Falling . . . 2

“Either I’m in a hospital or purgatory.” I thought as a hysterical giggle tried to sneak past my lips.

Cool blue walls surrounded me. To my right sat beeping monitors and displays. My entire body ached as if I’d gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, or fallen more than 20 stories into the sea. I gazed down at myself as the memories flooded my mind; the fall, striking the water, the black void beneath the waves.

My . . . my body!

Author's Note: It's alluded to in the story but anything in italics indicates the words are spoken in a different language, in this case, Japanese. Also, I've kept the categories a bit vague on the front page as I think they would spoil a few surprises as the story develops. Thanks for reading! Hrist

I awoke with a start, my eyelids snapping open as a rush of breath entered my lungs. The ammonia tang of cheap cleaning products assaulted my nose and I struggled against the bile that rose in my raw throat. Several deep, painful breaths later I looked around at my surroundings.

“Either I’m in a hospital or purgatory.” I thought as a hysterical giggle tried to sneak past my lips.

Cool blue walls surrounded me. To my right sat beeping monitors and displays. My entire body ached as if I’d gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, or fallen more than 20 stories into the sea. I gazed down at myself as the memories flooded my mind; the fall, striking the water, the black void beneath the waves.

My . . . my body!

I swept my eyes downward, taking in the form that I now inhabited. My right arm, (my tiny pale bronze arm!), was attached to an IV. I followed the tube’s route from its needle to a fat clear bag, no doubt filled with more than just saline, considering the fact that I wasn’t screaming right now. Steady breaths pushed my chest up and down, accentuating the adolescent mounds that graced my small torso. The drugs dulled my sense of touch but I could tell that I wore nothing beneath the thin hospital gown. My arms were bound to the side of the bed with thick white leather restraints. Long, frizzy crow feather black hair, matted from salt water hung lankly about my shoulders. It was hard to tell how long the hair actually was, given that I was strapped to the bed.

“Oh lord, I’m on the suicide ward.” I thought.

My wife, Isobel, had described one to me once when she’d been pursuing her MD to become a psychiatrist. She’d actually written a paper on how the rooms in such a ward were designed to calm its occupants, even down to the paint on the walls.

“Makes sense,” I thought to myself. “No sane person jumps from a bridge . . . or thinks they’ve suddenly become a teen-aged girl.”

The thought of my wife hit me like a punch in the gut. What had happened to me? Were Izzy and Gaby okay? Sorrow and confusion enveloped me as tears filled my eyes for the first time in the years, not since . . .
My sobs roused a figure that I’d somehow failed to notice. I felt, more than saw her through my tear-streaked eyes. A sense of calm and warmth enveloped me as she pulled me into her arms, speaking softly in a language that seemed oddly familiar though I knew I’d never heard it before in my life.

“Sukiko” she murmured, followed by words I couldn’t quite make out.

I instinctively reached out to hug her back, my arms pulling frantically at the leather cuffs. Frustrated, I focused on her words, willing myself to understand.

“Sukiko, my child, Oh, my child . . . thank you, Lord, thank you.”

Japanese. She was speaking Japanese, and I understood it.

“Okasan.” I said in a soft, hoarse voice. How did I know that meant mother? This woman was this girl’s, this body’s mother. My, no, Sukiko’s mother drew back and regarded me with loving, haunted eyes. She was a petite, elegant woman in her thirties. Dark, shoulder length hair framed a thin oval face with warm brown eyes. Something told me her name was Keiko, but Sukiko always called her Okasan.

I followed her movements as she bent to retrieve a water glass with a straw sticking up from it. She was barely 5’5” tall but somehow I knew she was taller than me. She gently placed the straw to my lips and I gratefully took a drink of cool water. The liquid soothed my throat and I closed my eyes. My emotional outburst had sapped what little strength this body contained and fatigue once again rose to claim me. Just before I dropped off, I heard Sukiko’s mother calling for a doctor.

***

When I next surfaced from oblivion the room was dark. Okasa . . . Keiko lay in a recliner to my left, a blue blanket pulled up to her chin in the evening chill. Some of the monitors had deserted the right side of the room. Apparently the doctors felt Sukiko was on the mend, at least physically. Some of the soreness seemed to have left my limbs and the straps were gone from my wrists, though the IV now hung from a portable stand. I slowly sat up, which set off a number of disturbing physical sensations. The flesh on my chest obeyed the call of gravity, before bouncing to a stop like a pair of jello saucers. My lank hair fell in a cascade around my head, filling my tiny nose with the rank oily smell of unwashed hair.

