• I was on the streets, followed by some fans, on the way to my van back to the city. My manager was already quite bored with my waving goodbye. He hurried me into the van. Before I was in, I recognized the town nutcase, a ‘crazy’ person named Daniel who knew nothing but to smile and to talk gibberish. I had once come across him, and he stared at me like I was a miracle. I had this warm feeling toward him; I knew he was no harm, so I befriended him. I taught him my name, how to shake hands. I couldn’t leave that province without saying goodbye. I got out of the van, to my manager’s displeasure. I was more than surprised to find Daniel running to me. He embraced me! He was whispering things I could barely understand. But I caught my name in those phrases. After much dispute, my manager allowed me to stay in the province to take care of Daniel. I grew fond of him. If I could help make him better I might even fall in love. After all, it seems he loves me…

    * * * * *

    I checked Daniel into the nearest mental hospital right after verifying its reliability. There he had his own confinement room, but nevertheless it was a complete, furnished room. And I visited everyday, helped feed him, conversed with him. Spent a lot of time with him. I didn’t mind the load; I thought it was about time I did something for others aside from sending money to churches and organizations. Not that it was easy; people would advise me not to continue with my intention, for Daniel was not the common type of person. “Really, miss. I would stop if I were you.” Well to be honest I have been hearing more than enough of that. Daniel was very nice to me, and he could behave well. I understood the reality of the situation. But luckily I hadn’t forgotten what I learned from Nursing in college; it was just that I didn’t find a job easily so I fell back into singing, my true passion. I brought music into that bleak room of Daniel’s, and he was very interested in my singing. And he improved drastically in about six weeks. We were good friends now, but it seemed more than that. He was possessive, especially when it came to spending quality time. But I appreciated the attention. I sang daily, practicing actually for my next concert in a few weeks. Daniel sometimes sang along, even danced along. The nurses would gawk at us, at me, in awe. And so would the people we passed when we took our weekly stroll to the spring, just meters from the church. They were surprised at Daniel’s development — his movements were refined, he spoke little, but when he did it was so sweet, so romantic…

    * * * * *

    “Just say it. Just a proper introduction.” I was so tense that morning at the main hall, watching Daniel’s expression through a one-way mirror with crossed fingers. If he made a clear, coherent self-introduction, he would be declared “A-okay”. There were about ten or twenty of them lined up, waiting for their turn to get out of the institution. But Daniel seemed lost again, like I had done nothing, like we had never met, like the only things he knew were to smile and to talk gibberish. I was so disappointed, leaving yet another thousand dollars at the nurses’ desk for the therapy. I had halted my career to help him and all of a sudden, his sanity evaporates! I spent so much…

    That afternoon I ignored Daniel. He followed me around the room, tried to embrace me, but I shooed him away. An hour passed. It was long and dragging. I locked myself in the bathroom to attempt writing a song. My manager called twice: the first time to ask if I was coming back for practice or recording, and the second to remind me of the month’s concert back at the city. Practice? I invested all my time and energy to help this Daniel! What had I spent for myself aside from this shelter and my medication? Nothing! No new books, no CD’s, no clothes! Not anything to even pamper my sweet tooth! Why hadn’t it worked? I was startled by loud rapping at the door. I reached for the lock and stood against the door. Daniel called me. I threatened to leave. I didn’t want to become any more frustrated. There was so much work to be done aside from him. Many trivial things to focus on. Rhymes, choreography, make-up artists. I am a singer! These trivial things must come first! I at last made up my mind to confront him. I unbolted the door. He sat against the opposite wall, waiting. A sort of pity came over me, but I had emotions to air. He looked up imploringly at me, for forgiveness? A look so innocent. He knew nothing. Why must I go on? But I did without a second thought. “Daniel,” I said firmly, “why didn’t you say even a word earlier at the psychiatrist’s office? You would have been declared free of your affliction. However, you did nothing, after everything I gave up for you!” I turned to leave. I had gone three steps when he tugged at the ends of my skirt. I craned my head for another glance at him. There, tearful. “Let me go! You waste my time! That’s all you do!” I yelled. He immediately released my clothes, and I stormed out of the hospital…

