I covered my ears, the fork was still in my hand. I couldn't cover the other ear with a plaster hand, so I shrugged.
"Really?" he said. "It's a little childish. Don't you think so?"
I swallowed and choked again. I took a sip of water and chased it up.
"Tomorrow," I said. "Let's talk about it tomorrow. You can tell me everything tomorrow."
"Really? Tomorrow?" he said, shook his head. "You are so strange."
"Head injury," I made a sad expression.
"Yeah, blame it on the head injury. Before that, you were a freak. Okay, tomorrow. We'll talk about it tomorrow. No matter what happens, you just have to deal with it."
"I accept your offer," I said and put another fork of food into my mouth.
"What's the next agenda?"
"Salem's hospital."
"Then what?"
"I just acted by chance."
"I like the feeling of consistent planning."
Early that morning, Salem's hospital was quiet. A Catholic priest, wearing a white collar and short sleeves, walked through the parking lot with a small black fabric briefcase.
Nick parked the car under a cool tree and turned on the engine. He looked at me and waited for me to move towards the doorknob, but I didn't. I just sat and stared out the window. He is sitting next to me. His body relaxed on the seat, and although he pulled the key from the lighter, every sign he gave me indicated that he was willing to wait as long as I needed it.
I am not satisfied at all. I don't know what I am going to do. How can I stop them from removing Ben's life support system? Who would believe me? Who will listen? What will happen if Ben’s life support system is unplugged? I feel like I am about to lose control. How many times have I been to the hospital in the past few days? Too much.
A week ago, everything was normal. My life is well organized, well organized. I’m desperately looking for an existence, I have friends, I have an apartment, I spend most of my time doing what I like to do—it’s not much, but this is my life, maybe I’m not doing my best I can, but at least, I can control it.
Now, I realize that control is just an illusion, a prank of a great universe, I have been fooled. A joke we all love to hear. The fact is, in the end, I will have nothing. The desperate survival manual is that I may be dead. The best situation is that I will be diagnosed with a spiritual illness.
"I'm not crazy," I said to Nick.
"I know," Nick said. Not a joke, but a statement of fact. "I believe you."
"Okay," I said.
I am ready for the next step. I am about to jump off a cliff and enter an unknown world. I know that no matter how or where I land, I will be hurt.
"Let's go," I said.
I opened the door and Nick followed. He bypassed the back of the car and we walked into the hospital together.
"Whatever you do, don't leave me alone."
"I won't," he said, putting his hand on my back.
There is no one else in Ben's room, only Ben. He was right where I left him, quiet and calm, and the machine was breathing for him. Is it possible that he is younger than when I saw him yesterday? Has he shrunk? I can't bear to look at him.
Nick waited at the door. He carefully checked the car key in his hand, as if he had never seen it before.
I walked across the room. I grabbed Ben's hand and he felt very cold. It's colder and smaller than yesterday.
"Abigail?" A familiar voice came from my shoulder.
I looked up and saw Margaret Moreau, Ben's mother.
"Mrs. Morrow?" I rushed to the little woman, and she grabbed me with her strong arms. "Oh, dear, I thought I would never see you again."
She began to cry. We hug each other and cry. Her taste is exactly the same as I remembered. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nick sneak out the door. Maybe it would be more interesting to put his key in the hallway.
Finally we broke up and she looked me up and down.
"Oh, Abby, what's the matter with you?"
"I'm fine." I said.
She looked a little suspicious, and began to examine many of my wounds with concern.
"Did you have an accident with Ben?" Her voice was quiet, as if everything would be fine if I were with Ben, and she would keep my secret.
"No," I said. "Completely DúLì's accident."
Margaret has always been nice to me. She is the queen of sandwiches. How many sandwiches did she make for me? There are countless.
I said straightforwardly, "I'm here to ask you not to dismantle the life support system."
She took a sharp breath and covered her heart with her hand; my voice sounded louder than I thought.
She shook her head, no. Her eyes were cold and full of sadness.
"He is gone. I can't feel him. Yesterday, I felt him. When I came in this morning, I couldn't feel him anymore. He was gone. The doctors said they could do nothing."
"No." I said.
"I know you love him, Abby. I know. He is my baby. My sweet baby," she sighed. "Without him, I would never be like before."
"No," I said. "He didn't leave. You can't do it."
