19
“What do you mean… that my memories are fake?”
Ton rubbed his forehead. His expression was worried.
“It’s as I said. Your memories are fake.”
“Fake?” I smiled dejectedly. “What does that mean? Fake? This is going crazy.”
“Yes, it’s crazy…” Ton glanced at me. His eyes were fierce.
His seriousness scared me. If it was as my instinct told me, the truth was far worse than I’d anticipated.
“And how do you know…? Why do you think that my memories are fake?”
Ton looked up. He leaned back as if trying to avoid something.
“I listen to everything you said. Everything seems to contradict.” He looked aside, trying to avoid my eyes. “When I think about the wasp that day, if we go out of the box, everything will be reasonable.”
He looked at the ceiling blankly.
“I feel weird since you denied the illusion you saw. At first, I thought you just scared of something.” Ton said. “The answers are yes and no. You scare of something that actually happened. However, it can’t confirm that your memories are fake.”
He placed a white puzzle on the board swiftly.
“What make everything contradicts is you. You said you can’t remember participating in the events of your illusions, but you can recall your past and tell what's happened to you.” Ton glanced at me slowly. “More importantly, after the culprit sent such specific messages and we saw some evidence in that house, it’s confirmed that your illusion had actually happened. Such specific information matched with the images you saw. It’s impossible that it’s a mere prank from some psychopath. The culprit must share the same memory like yours.”
“Then, why… why do I have fake memories?” My voice started to shake.
Ton looked at me hesitantly as if he thought he shouldn’t make me any more worried.
“According to what I’d studied, you might be harm or faced something that hurt you deeply. Sometimes, our minds would find a way to press down those memories to survive. In your case, you might forget that you were hurt or…”
I gulped, feeling as if there was a lump in my throat.
“All of your memories might be wrong.” Ton knitted his eyebrows. His expression was serious. “In that case, it will be worse… a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s a lot worse because… it’s normal that our memories might be inaccurate.” He explained. “You might remember the color of a flower you saw earlier wrong, or you might remember the time wrong when you have to do something boring. What is the worst of the worst is... we can't prove that what you know… which one is a truth and which one is a lie, including your illusions.”
I stepped back. I didn’t wholeheartedly believe what Ton said even though my mind didn’t dare to refuse them.
“I know that it’s important for you. You have to know the truth.” He paused a while. “And it’s very important that you had to connect everything together on your own.”
He took the notebook from his pocket, flipped through it swiftly before handed it to me.
“If I didn’t note it wrong, it should be like this.” He said. “You read it and tell me whether you can connect the situation.”
I took the notebook and read Ton’s notes, trying to connect everything I saw from each illusion. A long time passed, but it was fruitless.
“I… can’t.”
Ton nodded as if he’d expected this. He took the notebook back and put it away.
“Fake memory is something that is hard to remedy.” He said. “We don’t know which memory is true or false. The nature of human’s brain makes our memories inaccurate.”
The silence blanketed the room. I could feel the cold touch on my face. Ton looked at me with worried before continued.
“I don’t want to make you worry, but this is important for you. You need to understand what and who you are.” Ton paused before continued.
“When we see something, our brain will process it and make it easier to remember, leaving out the trivial details. This process makes us able to remember things, and, at the same times, it makes us remember thing wrong.” He took a piece and looked at it absent-mindedly. “If nobody is in the same events with you, when you remember something wrong, you will never know what the truth is.”
Ton moved the white piece in the middle of the board. His eyes looked far away.
“Even when you can find someone to confirm what you see, it might not be necessary to be true because a human is a human. Everyone’s memory can be wrong.”
“When someone remembers something wrong… doesn’t that person feels strange? Doesn’t it possible to be aware that something isn’t right?” I asked, not because I wanted to know the answer but because I wanted to run away from what I was, who I was.
Ton shook his head. “It’s more than that. What do you think is the most reliable thing for us human?”
I was silence, trying to find the meaning of this question.
“It’s our self…”
“And why do you think we believe in our self?”
I shook my head. Ton used his finger to move a puzzle in the middle of the board in a circle.
“Because we believe in our memories… This is the reason.” He said. “If we don’t believe in what we see, learn, and remember, what else can we believe in?”
I said nothing. Ton looked at me as if he knew what I wanted to ask.
“Yes, there might be an exception. One might believe in a god or someone we admire.” He closed his eyes. “But the beginning of such belief still comes from the same place.”
He looked up. His eyes showed the thought that was deep inside.
“Our beliefs are from what we know, see, or touch.” Ton said. “Because we believe it, we can remember it, and because we remember it, we believe in it.”
