to bed so that I could wake up beside that girl, my life became even more miserable. Everything that made my day difficult became horrible, and everything that had never bothered me before was now a curse, as it required time and stood in my way. Add that to my continuous pain and my multiple daily seizures, and each day went from being an endless hell to a taunting deprivation of the one light in my hellish life.
Such lively contact like that special night before was rare and not often repeated. The girl still appeared every morning for a few minutes, but I could rarely do anything more than touch her gently with my hand. Going further would cause her to disappear. She never spoke much, only when I said something to her or asked her questions, and even then, her answers were simple and often repeated. Regardless, just waking up next to her each morning was enough to get me through the day, but barely.
While my visions of the girl seemed to mature, every night, I dreamt about that star, the star being devoured by the black hole in its core, the star sitting in a nebula looking like the eye of God. I could feel myself drawing closer and closer to the black hole in the center, being pulled in towards my death. The closer I got, the larger the celestial mass became, surpassing my human comprehension. Yet strangely, after that night, while my increasing proximity continue to expand my view of the star around it, the black hole was actually shrinking like a contracting pupil. It was as if the black hole was sizing itself to correspond with my distance from it.
December was exceptionally rough, quite simply because I had decided to try chemo and radiation treatment for my cancer. Well, to be honest, my parents basically coerced me into doing it and making me feel guilty if I refused. They wanted me to live no matter what, so the only way to throw off their suspicions that I was eagerly awaiting death was to feint hopelessness and fear towards the treatment. I eventually agreed to treatment under one condition: if I didn’t see any results before New Year’s or I started losing my hair, I was going to quit. I didn’t have high expectations, but I would do it to get my parents off my back.
On my first day of chemotherapy, I found myself in a room with other cancer patients, all sitting in chairs lining the walls. Each one was hooked up to an IV, and their stages of treatment were all visible on their emaciating bodies. Considering the time it took for each session, everyone had methods of keeping boredom at bay. There were laptops, handheld game consoles, books, and one of the kids was even playing with a Rubik’s Cube. I sat by the window, letting the poison run through my veins. I was also receiving a heavy dose of morphine, helping to numb some of my pain. Hopefully I wouldn’t have a seizure in the hospital. The last thing I needed was some intern right out of med school sticking a tube down my throat.
Drowsy from the drugs running through me, I let my mind wander. My thoughts drifted back to the girl and what she had told me. She said that if she wasn’t real, if she was just a figment of my imagination, then I could call on her whenever I needed. Maybe it was something I should try. I closed my eyes, forcing aside all distractions and sensations. I focused my mind on the girl, but was unsure of what would actually bring her forth. If I just thought about her, would she appear in this room with me? Should I try and fall asleep and dream about her?
Slowly the sounds of the other patients faded, the world falling silent around me. But I was not alone. I felt someone gently grasp my hand and opened my eyes, staring into the beautiful blues of the girl. She was kneeling at my feet, naked as always. Behind her, the chemotherapy room had blurred into an unrecognizable collage, as if I was falling out of sync with reality.
“Marcus, my dear sweet Marcus…” she whispered, resting her head on my lap.
I slowly reached out and placed my hand on the top of her head, stroking her hair. “You’re really here,” I gasped in amazement.
“Of course I’m here; I’m always with you. Marcus, I’m so proud of you, for everything you’ve endured. Your patience will be rewarded, I promise you. Just hold on and I will bring you happiness.”
“What am I supposed to wait for?”
“The day when our souls can finally achieve convergence.”
I then jerked in my chair, having been awoken by the nurse. I had slept through the treatment.
Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and I was happy to see them go. I hated the holidays; all of the cheer and happiness made my organs fail. With the start of the New Year, I had the doctors check my condition and see if any progress had been made on my tumors. After a month of radiation and chemo, I had figured at least a slight change would be found. No. There was nothing. They had resisted the treatment and I was stuck where I was.