I could feel her this way. I could see her in a way I never had before, like every fiber in her being was radiating gold; she was enclosed in a halo of good feelings – the ones that give you the willies starting at the top of your spine sending chills down to your tailbone. I let out an exasperated sigh and reached out to touch her but pulled my hand down at the last second, scared to ruin the moment. “The world is different this way, I miss it. With you, everything seems like it will be okay, even though some days it feels like it won’t.” She looked up at me, her irises swirling in every direction, all different colors, I could no longer distinguish what color they had originally been.

            Green maybe? Like the sea. Not like the sea you are used to – the commercialized, trashy, sea water that seems to have a gray shield over the exterior, full of people’s souvenirs and left over food. No, green like the sea with no land in sight, the only thing being you, the boat, and sea life. When all you can hear is the slight pounding of the front of the boat against the waves and it’s almost as if your heart and all of your surroundings are in sync with the pounding; everything afraid to disturb the peace. This green had to be the color they once were, the sight of which immediately made me feel secure. She made me feel secure.

***

            They were watching him through a window where they could see him, but he had no idea they were there; one of those trick mirrors you see on every cop investigation show. The taller of the two sighed and rubbed his temples, “So, what’s the matter with him? Are we just going to stand here and watch?”

            “Head of security said he could be dangerous. No one knows what’s going through his head. His family didn’t even turn him in, he kept asking people if they knew her and someone just walked him right in here.” He checked his watch before looking up at his colleague, “Now listen, Drew, listen. This is just a procedural patient, nothing out of the blue. Stop worrying. Go do your rounds.” He lovingly tapped Drew on the back and grabbed his clipboard from the mirror’s sill, and went to check on his own patients.

            However, Drew didn’t go to do his rounds, not just yet. He waited outside the mirror and watched the man who was enclosed in the room. It seemed like he was talking to someone; his hands flailed like he was telling the most exciting story to date. In an instant, he was screaming.

***

            “Don’t leave me! You don’t get to leave me!” I was shouting so loud and with such force it felt like my vocal chords were about to snap. Her irises stopped swirling and she slowly started to fade. The floor’s tile started swirling like a snake; the way it was moving was as if it had somewhere to be. Every time I looked to a different spot on the floor, the direction changed. The route followed one path, to me. “Where are you! I need you! I know that it’s coming!” This was always the worst part. The lights were so bright I felt like I was on an operating table.

            The light was so strong even with my eyes shut, I couldn’t keep out the rays. Just then it hit me, where am I? I thought to myself. I was in an unfamiliar surrounding –I reached to my behind to see what I was lying on. A bed, but this is not mine. A sheer sheet of plastic over the bed. This is a hospital. I screamed out for her as the light started to consume me.

***

Drew walked up to the mirror hours after he had witnessed the patient’s outburst. The doctor that had asked him to come back to the scene approached him carefully, “What you witnessed earlier, we believe, was a crash from an LSD trip.”

            “I’ve seen people on stuff like that before, I mean, I grew up in the 70’s, but I’ve never seen someone act like that before. That was,” he sighed, “traumatic? Looking at the distress he’s in, I can’t imagine being him.” He watched the patient stare intently at the texture of the popcorn ceiling.

            “The 70’s was almost 50 years ago. The drugs your Pops took were nothing like they are now.” The doctor had no more to say it seemed as he watched the patient, studying him. Drew was peculiarly drawn to the state of this patient’s mind. It was no secret to his colleagues that his father had been a recovering addict before he relapsed and passed away. The way he was watching the patient earlier…He was watching him talk to someone, but who? His father used to say the drugs would resurface memories of his mother, like she was in the room with them. He wanted to know.

Drew’s father had struggled with drug abuse for years, nothing like meth or crack cocaine. However, the drugs he did do were enough to alter the man Drew thought he knew. In their small, one story home, there was no privacy. Drew could smell the weed sneaking in from under the door frame before he even knew what weed was. It didn’t take him long to find out. Growing up in the 70’s, drugs were everywhere. The putrid smell was the first thing Drew woke up to in the morning and the last thing he fell asleep to at night. It was the height of the hippie movement and the height of recreational hallucinogen use, and Drew’s father was no odd-man-out to the consumption.

            Drew thought the drug use was normal; it was the only thing he had been raised to know. When his father’s mind started deteriorating, it was too late for Drew to even begin to save him. Alzheimer’s is a nasty disease. It strips away the parts of you that make you you. The deepest darkest secrets one may have had are no longer secrets — they can’t be if even the holder of their knowledge can’t remember them.