Ton’s thoughts were deeper than mine. We human created our faith from information, experience, and feeling we’d been through. It didn’t matter whether we could remember it or not. We might be unable to remember it clearly, but deep inside our heart, we keep that experience with us, waiting for it to resurface.
We might forget it, but it didn’t disappear.
It was hidden in our every move.
However, what if our experience was wrong…? Where would our life end?
“You probably meet some kids that believe in God because their parents do. The teaching was stuck in their memory. It can be on the surface. It can be at the bottom of their mind.” Ton said. “Or when we believe that someone is a good person or not. We believe that from the memory and feeling we’ve kept inside. We believe in things because of the memory we have, whether it’s right or not.”
If we believe in our self because of our memory, then what about when our memory was fake?
Could we still believe in our self then?
And what if what I’d known about myself was all lies?
Could I still be the same person I was?
“And… what do I have to do…” Even though I was scared, my subconscious demanded me to remain strong. “How can I regain my real memory?”
Ton hesitated a bit before answered.
“I don’t know.” Ton shook his head. “In a psychological way, there’re many theories claimed to help, but many people also reject them. They are too risky.”
“I have nothing to lose,” I said. “I just have to try.”
“I know only a way, but it’s too dangerous.” He said. “It might cause your condition to worsen. There were many cases regarding this method. Its effects… are far worse than you can imagine.”
I looked at him determinedly and placed a white puzzle on the board. However, no matter how I showed him that I was strong enough, Ton could look through me.
“You seem to want to risk.” Ton sighed. “But you’re still uncertain.”
I forced a smiled. My stomach ran wild. Ton looked at me briefly before asked.
“You probably have something to say.” He stated. “This is your problem. You have the right to say, so just say it.”
“I…” I was silent briefly. “If my memory is fake, I maybe… maybe not someone I’ve always been. I might be unable to remain who I am, then… can I still believe in myself ?”
Ton looked at me before stood up. He walked over to sit beside me and pressed himself on me as if we were lovers.
“What do you think it makes you the person you are now?”
I mumbled shortly before replied. “My body?”
“And if I have a transsexual operation or cosmetic surgery?” Ton pressed himself harder.
“You… are still you.”
“And what make you the person you are?”
I tried to separate away. My face was burning hot from the rushing blood. My heart beat so fast as if it was about to jump out of my chest. I thought that was the condition of my fearing of men like I often experienced, but it felt… different.
“A- Ah… H- habit.” I started to stutter.
“And if my habits change? Let’s say, if I become gentler, more sweet-mouthed, What will you do?” He pressed himself a bit more.
A torrent of thoughts tumbled inside my head. I felt the image in front of me started to blur. The only sound thundering in my ears was my heartbeat.
“And about the memory,” He said as he leaned his face closer. “Let me ask you more. If I can’t remember things I’ve done from yesterday, or remember my friend’s name wrong, will I still am the same me?”
I nodded confusedly. My thoughts broke. Ton smiled faintly before continued.
“I can’t give you the answer.” He laughed gently. “When others look at me, they won’t look at me in the same way. Who can see me as the person I really am?”
He stepped back, giving me some space to feel safe. I took a deep breath, trying to reclaim my conscious.
“Logic might be necessary.” He said. “But the feeling is important, too.”
He patted on my shoulder lightly. He looked at me. His eyes were full of confidence.
“You might not believe it. The others might not believe it, but I believe it.” He said. “No matter what, you are who you are.”
The pressure that was there moments ago disappeared. The atmosphere in the room became cooler and lighter. We looked at each other for a while and let words from our hearts communicated, letting the silence to sing its song.
I smiled with realizing.
Ton smiled gently in reply. He took a few steps back before asked me casually.
“You don’t seem to be so stressful.” He said. “Do you want to take a rest first, or should we continue now.”
The illusion broke. It felt like what happened a moment ago was just a dream, but his touch was there. His gentleness was there. His warmth was there.
Ton was the same Ton as always.
“I- I’m ready now,” I replied.
“Okay.” He went to take a pencil from his bag and torn some pages from his notebook. “This method is a bit risky, but I’ll be careful.”
He gave me the paper and the pencil. I adjusted my glasses and looked at him questioningly.
“Write whatever you can think of.” He said. “Maybe there’s something hidden in the message.”
I took the paper and placed them in front of me, staring at the faded blue line on the pages. Picking up the pencil, I tried to write some words that I could think of.
“You don’t have to force yourself to think.” He said. “Just write whatever comes into your mind. You don’t have to care what the message will be about.”