    I could find no excuse for any of my irrational actions. Perhaps I was too hard on him. That was the best of his capacity. But I’ve seen him do better. He learned fast, was very polite, and almost always reacted in everyone’s best intentions. Or at least, and especially, mine. Maybe I was his medicine. Maybe my presence cured him. Or was the wine getting to my head? It was a little before ten. I paid for the wine, left the club, and, though reluctantly, headed to the institution. There was much work left to be done. The deadlines seemed to be getting stricter. I wondered vaguely whether Daniel had eaten since I left. It was getting late; I hastened my steps. I would apologize, the first thing I’d do once I see him. I searched his room, the main hall, the dining hall — no sign of him! If I were lucky, he may have gone back to his garbage can, his previous residence, a few blocks from the bus terminal. But of course the doctors wouldn’t let him out unless he was with me. I then sighted a light through the crack at the restroom door. I approached. I felt my heart skip two or three beats, my jaw fell open, and lo! Daniel was unconscious on the floor, his left wrist was deeply slit by cutter and bleeding profusely. Pools of blood stained the tiles. In a split second, I rushed him to the emergency room. Faster than that, I was up in the chapel, muttering prayers of the rosary, various novenas. I could see myself kneeling there, sweating, crying. Desperate for any miracle to save my Daniel...

    It was around midnight. I was alone in the chapel when I awoke. I crossed myself, shameful that in the Lord’s house had I fallen asleep. There was still this guilt feeding off of my chest, gloomy and heavy. It was my fault, all my fault. I — o Heaven forbid — killed my Daniel! Or was he alive? Was he saved? Would God really grant the desires of a sinner? This Earth offers nothing but questions! I sighed. I saw upon me a shadow of some form; it was the doctor. He offered news but spoke so very quickly. Was it a strategy, to trade ignorance for suffering? Let this suffering spare my Daniel. Let me know! The doctor led me into Daniel’s room. I held my breath. Was he alive? The cut lost him more than three pints of blood — it was so deep it paralyzed his left hand. He was in a coma...

    Strangely, the doctor asked me to remain in the room. Doesn’t he know I caused this entire scenario? However, I obliged. I witnessed machines pumping blood into my Daniel’s system, and a few drops leaking out through the cut. The stitches weren’t of much help to seal the cut as it was too deep. Tears came to my eyes as I approached the bed. And to the doctor’s, a sparkle. What had he seen in this tragedy? My Daniel, in a coma! He may not ever wake up! I was so guilty. I wanted to take back all that I had said, to repair my wrongs with a hug. But a pained look on his face, it warned me away. It was all my fault. He was probably very upset at me. He didn’t let me down, I let him down! Had I not been that selfish, that arrogant to admit we needed another chance, a bit more time, would it all have been different? If I had set aside my intentions to enhance my public image, would he be awake right now? I began hating showbiz for what it really was. It well rewarded false efforts to help others. It was not worth seeing my Daniel slipping away, drop by drop! The doctor flashed a smile and exited the room. How strange, I wish to comment, but my Daniel...

    * * * * *

    I had lost track of the days that I sat only on this stool beside my Daniel’s bed. Two certainties gripped my mind on those dull moments: I was able to write at least five “sorry” songs for him in my misery, and my manager happened to schedule a music video recording session next week without notifying me that he would do so beforehand (it would go with the concert, I assumed; it would happen two weeks after the MV recording). But these things remained far from my mind. My only concern now was Daniel. I took with me the cutter, which now hid in the drawer over which I wrote my latest songs. It remained unwashed after the doctor checked it for allergens or bacteria that may infect the cut. Daniel’s blood stained it well. If, if, if! If I could whip it out, induce a slit on my own wrist, and follow my Daniel where he was right now! I had commitments? To heck with commitments. Everything was so tedious! But there were really few things that mattered. A smile. A word of comfort. A hug...

    * * * * *

    My manager called again. He said he was ready to pick me up, “preferably by the bus terminal, the nearest point to the city”. I mentioned I was at the hospital. I said I would be ready in an hour. I was lying, lying so badly, for the first time again. I couldn’t believe it was a week already! And what of my Daniel? Once I return to the city I may never go back to the province again. So much confusion. Must I leave or can I stay? It all came down to this one question: Which do I love more? My career — or my Daniel?...

