CHAPTER XIX: Clarity in Acceptance

What should I do?

And why am I even thinking about what I should do?

Maybe being locked up inside this room damaged my train of thoughts.

I sighed and knocked my head a few times to, or at least tried to, relieve, the constant aching and throbbing I've been tortured into.

I sluggishly picked up the phone and accepted his call.

"What took you so long?" Was his opening statement.

"Remind me again why I need to reply to that?" I said as I sat on the edge of my bed while still looking at the unbothered painting.

"Because it's me." I'm pretty sure he looked smug while saying that.

How predictable.

"And?"

"Nothing. That's it. What other reason do you desire, my lady?"

"Hmm, maybe something logical and borders between sensible and rational." I said blankly.

I was feeling dizzier by the second. Should I just drop the call?

"I'll try…"

But, there's something hindering me from doing so.

"Nah, it's, seriously, just because it's me. What greater excuse could you ever wish for?"

Nope. I should definitely hang up on this lunatic.

I was about to press the end button when he suddenly shouted for me to stop.

Damn, that made my headache worse.

"Okay, I'll be honest."

"Honest or truthful?" I clutched my head and forced myself to ease the pain.

"Ha? What now? Am I supposed to spot the difference?"

"Yeah, I'll lay it down the obvious for you like the spelling, the pronunciation, the number of letters-"

"Now, you're the one being a serious-not."

"You know that's not an actual word right?"

"Yeah, but I make the rules. No, I am the rule. Rules can't harm me." His overconfidence was literally seeping out of the phone.

"But, it's supposed to keep you sane."

"No, they don't! People become dysfunctional because they are forced to sell themselves as slaves to the law. Plus, not every rule created can be considered rightful." He said.

I was stunned. He can be RIGHT sometimes. Sometimes.

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why you're disturbing me." Gosh, this headache is killing me.

"I'm not disturbing you. I'm entertaining you." I just can't with this cheeky bastard.

"Yeah. Go entertain someone else. Bye." But I didn't remove the phone from my ear because knowing him…

"Wait!"

He'll definitely concede just like that.

However, that didn't stop me from being surprised by what he said next.

"Okay, I'm actually worried about you." This made me pause the self-inflicted massage I've been doing for the past few minutes.

With utter confusion, I asked, "What is there to be worried about?"

"Why don't you tell me?" He urged.

"I wish I could, however, that's not the case here, ain't it?"

I rolled my eyes instinctively, even though he couldn't see me.

Sad. I was purposely aiming to make it obvious.

"Your sarcasm is literally dripping from the phone, my lady. Ooh! I could feel it burn!"

We're getting nowhere.

"Uh huh. Now get to the freaking point because the temptation to drop the call is fucking getting to me."

He chuckled.

"I just know it. You can call it instinct."

"Only an animal relies on instinct."

"Harsh as always, but for you, I would gladly become an animal, even a fish. Although, that doesn't please me the least."

I choked on my own saliva. What the heck is this dude saying?

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Imagining a fish that has his face was so cringy, I could die.

"Ha ha. I know. I look funny in your wild imagination, but trust me, this fish would be worth millions. So, you're lucky to have me swimming back to you everytime."

I stopped mid-laugh.

I swear my cheeks feel hotter.

I also swear that it's because of the fever.

Yep, nothing more, nothing less.

I dismissed any incoming thoughts of contradiction and decided to ignore his statement.

Keyword was tried.

Why am I even blushing to begin with?

Ha. This fever is definitely driving me insane.

"Then, I'll feel more fulfilled if I sell you off. A million dollars sounds more promising to me than keeping you."

Nice. Great comeback.

I deserve a pat on the back for that.

He sighed over the phone, "Yeah, yeah. I can't win when it comes to you. It feels like I'm always losing…"

I couldn't hear the words after that because he basically whispered them.

This made me curious but not enough to ask about it.

I mean, if he was cursing me somewhere along the line, then I wouldn't bother hearing that.

"Anyway, the story is getting longer and my sleep is getting shorter. Don't you think it's time to speak up?" I said as I tried to rub the sleep away from my eyes.

"Okay. Okay. Chill. You were unresponsive to any of our calls. I thought something might have happened."