            The drugs mixed with the disease were the worst years. Drew’s father could no longer remember who his own children were. The only thing his father could remember towards the end was the love of his life, Drew’s mother. She passed years before Drew’s his father showed any signs of the disease. His father would blurt out her name at random times, “Susan! Baby!”

            The day his father started weeping because he could no longer remember the feel of her touch, Drew tried to help. He dedicated his life trying to make his father remember the life he once had. Even with the Alzheimer’s, his father’s body depended on the drug use it had been sustaining on for the last 30+ years. No day could successfully start without a tab or a rip of a bong. It hurt Drew to aid his father with the intake, but when his father was in these high state of minds, he could remember what he once could not.

            His father would have strenuous conversations with the wall or the stool before Drew came to the realization his father must be talking to his mother; there was no one else who lit up his face quite like her. They would talk for hours, and even though Drew couldn’t see her he could feel her. It helped his father. He began to remember things he didn’t once before. He would often mutter about the time the family went to the beach or visited his own father’s house.

            The drug consumption may have killed his father before the Alzheimer’s unleashed its total wrath. Drew didn’t care. The drugs helped his father remember, which is all he ever wanted. His father wasn’t the same after his mother died, and the drugs made it so she never left. Drew felt the same pain for this patient as he did his father. Drew didn’t know what he could do, but maybe he could help this patient in ways he could never help his father.

 “Normal trips don’t usually end like that do they? Someone brought him hours ago, he’s crashed, woken up, and still seems to be on something.”

            The doctor cleared his throat, Drew knew an explanation was coming, “Very rarely when people are addicted to hallucinogens they can develop a disorder known as Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder, or HPPD, for short. In nurse language, a permanent acid trip. Everyday he wakes up and lives the cycle over, from coming up on the drug, to the peak, and inevitably, the crash. Who knows what’s going on in there anymore, not me, that’s for sure. He won’t talk to any one of us – says we have a red aura around us.”

            Drew said a silent fuck you to the doctor for his snotty comments, no wonder the man didn’t want him around. This doctor had no compassion for what the patient was going through. Drew knew he could help, maybe. He knew the man had a loss, he knew it. He saw his father in this man, the excited story telling, just like his father.

***

            “What are you doing up there?” She was looking down at me from the ceiling. I don’t know how she got up there, I was just glad she was back. Her gold aura made the room feel better, warmer, safer. Even in the lucid light, her presence felt like my favorite summer day with her. We drove 45 minutes to the closest beach upstate. It was a Tuesday so the beach wasn’t crowded, other than the locals going on their afternoon strolls. We set out her favorite beach blanket: it was circular – she claimed the wind had less of a chance of blowing it away in this shape. I wasn’t sure about that but I never wanted to ruin the way her eyes lit up when she thought she was right – and it read “Life’s Good” across the middle with a stick figure, giving us a thumb’s up as if to say, “The sun’s out! The waves are nice! Live your life!” I decided I would take Mr. Stick’s advice. We spent the day tanning and playing in the ocean. There was nothing out of the ordinary, that’s why it was my favorite. When she was around everything felt ordinary, like I was exactly where I should’ve been, all the fate in the world had led me to her and the ordinary feelings she gave me.

            When she died, a piece of me died too. I can never admit it to myself, but she is dead. Even though she’s here, she’s not really here. I speak to her, I look at her, I feel her. But I am not dumb and I’m not crazy, I know she’s not here. I just want to hold on to the piece of her that is. I started taking drugs after she died, a lot of them. It turns out if you take a lot at once, or some in a short amount of time it can really fuck you up. I hear the doctors talk, I know I’m stuck like this. But sometimes I wonder, would that be so bad? I could spend everyday of the rest of my life with her. I would never have to go back to work, shower, iron my clothes, ever again. I could spend every day telling her about my future, dreams, fears. I don’t want to live a life without her and now I don’t have to imagine that day, she’s here forever. Kind of.

