Story teller

It was a nice summer evening. That time of the day when the sun almost sat down, painting the sky in varieties of orange, red, pink and even purple colors. Lanterns started to turn on. The heat of the day was gone and the streets were filled with fresh cool air.

Emily was walking to the restaurant, where she had a dinner planned. She was a young girl, in her mid-twenty, beautiful. Some said that she had such a pretty face on a pretty neck. Emily was aware of her beauty; she used to turn heads when she entered the room. But she wasn’t just about the look. You can’t make people like you by just having a pretty face. She knew that. Emily wasn’t one of those mean girls with perfect appearance; she also was kind, generous, loving, intelligent and witty.

The girl was slowly walking with the wind in her, a bit curly hair. And as she walked closer to the restaurant, Paris was changing. The night was falling on the city but, instead of sinking in the dark, Paris was lighting up.

Emily entered “Cafe de la Paix”. She came in with a breath of wind. Confidently walking towards the table where he was already waiting for her. His name was Harold, but Emily often called him Harry. He was an Englishman, couple years older than Emily; tall, well built, good looking fellow. He had eyes that you could drown in. He had a deep voice; it was a pleasure to listen to him, even if he’d talk some nonsense. Harry was smart, kind-hearted and had a good sense of humor.

Emily and Harold were old friends. They had known each other for about 6 years. They met in London. Emily came there to study at the college, and Harry was a senior there. The two were going to the same drama club. Harry was one of the musicians, playing the drums. Emily got there to act. They got acquainted during the first week of rehearsing a new play. And soon enough become good friends.

After Harry’s graduation they were still hanging out together for a year, but then he left London because of his new work. But Harold and Emily were still keeping in touch with each other.

The girl came to the table and finally met a friend of hers, which she hadn’t seen for four years. He got up to hug her:

“Good evening, Harold”, she said with a touch of a smile on her lips.

“Hello, mate”, he said with his strong English accent.

They sat down. Their dinner was in a small, cozy café. Little round tables were just enough for two. A dim light was softened their faces.

“So, same lips red, same eyes blue, same white shirt, you haven’t changed at all”, said Harry smiling.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

They were talking like they’ve never been apart from each other. Like all those years didn’t exist. They were talking about all sort of things, refreshing their moments together, telling stories they hadn’t told before. The waiter came and interrupted their conversation. Old friends made an order and afterward, have forgotten the previous topic; they shared a moment of silence. But it wasn’t that kind of awkward silence when no one knows what to say when you can cut the tension with a knife. No, it was the complete opposite. It was a comfortable silence, the one which you can share with your closest friends or significant other.

“So what have you been up to lately?” Emily asked suddenly.

“Oh, well, I’ve quit my job”, casually answered Harry.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, I quit a few weeks ago.”

“But why?” asked Emily with sadness in her voice.

“I didn’t like it, I’ve got sick of it, I didn’t like what I was doing and I, probably, burnt down. So I decided to follow my dream, at the end of the day you should have high hopes for a living, right?”, he said with a grin.

“Ok, I perfectly understand you. And what is your high hope? What are you going to do?” softly asked Emily.

“I’ve decided to risk it all and make music. Do you remember that I was a drummer?”

“Yeah, of course, I do. I’m really happy for you, you’re gonna make it, I’ll support you”, she said with a wide, warm smile.

As Emily and Harry were talking about everything in the world, about changing jobs and cities, about holidays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, English accents, Spain, France, Italy, walnuts and the color orange. They concluded that algebra angered them, opera sickened them, Charlie Chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies. Candle on their table was burning out, and darkness was enfolding them.

Suddenly Emily asked: “Have you ever thought what if all your life is just imagination?”

“Sorry? What do you mean?” asked Harold.

“I mean, what if your whole life is just in your head? What if you created everything that you know, and nothing really exists?” Emily explained passionately.

“So, you’re saying that I don’t exist and you’ve just created me in your head?”

“Yeah, basically. Is it weird?”

“Oh, yes, it’s bizarre”, he thought about something for a moment and then asked her – “but why you think so? Don’t get me wrong, as a piece of your mind (he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice), I just want to understand it.”

