Morose Thorn (Chapter 2) by gargleafg

May ??-I asked the nurse the date today and she had forgotten. I never remember dates because the nurse should always know. Or at least she has known since she’s been here. My, how she has aged. When she first came she was a seventy year-old with the mindset of a very mature small child. Now she’s a seventy year-old with death in her thoughts. Indeed, she is the very portrait of Death itself, but still as sweet as ever. It’s strange how she maintains sanity when it is obvious that her health is failing. Strange to me, anyway.

I hadn’t written in a while. December. That was a long way back.

I saw the rose the other day. It had been quite some time since I saw it last. Maybe six or seven months. I was beginning to think I’d lost it forever. I don’t know where it’s been. The nurse opens the door so wide but it’s never been there. I want that rose. But I doubt I will ever get out to obtain it. Maybe I’ll try to escape. I couldn’t, though. I won’t.

September 17-This is a sad day. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad in my stay here. The nurse came in today with tears in her eyes, looking as though she were at the end of her last leg of life (as she has seemed for quite some time, now). She was hunched over with black bags under her eyes; hard of breathing, hard of hearing, hard of being.

“All things need to end, young man. I won’t be here forever. In fact, I won’t be here ever.” (That isn’t quite exactly what she said--actually, it’s almost nothing like what she said…She’s much more eloquent than I will ever be). Nevertheless, I was quite puzzled by what she said. And then I figured it out. I tried to convince her to stay, but I’m not even certain that she heard a word.

I was somewhat sad when the last nurse left only because I knew I’d miss seeing such a beautiful woman everyday (and other than her beauty, I outright abhorred her). But this pales in comparison to that nurse. I’ll miss her immensely. I wonder what the new nurse will be like.

There is one thing I’ve noticed that I’ve neglected to put in this notebook (how is it that I can change such a morose subject so spontaneously and without notice?). I don’t know my own name. Neither of the nurses addressed me by my name. They would always say, “man” or in this nurse’s case “young man”. Another thing: I don’t know my real age. I guess I’m around 50 or 55 but I can’t be too sure. There are no mirrors and the window gives off a distorted reflection. I suppose it would be good to know these things. But I’ve never gathered enough courage to ask either of the nurses. If they wanted me to know, they’d tell me. Not that I’m afraid to ask them, mind you. I’m more afraid of being disappointed. I’ll probably write tomorrow to tell of what the new nurse is like.

September 18-My my! Splendid! Wonderfully splendid! The new nurse, I must say, is nearly everything I could’ve asked for. She has the beauty of the first nurse and the amiability of the second. In fact, now that I think of it, she’s almost a carbon copy of the first nurse in appearance except for the fact that she has lovely red hair and brown eyes instead of blonde hair and blue eyes. Her red hair is quite the welcome change. At first, I almost had to squint when setting my eyes upon it because I’m so unused to the color. But I was comfortable with it in a matter of mere minutes to the point where I couldn’t help but stare. I asked her what her name was. She said, “Just call me New Life.” I thought what an odd name “New Life” was. But it was probably just a pseudonym. Better off that we don’t know names at all. But quiet down about trivial things. This is wonderfully splendid! Wonderfully splendid, indeed.

I DO, however, have one problem. Note that prior to this I said that she was NEARLY everything I could have asked for. The food, while being nowhere near the dreadfulness of the first nurse, still leaves quite a bad taste in my mouth. Nothing will ever compare to that second nurse’s food…ever.

I looked out my window today. I had never noticed how old the woman across from me was getting. She’s older even than the second nurse. It’s almost frightening to look at her across from me, inadvertently hiding behind the great tree. The one man to my right I never see anymore. And the other man to my left is about my age. As spry as I, compared to the woman. Although I rarely see these people and have never said a word to them I’m almost completely certain that I know them quite well.

The rose is there. Back where it had always been (this nurse as well leaves the door open). Back where it should be. Maybe it will stay for longer. I would hope so. I would hope so a lot.