            I heard the door swing open and watched as a nurse entered the room. I registered him through my trip goggles – a name I created for my sense of people, their aura’s. It was weird I felt like I had a superpower. I could sense if I liked someone; they immediately entered the room with a color. (If they immediately entered the room with a color I could understand how I would feel towards them.) Gold was the best, obviously. Red was a standout red flag. My brain was telling me “Do not mess with them!” The other colors varied from green to purple but they seemed more like moods to me, not distinguished personalities. Red and gold were clear to me though, they had not given me any reason to think otherwise. My brain registered this nurse had an aura that shrouded him in gold. He looked like a god. I let him enter. I pointed to the bed I had been lying on that currently looked like a race car to me. I wanted to go for a ride, but decided this wasn’t the time.

***

Drew thought the patient would’ve been terrified, but he wasn’t. He was in control of the situation. He motioned for Drew to sit and Drew did as was asked of him. Sitting on the bed with a patient staring up at him felt strange. It was supposed to be the other way around. Drew started talking, unsure of what to say, “I’m Drew, I’m a nurse here -”

The patient had held a hand up, interrupting him, “Where’s here?”

“At the hospital.”

“Where’s the hospital?”

“Uh, I was asked not to disclose that information just to avoid any more, uh, attacks.” Drew was afraid he had said the wrong thing.

“Interesting. So, does everyone think I’m crazy? I’m starting to think I am. I know what’s wrong with me.” The patient hung his head low like he was ashamed of what people thought. He popped back up to hear the answer, unable to sit still.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, I think you’ve suffered a loss.”

“A loss?” His voice shook ever so slightly. “What do you know about me?”

“Honestly, I know nothing about you, I didn’t even read your file. You just remind me of my father.”

He scoffed, “I have a million thoughts per minute going through my mind but I can only express so much.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. Who were you talking to yesterday? You don’t have to be afraid, I’m not going to tell on you or alert the mental ward, I’m just a man having a conversation with another.”

The patient looked at, Drew, bewildered but promptly answered, “My dead girlfriend.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss. I lost my father a few years ago, I know how you must be feeling. It’s hard to lose someone. Do you talk everyday?”

“Ever since I’ve been in this state of mind, yeah. She’s here, I can talk to her, it’s like she never left at all.” His voice trailed off. He looked into the corner and smiled.

            “Is she here now?” Drew faced the corner that the patient was looking toward and waved. Although he couldn’t see anything, he knew playing along would allow the patient to feel secure.

            The patient’s eyes grew bigger than they already were, almost the size of baseballs. “Can you see her? I knew you could. You have the same aura as her – gold. You must all be the same, powerful sorts.”

            Drew stuttered not wanting to answer wrong and scare him, “I can’t necessarily see her, but I can feel her. I know she’s here.”

            “Oh, well that’s too bad. She’s really hot.” He grinned so large you could see his molars. “I guess that’s one perk, she’s mine and just mine! Ha-ha…I guess.”

            “Do you know why you’re here, besides her?” Drew gestured to the same corner he had waved to before.

            “I’ve heard the doctor’s talk, but I don’t wake up and remember. I wake up to her and to the walls spinning, and the floor coming after me. I only know if I’m told that day. I come to my senses. If I’m not told, I don’t know. I guess I don’t know. But when I’m told how this happened, I remember more of her. I want to remember. I want to be told everyday of her and our story, I’m afraid I’m going to lose that. If I stay like this, I’m going to see her but not remember her. If I snap out of this, she’ll just be gone.” The patient started to weep.

            “While you’re here, I can help you remember. It will help you cope. I used to read stories to my father about him and my mom. Maybe it will help. I can try.” Drew’s eyes welled, he thought of his father and how Drew would recount stories of his mother for hours just to see his dad’s expression when he started to remember her.

            Drew wanted to help and was going to do everything possible to do so, but he had never seen anyone in this frame of mind. He thought helping this patient remember his girlfriend might be the last thing he remembers.

            Diseases or disorders of any sort are brutal. Drew had dealt with the worst of the worst. It would tear this man apart to forget the one thing that continually reoccurred every day.

            “Every day? Will you? Then maybe one day when I’m out of this head space, I’ll be able to continue. Maybe.”

            “Every day.” Drew got up to shake his hand, confirming the deal between the two. And with that, the patient started to scream. He was crashing.

***

            She’s here. So is he, but I don’t mind. He helps me remember her and the part of my life I lost. He tells me that he comes every day, but that’s hard to believe because I never remember him. He’s a stranger, but she tells me he’s safe, so I never mind the company. I’m with her every day, I feel her, see her, talk to her. I remember things about her every day that I once before did not. The sea green eyes. Long, brunette hair. Even longer legs. More comes back to me the longer she is gone.