“Our reality is subjective, we all seeing it in our own ways and we can’t prove with complete certainty, that we see everything that surrounds us, and we also can’t prove that everything that we see is really out there. Our mind and perception are tricky, they can fool us, and they do. So how can I be fully confident about something in this world?” Emily clarified.

“Ok, I see your point. But how can you created so much stuff, and what about things that you don’t know but they exist, have you thought about that?”

“Yes, I have”, she sharply answered.

“And what are your thoughts on it?”

“Well, what if things that I know nothing about are just not there?”

“That what I thought”, he laughed.

“Ok, ok, laugh if you want. But sometimes I think about it a lot, and I’m not sure if it’s all real” Emily said it softly and confused.

“Hey, don’t be so concerned. I believe you. Have you created this world to feel some control?” Harry asked with interest, but he sounded a bit like a psychiatrist.

“No, I don’t know. I can’t destroy it if I want, if that what you mean.” The girl quietly answered.

“Ok, I’m just trying to understand”, he said it with that annoying, calm tone of psychiatrist again.

“Well, all I’m saying is that I sometimes think about it, maybe too much, and yes, maybe I sometimes don’t sure if everything is real, but it’s okay, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine.” Said Emily defensively. “I was just wondering if you had some similar thoughts. And you hadn’t, now I know, let’s change the topic, shall we?” said the girl, and smiled.

“Well, then we gotta get away from here”, suggested Harry. He got up and gave her a hand in the way like he was inviting her on the biggest adventure in their lives. Emily gladly took his invite, and they left the restaurant.

The two walked out on the streets of Paris. Sun had already sat down and it was dark. So the city of lights was in its full glory. All street lights were lightened up and gave a nice warm atmosphere. The buildings were highlighted with pleasant yellow light. Small outdoors cafés were full of people, that were talking, seemed to be, in all the languages of the world. Soft, light jazz was flowing through the street. As they kept walking the saw it, the biggest, brightest spot, it illuminated everything around, it was one of the most recognizable views on the planet, it was the symbol, the sign, the light itself, it was The Eiffel Tower. Paris is luminous. And The Eiffel Tower was the most beautiful, the brightest part of all lights in the city.

“Stunning view, right?” asked Emily.

“Yes, it is magnificent.” quietly said Harry.

“Come on, we need to get closer.” Said Emily, grabbed his hand and run.

They came to the tower, sat on the grass right in front of it and enjoyed the view, without saying a word. They were almost alone there. A few couples here and there and that’s all. Despite being in the city of love this moment wasn’t romantic

for them. It was the moment of calmness, safeness, happiness. They were living in that exact moment, at that exact minute, enjoying every second of it. The couple sat on the middle of the field for about two hours. Talking about everything and sitting in silence, then remembering about something they kept talking. And most importantly they were having a time of their lives.

“It’s getting late, I probably should take off now”, said Emily, looking on her watch.

“Yeah, you’re right, I’ll catch a cab for you”, suggested Harry.

“A cab? We aren’t in London, there are no cabs here” replied Emily laughing.

“Oh, right, but you get what I mean.”

They got up and walked to the road, slowly, because they didn’t want to say goodbye. But soon enough Harry caught the taxi.

“How long do you plan to stay in Paris?” asked Emily looking right in Harry’s eyes.

“I dunno”, he said quickly, “but even if we won’t meet again in Paris, we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here,” Harry said it and hugged Emily, tightly. “Goodbye.”

“See ya!” smiling said Emily and sat into the taxi.

She was tired so she started to fall asleep; suddenly girl saw a bright white light, and everything stopped.

Emily woke up in a hospital room. When she opened her eyes for a couple of seconds it was too bright to see. The girl looked around; she was alone in that room. She wasn’t in pain, she had no bruises or scratches, she was fine. A nurse came in and when she saw Emily, she was shocked.

“Hey, hello, what’s wrong with me? Why am I here?” asked Emily in a raspy voice, her throat was dry.

“Oh my god, you’re awake”, the nurse said in surprise and went out.