I closed my eyes briefly to relax before started to write every message running through my mind. They were trivial things, from what I liked, what I’ve done, or my precious memories. I even wrote about some small private matters. Even though everything I wrote seems useless, they might become some valuable information for us.
I handed the paper to him to show that I was done. Ton took the paper to read for a few minutes before looked at me again.
“I try to connect what you’ve seen.” He explained. “I don’t think this isn’t any of use.”
Ton handed the paper back to me. I let out a big sigh before glanced at what I wrote. Each word wasn’t connected. Each message was like a piece of broken glasses. When a mirror broke and turned into tiny fragments, it could reflect only small parts of the whole story that were unable to be fully understood.
Suddenly, I noticed a message that was different from the others. I shoved the paper back at him and pointed at the middle of the page.
“This… what’s this?” I asked.
“What is it?” He scratched his head.
The middle of the page was left almost blank. Only two words were written there.
Knife. Thick blood.
“Knife?” Ton said. “What do you think it means?”
“I think…” I said. “It means the weapon the culprit used to harm me at that time.”
Ton nodded before continued asking.
“And why do you pay attention to the word ‘thick blood’?”
“I can’t remember why I wrote it,” I answered. “But it might have some meaning. When I wrote, I let out every word I had in my head. What I don’t understand is why the word knife and thick blood were written next to each other.”
“Well, I don’t know either.” Ton shrugged. “I want to know, too.”
He looked at the paper thoughtfully, turning the paper around to look for something. We completely forgot about the Milk Jigsaw on the low table. The bigger puzzle was enchanting both of us.
Ton stood up and sat down repeatedly. He looked at the paper all the time. I stared at the words, trying to find the connection. However, no matter how hard I tried, the only thing I received was silence.
We became silent for a long time. I felt strange that Ton hadn’t tried to exchange his opinions with me. These words probably had some significant meanings from his point of view. He stared at them as if his thought was sucked into space at the middle of that page.
I stood up, brushing the dust off my pants before heading to the door.
“Where are you going?” Ton raised his brows.
“Bathroom.” I smiled in reply.
I closed the door silently and headed to the bathroom, looking hard into the mirror hanging on the wall. The dark feeling floated into my heart.
The reflection showing in the mirror might be me.
But it wasn’t me…
What if everything I knew was just a lie? What if everything I remembered was just some illusion?
Then, could I still be the same me?
Could I live as I should live my life?
Or was I someone else’s replacement? I didn’t actually exist in this world and was a mere character someone created. I was only someone’s lie.
I… I… am me… Yes, I… No… I… Yes… No… No… No…
No!
…
Who… am… I…
Ton might believe it, but a belief was different from the reality. If what I was and knew weren’t real, then who was it standing in the mirror?
Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it? Who was it?
Who… am I…?
I looked at the mirror absent-mindedly for a while. My nerves were numb. My conscious was fading. I slowly dug into my pocket and took out the pocket knife before pointed its tip at my throat.
I slowly moved its tip on my skin. A drop of blood seeped out slowly.
So fresh… So relax… why did death give such relax feeling?
It didn’t matter. It was useless to think about it.
Goodbye… Ton. Goodbye… Dad.
Goodbye… me.
Suddenly, my mind was shocked back from the abyss. I heard the sound of beating the door on my side coming along with a familiar shout.
Ton broke into the room with all his might. He charged toward me, grabbing my wrist fiercely with one hand and used another hand to knock off the pocket knife I was holding on.
“Moron! I didn’t give you the knife to do something like this!” Ton roared. I looked at him surprisingly.
All of a sudden, he held me so tight that it was hard to breathe. I struggled to free myself but wasn’t successful.
“What are you doing…?” I asked with a whisper, but Ton remained still.
We let the time flew by. The heat from Ton’s body slowly seeped into mine. I let him hug me like that. It was a bit uncomfortable but also made me feel safe at the same time.
“How did you know…?” I broke the silence.
“When you smiled,” Ton whispered. “I realized that you’re still stuck with it. I also saw the knife pocket in your pants, so I followed you.”
Ton held me tighter before whispered.
“If you’re sad, then cry. You don’t have to hold it in.”
“I’m not sad…”
“I know that you’re sad right now. Don’t lie to me.”
I looked at Ton for a second and asked.
“Do you think… I’m… still the same me?”
“I told you so,” Ton smiled. “Even though the others won’t believe, I’ll believe you. You’re still the same you.”
I looked into Ton’s eyes and smiled while the tear ran down my face.
That was right. No matter how much I’d changed, I would still be myself.
Within the stopped time, we comforted each other under the starlight from the sky.
No matter what happened. I would still be me.