"Don't I always ignore your calls?"

"Yeah, but this time, it feels different. Don't ask me. I can simply tell."

I was speechless. This was something that occurred frequently with him.

How can he always render me incapable to process anything when it comes to him?

It's like he's always ahead of me.

It makes me feel confused.

And being confused in situations like this can lead to disaster.

"Am I right or am I wrong to think that?"

A moment of silence came in between us.

I debated on whether or not to answer him.

What was there to gain from telling him that I was indeed sick and nightmares are haunting me every night? That I was anxious with everything that's been happening to me?

What good ever came from being delicate?

Yet that also made me think about what horrible thing could arise from grooming myself in strength?

Disturbed, I inhaled and answered with the safest response I can manage.

"Am I okay?" My voice was practically inaudible but I knew he could hear it.

I knew being confused would be chaotic.

I wanted to discover what he thinks. I don't know why, but my heart's pounding as I wait for the words that would come out from his mouth.

"You're not."

My heart began to thump louder and faster. Without any reason whatsoever, I suddenly feel scared.

Scared because what he said made me want to break down.

Crumpling my shirt and looking at my work, I tried to come up with a response that doesn't show how shaken I am.

"Don't you think asking me that is kinda overrated?" Thinking back to the first time I met him, he used a similar phrase.

How nostalgic…

To think, I would be faced with the same question I dreaded for my entire life.

However, it also saddens me that I never got the answer to that puzzle.

"Nothing is overrated in asking a person what he or she is feeling."

"But isn't it obvious enough?" I asked.

What he answered made an even greater mess in my mind.

"Is it really enough?"

"Knowing and understanding the concept of being fine is quite difficult to explain, you know why?" He added.

I didn't respond, but I'm positive he knows what I'm dying to ask.

"Because people don't like to admit their weakness? Insecurities? Probably. But didn't you ever think that it may be because of how people crave for assurance?"

"It's a natural human necessity." I stated.

"It is." I heard a slight rustle on his end. He probably shrugged or changed his position. Nonetheless, he continued, "But you're not entirely correct. It's not a necessity. It's a choice."

"What?"

"This is becoming philosophical, but whatever." He cleared his throat as if he was preparing a lengthy speech of some kind.

Better not be.

"I like to know how people are really feeling because it doesn't just assure the person, but also myself. Choosing to consider your actual state allows you not only to validate your pain, as it also enables the person to understand, not merely know, his or her problem."

I clutched my head. My headache was worsening.

"You're losing me here."

The annoying caller chuckled.

"Let me ask you this. If you keep your pain to yourself, is it yours or not?"

"It's mine?"

"Yes, it is. But if I ask about it, is it still yours?"

"I…don't think so."

He made a sound similar to that of a buzzer. The one that signals you're incorrect.

"Nope. It's still yours, it's just that you chose to acknowledge rather than to question yourself on your doubts. In addition to that, you're hindering yourself from succumbing to your fears…

To put it simply, I asked you if you're okay, because I wanted to know if you can share the burden of your own problem by comprehending what it really is."

Once again, my mind was blown. I remained silent because I couldn't find the right thing to say.

"Now, are you okay?"

"I'm…not." I quietly replied.

"That means you understand it's severity and your admittance opens up an opportunity for courage."

"You're ready to face your fears now, because you're not limiting it anymore, rather you're pushing it forward, right in the clear space. If you had said yes, I would have guessed your reluctance to welcome your struggles."

With everything he said, my eyes never wandered from the artwork in front of me.

As time passed and as his words became louder, the image I once envisioned in the white canvas became clearer once again.

The wide field of flowers. A garden of emotions. That was what I desired to portray in that blankness.

And yet, my wavering hands failed to accomplish even a fraction of it.

What was I running away from during that time?

As my mind became clouded with questions, his voice began to light it up with serene assurance.

"You knew what the problem was all along, you were just forcibly trying to hide it. Maybe it's time for you to take a step forward and reach out to it."

Tears pooled in my eyes. Threatening to fall by each passing second. I thought that was it, but he's Ross.

He knows when it's not enough.

"Also, I called you because I want you to know that I'm here to welcome it alongside you."

And when it actually feels enough.