A Pretty Name
LATER IN YEARS OF TIME
CHAPTER 6: A Pretty Name
Sometimes, Hudson was not very good at remembering the names of people he met even if they have the same school and often see each other. For him, it was never his skill to remember the full name of this certain person; if he does remember, it frequently ends up as the wrong one. He was never good at remembering people's names, which is his weakness.
But something unknown happened. The other day, he woke up as if he was fighting for his life before waking up. His heart felt strange and tight. It felt as if someone squeezed, and breathing was already that difficult for him. When he looked around, he saw that he was in his room but it seemed that it suddenly became the room he had when he was 20. It also felt like he had lived more than this year. When he noticed the picture frame on his study desk, he felt as if it was an unfamiliar appearance for him.
He touched his head as it ached, but not that much. It was enough for him to bear it for a while. It felt like he had slept too much and everything became unfamiliar to him. He tilted his head and convinced himself that he might just be overthinking things because of stress and other things which pressures him.
He got out of his bed and his heart ached a bit. He again tilted his head and touched his chest, baffled as to why it had been hurting ever since he woke up. Does he have a heart illness? He doesn't know what happened to him after sleeping. When he stood up, he had an image in his head.
It was an unknown woman. She had a wide grin on her face and looked like she was about to cry. Her hand was outstretched to him, but the image was so hazy and that woman's face was not clear nor was it that much to recall and to know her face. It was a woman.
A woman?
He deeply frowned and clutched his aching heart. He doesn't know why he was acting like this. Why does his heart feel so much hurt? It seemed like he was grieving that the sadness in his heart was of like someone important in his life died. He unconsciously looked at the notebook on his desk, still opened and furrowed his brows. Suddenly, he became of the said notebook and gulped. Moreover, it felt like reading the notebook would give him pain and grief but in his mind, it says to read what was in the notebook.
Because of that, he slowly made his way to the opened notebook and lowered his head to read it while muttering.
He put on his glasses before mumbling, "… Without you is a sea without water."
He blinked his eyes and then again, his tears fell on his own and his heart ached so much that he also fell to the ground. He couldn't understand himself. Why was he crying? After reading the notebook? Why does he feel so sad? Why does he feel dejected? He felt like he wanted to die.
His tears that fell aggressively on the floor and his hands were also unstoppable. It appeared as if telling him that he needs to let out this kind of emotion. He couldn't figure out the reason why he was crying. But one thing he knew was that he was deeply sad and lost. As in loss even when he had the map in his hand.
Why was he feeling this way? Did he do something unforgivable that he had to cry like this? Never in his entire life did he ever feel this way. He doesn't know what to do to stop himself. He clutched his heart and panted, breathing for air as he wiped his tears away.
What were those tears for? Why was he crying?
Again and again, for those weeks that passed by, he decided to go to a therapist to check on himself to see if he had some brain injury or if his sanity was still intact. He was about to lose his mind for crying every night without reason. He was crying so badly that he couldn't comprehend himself.
The therapist worriedly looked at him and blurted, "Sir, the loss of someone you loved and cherished would have a bad impact on you, physically or emotionally. It will make you feel drained, makes you feel helpless due to a lack of skills to prevent yourself from crying. I know that the sessions you have with me might not be of help since the last four sessions of us, you still have not had any progress. Hudson, you said you were crying, but why were you crying?" The therapist's voice was gentle and genuinely concerned for his mental state as well as his health. This kind of dangerous occurrence was very rare to anyone, so his therapist didn't know what to do to him.
Hudson was at a loss for words. Even he couldn't comprehend himself. Why was he crying? Was it because of the woman in his memory? But what about that woman? Who was that woman? What was she doing in his memories?
He looked at the ground, opened his mouth, and closed it after. He doesn't know how and what to respond to the therapist's question. The therapist lifted his glasses and asked him.
"You said your heart felt like it was about to burst. The notebook you made me read, what was that poetry and lines for? Was it for that woman in your memory?"
Hudson dejectedly sighed and replied, "I don't know. It feels so complicated. I can't understand myself, Counselor."
The therapist sighed too after his response. "Then do you have any more memories other than the one you said?"
Hudson was frustrated and didn't know what to say. He then recalled last night's event and his gaze finally raised to the therapist across him.
"I have. Last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I remembered something like this woman was calling my name, but I couldn't hear her voice. It has no sound. In my memory, I wanted to touch her but then she disappeared." He sighed and was upset at what was happening to him. The therapist looked at him and wrote what he said in his small notebook and sighed.
Hudson then continued, "Her face nor figure, nor was anything of her were vivid. Everything was a mess, and I couldn't conclude what was happening to myself either. Counselor, what should I do? I have done many things to avert my focus, but it only shifted to my emotions which leads me to cry and sometimes even faint. I don't know. I can't explain myself." He gestured as he spoke and let out a long exhale upon finishing.
The therapist wetted his lower lip and gently looked at him, "Hudson, I have this book with me. This book is something I cherish, but it has intriguing content. Perhaps reading this will trigger more of your memories. If ever you got bored of reading this or do you want another type of book, I can find you anything. For now, I want you to finish this book and at our next session, I want you to tell me what have you learned." He nodded his head and took the book from the drawer of his desk.
Hudson nodded his head and was handed the book to his hand. He read the title in his mind which says, 'Hidden Blues: Myosotis sylvatica'. Hudson tilted his head in confusion and looked at the therapist as if confirming that he is indeed giving this to him to read and return after finishing.
The therapist grinned at him and said, "That is a book I love the most, but I want you to read it. Tell me what you think about our next session. All right?"
Hudson looked down at the book again and nodded his head. With that, he left the office wordlessly.
***
He recalled a line in the book the therapist gave him, 'Blues of blues, the wish of blues has my heart; never was it answered.' That line reminded him of facing this woman whose name is Audrey.
Audrey.
How did he remember her name?
His eyes wavered and his breathing became unstable. How did he remember this someone's name when he never even met her? How did he….
He stared at the woman with doubts and confusion in his mind. But his mind was feeling differently.
It was thumping hard but was painfully beating as it does. It feels painful.
Why?
Who is this woman?
"… Hud …son…"
She called his name but his heart can't be stable. Why? Why was he feeling this way? He felt surprised upon seeing her, and on top of that, even remembering her name.
"Miss, what else are you standing there for? Come on, it's time for your medicine. Come on, we need to hurry up and I have to assist the doctor with his surgery later on."
Before he could speak, the woman was dragged by the nurse in great hurry.
Audrey.
It is a pretty name.