“Ugh. God, I must stink.” I thought, wrinkling my nose.

As awareness of my alien flesh washed over me, I became aware of at least one familiar sensation.

“Hell, I have to pee.” I muttered under my breath.

I slowly slid back the covers and eased my slender legs over the side of the bed. How high did they have this thing set anyway? My legs dangled a good foot from the floor as I let myself down and leaned against the bed, shaking my head to get my bearings.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I whispered, plodding towards the open bathroom door, IV stand in tow.

Flipping on the lights I noticed the switch stood disturbingly higher on the wall before rushing to the toilet. I stared at it dumbly for a few moments, dancing around like a little kid until I remembered my earlier experience with Okasan and simply relaxed and let my body go on autopilot. Soon I was seated above the toilet basin, relaxing bladder muscles that seemed similar to the one’s I used to own. A quick swipe of paper and I was standing once more. I eased over to the sink and use a bar of lavender scented soap that I found rather pleasing. It's smell seemed more acute to Sukiko's nose. Finally, swallowing my fear I let my gaze move up to look in the mirror.

The girl looking back at me resembled her mother in many ways. She was petite and thin, though her limbs carried the tone of an athlete. Sukiko’s face was very cute, with high cheek bones and her mother’s almond shaped brown eyes. Her nose was a tiny button, though her lips were dry and cracked. Her hair was long but tended towards curls rather than the stick straight hair her mother possessed. Her skin was slightly darker than her mother’s olive hue, almost bronze. She was beautiful. Why would a girl who looked like Sukiko want to kill herself?

“Suki?”

I jumped, wincing as my muscles screamed in protest at the quick movement.

“Okasan, I ahhh, I needed to umm, go.” I nodded towards the toilet.

Keiko smiled gently. “Would you like to bathe? I’m sure you’re ready to be clean.”

I nodded gratefully and Sukiko’s mother helped me undress before I slipped into the warm water of the bathtub. Keiko motioned me to lean back and I draped my long hair beneath the surface, taking care not to dislodge the IV in my arm. I found the warmth of the tub incredibly relaxing and leaned against Keiko’s hands as she began to wash my hair, humming a tune that once more seemed very familiar to me. A profound sense of déjá  vu overwhelmed me as a memory rose unbidden.

Okasan was washing my hair, singing softly. I was so excited. Padre would be home in just a few hours for the first time in months. Okasan had tried to keep it a surprise but I’d peeked at my new Easter dress. I loved it so much! I couldn’t wait to show it off and see Padre’s face when he saw how pretty I looked.

My eyes snapped open and I shivered involuntarily. What was happening to me? Was I losing myself to this alien body?

“Sukiko?” Okasan asked, obviously concerned.

“I-I’m fine, Okasan. Just, a, bad dream.” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

Keiko wrinkled her nose. “Let’s get you rinsed off. You need your rest.”

Soon I was dry and dressed in another thin hospital gown. A wide yawn escaped my lips as Keiko brushed out my long hair. I tried to fight the profound fatigue as it crept into my bones. I had to figure out how this had happened to me. Was I, was my body, in a hospital room in Charlotte right now with Sukiko inside it? Had she taken over my life, or was she dead, leaving Isobel without a husband and Gaby without a father? The only way to answer any of these questions was to get off this ward and to do that I’d have to prove to a doctor and my . . . Sukiko’s, mother that I was no longer a danger to myself or others.

As I settled into bed, Keiko smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead, gently humming another tune that tugged at my memory. I sighed and closed my eyes, somehow knowing that Okasan had used this song to help me--Sukiko--sleep when she was frightened as a little girl.

I pondered the flashes of Sukiko’s muscle and mental memory that had appeared over the past few hours. They were both comforting and concerning. I still felt like Nick. I was by no means comfortable in this petite little body, no matter how attractive it was in the mirror. It just wasn’t me. Most of all I missed Izzy and Gaby. How were my wife and little girl? Would I ever find my way back home to them?