    How could I go now? My hour was almost up. I dared not move. The stillness, the silence — everything in that room meant the world! Begged me not to leave! Voices at the back of my head were debating whether I should walk out the door or not. Before I knew it several knocks reached my ears. I froze. Once I stand! It was out of the question! Great fear kept me seated; I wanted no longer to betray my own conscience. And then, and then — a hand nearly devoid of strength took hold of my arm. “Please. . .stay.” I heard, I heard! It was his voice, his sweet voice, though it was weak and hoarse. My reaction was almost automatic. I sprang to my feet, reached over to embrace him, tightly now. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I could only repeat these words and nothing more. There was much left to be explained, so much more to be expressed, the delicate, “I love you,” and the all-healing “I promise I will never. . .again.” But for now, it was most proper to keep silent. My throat was so dry I could barely breathe, but it was alright. Balancing on my left foot to keep my entire weight off him, maybe it was the best and the most right thing I had done all my life, to hug my Daniel. I felt his faint heartbeat, his weak breathing. The warmth of his body. He was alive! Tears were again called to me. I knew he was alive. That was all I needed to know...

    * * * * *

    The trip to the studio was lengthy because of both the traffic and the distance of the province to the city. All because I had chosen to live in the province. It didn’t matter. I forgot my handbag and all its contents at the hospital, but I should be thankful. My celphone might be ringing its speakers out, courtesy of my manager. It was customary for him to shout with all his might at me for my lateness, and for my disheveled appearance. I never really cared about the face or the hair; if it weren’t for my assistants, I’d have always looked destitute. But looks, they are more than deceiving: they tell you the truth of one’s distinct personality. I smiled. I resolved, from then on, that I would always return to Daniel. To him my looks didn’t matter. For him, I would not be gone for more than a day. I knew it now. I was his cure, his happiness. His life. That made me proud. Proud that he was safe now. Just sleeping, dreaming of our first kiss, and my promises before I walked out to meet my fetcher. In a few more moments, we arrived at the studio. The set was decorated just as my manager described it to me. Everything was ready. Several assistants helped me into my costume. My head felt so light. My love and career are going smoothly. I didn’t even notice the intro that my fuming manager initiated the yelling ceremonies. I could only smile. The typical setting. Several times I lost the beat, for most of the sounds that rang in my ears were Daniel’s words, “Please stay”. Please stay. I promised him just a day, and I’d be back. I was distracted at that point. But the singer in me was at her best, singing gaily with all her love for Daniel…

    It was about the last chorus. I was astonished that all of a sudden the music faded and the lights flickered, dimmed and eventually busted. I was in the middle of a wonderful dance routine, and I was about to spin all around the stage for the burst of music in the ending. I lost my voice, and my body was numb. My arms, crossed over my chest, stiffened by and by. But I couldn’t feel them. My eyes were fixed on a faint light, a faint light that resembled an unclear yet familiar figure, right in front of me. It was so hard and yet I wanted to scream the word that I centered my life on but had nothing to do with music. Daniel! I blinked, but the ‘soul’ was still there. I must have been so shaken, I thought, to be imagining this wildly. But at last he spoke. The ‘soul’ embraced me (a chillingly wonderful experience) and disappeared. I blacked out right after. The next thing I knew, my manager was fanning my face vigorously with a magazine, and many other people ran around the set trying to get me water. I wasn’t able to recall what had happened. I got up and smoothed my clothes. I felt a tiny object slip out of my hands. It fell to the floor with a soft tinkle. It was — really, was it? — a golden ring, gleaming under the spotlight. Engraved in it were the words, “I love you”. I picked it up. The memory, it flooded back to me: how Daniel had repeated to me that he was alright, he forgave me, he understood; how he thanked me for everything, and he loved me; how he seemed to have found an inner peace, shown on that vibrant smile on his ethereal face; how he calmed my own self with that spiritual hug. I gazed at the ring. It was from Daniel, I know it, I stand up for it! I wore it on my left finger. That way I may never forget…

    Five minutes into savoring the ring’s serenity, Daniel’s doctor burst through the set. “Ma’am, there is news I must relate to you! You didn’t answer your celphone. I came here because you must know. . .Daniel is dead.” “W-what?” I asked. The doctor caught his breath, straightened his stance, said it formally now. “He died the moment you left the room.” I was so shocked. But ‘shock’, or even ‘apprehension’, was an understatement. It was only to be expected. The appearance, of course, already exposed the truth, but which I was too blind for. The forgiveness, the ring. Of course. Why hadn’t I known?...