“Yeah, great, thanks for your answer, it was helpful”, said Emily quietly.

After a minute a man came in. He was tall, gray hair touched his temples, thin glasses were sliding off his nose, he was wearing a white medical gown.

“Hello Emily, it’s nice to see that you’re awake”, he said with a New York accent, “I’m your doctor Mr. Richardson”

“Hello”, said Emily, “my doctor? But why, what is wrong with me?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

“No, I don’t, I wouldn’t ask you if I knew”, she said. Her voice sounded annoyed and confused and still raspy.

“You were in a coma”, sharply said doctor.

“What? Is it a joke, am I being pranked or something?” almost screaming said Emily.

“No, you aren’t pranked, you were in a coma for almost two years”, said doctor calmly.

“Oh my god, what am I in a movie or something. It’s insane!”

“What the last thing that you remember?” asked Dr. Richardson.

“Umm… I… I was in Paris?... Yeah, I was in Paris with Harry, we said goodbye, I sat in a taxi and then a bright light and I woke up here”, slowly and quietly.

“Emily you never were in Europe and in Paris.”

“In Europe? Wait where am I then?”

“In New York City, born and raised here”, he answered.

“Okay, well it's interesting”, Emily mumbled.

“I’ll be right back”, said the doctor and left the room.

“Okay.” She got up, sat on the edge of the bed, put her elbows on her knees and rested her face in her hands. “It isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t real…” she was swaying back and forth and mumbling it over and over again. She stopped for a minute and had something like a moment of clarity, “I was right, I was right, I knew something was wrong, I did make it all up, it was just my mind, I was right” she also mumbled it, but now she was more confident.

“Alright, we need to do some tests with you, and then if everything okay you’re free to go after a couple of days”, Dr. Richardson walked in and informed Emily.

“Okay, I’m ready”, she replied obediently.

After a week in the hospital, she was free. The girl was fine physically, but not mentally. Emily walked out of the hospital in lower Manhattan. It was the begging of September; City still had that hot summerlike weather, fall hadn’t begun yet. It was a bit windy and the wind reminded everyone that summer had gone to its end. Emily was wearing the same white shirt, black skinny jeans, and black chelsea boots. Her long, a bit curly, fair hair was tangling in the wind and then was gracefully fluttering in the wind. She walked through the concrete jungle of the New York City. Buildings were so tall that you couldn’t see it top if you put your head up. The sun was shining brightly and the skyscrapers, made from glass, were catching the sunlight and reflecting it, returning the light even brighter than it was before. Streets were very loud, there are sirens all around and people were buzzing around, it was the voice of the City. After an hour and a half of walking, Emily got to Central Park. It was much quieter and less crowded there. She walked through, still green, parkways into the depth of the park. She was wandering through the park alleys, not noticing anyone. Enjoying the silence she was thinking and mumbling something.

“I was right, all that time… it wasn’t real, I made it up. It isn’t real, is it? How can I prove it?” girl was whispering it to herself, “What if it’s just a prison in my mind? No, I’m not crazy!” she said the last sentence much louder, like if she was persuading herself. “But now I can’t tell if this is real, I don’t know! Now I am not sure about reality, what if it’s another mind trick played by my wicked brain?” her voice was trembling, she was confused and scared.

“Harry? Is he even real? Or he was right when he said that he’s just a piece of my mind. He said “we should meet again somewhere far away from there”, yeah, we should.” Saying it her voice calmed a little bit and she felt certainty at least for a short moment. Her thoughts were interrupted, someone bumped into her.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” said the man who bumped into her. Emily didn’t raise her head; the first thing that she heard was deep voice and strong English accent. When she looked up, she saw a young, good looking fellow, it was Harry. “Please say something, are you okay?” his voice sounded worried.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, Emily replied, she was shocked.

“Okay then, sorry again. Take care!” Said Harry and kept running.

“Harry?” She said out loud, and just kept walking, but he turned around when heard his name. “It was him, isn’t he? Now I am not sure… What if I’m still sleeping? I’m not sure if all of it is real.”