"Please, Abby, this is the hardest thing I have ever done. I can't even bear to do this. Don't make me embarrassed."
I opened and closed my mouth, and opened my mouth again.
"Mrs. Morrow," I began to say ー
"You bitch! What are you doing here?"
Bonnie suddenly appeared at the door. Her heart-shaped face flushed with anger. Her eyes are puffy. Her hair is sluggish.
Bonnie turned to Margaret Moreau and asked, "What is she doing here?"
Bonnie held a Manila paper folder in her hand.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked.
She waved the folder in front of me.
"No," I said.
"His life insurance policy," she said.
"You go find his life insurance policy?" Mrs. Moreau said. She looks sick. She hugged herself with her arms.
"Except you, do you know who his beneficiaries are?" Bonnie shouted, asking Mrs. Moreau directly.
"His life insurance? He hasn't left yet," said Mrs. Moreo. Does her son have life insurance? She doesn't even have a 30-year-old son
"She! That bitch. He gave her half of his fortune!"
She stuffed me the folder. I took a step back, and without taking the folder, she threw it at me. The documents flew out of the Manila paper file folder and fell to the ground.
"Bonnie!" Madame Moreau rebuked.
Bonnie yelled out some inaudible voices. Then she turned and ran out of the ward.
"Ben. Oh, Benny," Mrs. Moreau sighed. She fell heavily on the floor and began to pack up the papers, stacking them neatly. There are a few photos I took in the file. Ben and I lay face down. Margaret turned it over. In the photo, he put his arms around me and I smiled happily. My eyes are shining.
"He loves you, Abby," she said, "he just doesn't know how to show it."
I knelt down to help her collect documents and photos. She grabbed my hand and refused to let me help her.
"I need to be alone with my son. Please go."
"I'm sorry." I said, I'm sorry, sorry for everything. I'm sorry to fall in love with Ben Morrow, I'm sorry to leave him, I'm sorry to sit at the counter in her kitchen and eat her sandwich. everything.
"I'm sorry," I said again, fresh tears streaming from my eyes.
"Please go. At least for a while."
I stood up and walked out of the room. When I walked in the door, I couldn't control myself. Selfish.
When Margaret Moreau's brain-dead son was lying where we were standing, I begged her for the last time, "Please don't take him away. Please."
She said nothing, nor looked up at me. When I left, she was kneeling on the floor, and I watched her sixty-three years of age, and finally added ten years of sorrow. When she picked up the file, her hands trembled.
I am the worst.
I looked at Nick down the corridor of the hospital. He was nowhere to be found.
My heavy footsteps led me to the lobby and walked towards the parking lot. I hope I can find him there. He may be there. He will be easy to find, but I will never know. I did not succeed.
"Minfu, you shouldn't be here," Bruce said.
When Akio Toyoda appeared by his bed almost out of thin air, he didn't seem surprised at all.
Bruce was transferred to a rehabilitation center near the hospital. The hotel has luxurious suites and five-star hotel facilities. Mingfu dragged the two Toro people behind him into the room. They all have one on the back of their suit jackets. Neither of them moved, but they were still breathing. Akio sealed their mouths and eyes with tape, and tied their wrists back. He dragged them into a closet, arranged them like canned sardines, and closed the door.
"It's very nice here," Toyuo said. Before coming to Bruce's bed, he looked around the room. He couldn't help but sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Comfortable bed. The bed is getting better and better. Do you know what brand it is? Sometimes they write this on the pamphlet or something beside the bed."
"I don't know, but you can watch it," Bruce said, pointing to the bedside table. He didn't seem to worry at all that an unwelcome monster appeared uninvited in his recuperation room.
Akio opened the drawer. Not Gideon’s Bible, but Tao Te Ching. "How advanced. This is a particularly good translation." He hurriedly read it without looking carefully.
"I don't know," Danman said.
"Tao said," Toyuo raised his finger, "Failure is an opportunity. If you blame others, there is no end to blame. The master corrects your own mistakes and does not ask others. I accept the blame, and I hurt you deeply. Sorry.
"Lessons and apologies, you are so knowledgeable. I accept your apology, Toyuo, although I am grateful for you to deliver this letter in person. You really have to go. If Toro finds out that you are here—"
"He won't find me," Toyuo said.
"I think you underestimated him," Danman said. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)