    * * * * *

    The following day I was at his wake, a rose on my left hand and a drenched handkerchief in the other. The priest went about the usual rites, but I heard nothing. I was utterly defeated by a force I had long repressed, a guilt I shoved off with “I’m doing this for your good”. But I had done nothing, really. He did everything for me. I recalled the moment we met, and how he drew me to him, charmed me with his smile. I was nudged by a seatmate; we were singing The Lord’s Prayer. I couldn’t stand there beside that coffin within which is someone I wish not to see there. I had done nothing, nothing but deprive him of my time; it could have been everything he lived for, and I took it away. I wept in my chair, poor child, dear God! She was forsaken by love! Neglected by sorrow, deserted by emotion. She was devoid of feeling, sight or hope. I am devoid. Of feeling, of sight, or hope.

    I pretended to lose consciousness that they may let me be. Only after an hour, when they had all gone, did I rise to my knees. And now, the ground over which Daniel’s body lay I caress the grass, feel for any proof that he was, or wasn’t, there; on the sweet grass that will shelter his lifeless body for centuries to come.

    * * * * *

    Come another season, I found no reason to keep dramatizing my over-exaggerated life any longer. I tore my contracts, shred them into powder-like particles and mailed them to my manager. “Manage someone else,” I wrote, “someone who wants just physical love, and money.” Funny that I didn’t receive any mail from my relatives, who were all for my singing, thereafter. Not that it mattered; they left me too, a long time ago, or was it I again who left them? Blame me, world, for all your impurities, for I am not perfect. Blame me for everything inadequate, in no way; but you do! Besieged by grief, I returned never to the city, never set foot outside of the province.

    * * * * *

    How love drove me mad! “Please stay,” you said. And I left. Thank you for never hating me, Daniel! I swear it, this time, I shall never leave you now. Daniel, I love you! And by your grave I shall sit forever until Heaven takes pity, until Heaven takes me, to you. Oh Daniel, if you could see me now, writing so endlessly in a worn diary from childhood, writing about you. Ah and I see the daily postal worker dropping by, handing me a letter? From my manager. “Rachel, be practical! You can’t live there for long. You don’t have many clothes. You have only one credit card with you. Come back to the city. Your family is worrying about you.” If I know, he is just lying to get me out of your dear presence and into the spotlight again. Daniel it almost blinded me, that damned spotlight! It almost robbed me of your image. I saw you in the light, and you saved me, Daniel. Why wasn’t I able to save you! We could be together, now, if I weren’t that unrelenting. Oh my, I sure am hungry. But I swore I’d never leave! Daniel do you hear me?! Daniel! Daniel! I love you! Oh, a nurse from the hospital, walking my way! I recall her. She wrote the bill for your treatment. What treatment, the one that didn’t work? Ha! ‘Treatment’, they say. I could have saved you. I could have saved you. I could have been with you forever…

    * * * * *

    Note: from Rachel’s Manager

    I chanced upon Rachel in the hospital. The doctor who took care of her Daniel reported to me that she was “unable to take the loss”. She hadn’t eaten since his death, and only sustained herself by water from a spring a few minutes from the church and the hospital. As I feared, she lost her mind, writing grief on a diary in that cold graveyard. I recovered only this among her belongings. She didn’t recognize me, or the diary, which she was quick to give away.

    “Unable to take the loss.” Rachel was a strong woman, but even death was too much. I ask that you understand the severity of the situation. Please, please, do not believe that she was just an irresponsible, lovesick girl. I made this mistake ahead of you, and I warn you not to follow suit. I failed to see that her Daniel was more than the local nutcase, or that their bond was stronger than just puppy love. They were, I believe, united by Divine Grace, and torn apart by human weakness. Errors abound in judgment. So judge well, friends. I implore you to see without looking, and feel without condemning, a soul who, for all we know, lies lost and looking for any sense of belonging.

    Rachel was one such soul, but what a remarkable one too. It is my deepest regret that I am one of those who caused her the pain that led to this tragedy. If you read her diary with wonder, or fractiousness, I beg your pardon. Pardon only, if not understanding. Two beautiful souls have been lost to indifference already.

    PS.
    If you hold with you an original copy of her diary, the music video she mentioned is attached, in a CD labeled, “Daniel’s Embrace”. It contains the actual apparition of Daniel’s soul; it had been captured by the camera operator who had an open third eye and immediately knew what was going on.