Hattie held an orange peel in her hand, “Micah, this orange is so sour…”
Although the person had disappeared, she could still hear his voice in her ear.
-“Spit it out, drink some water, rinse your mouth, I’ll go get you some candy, only one piece though… Is it tasty? Is your mouth still sour?”
Hattie saw a blurry figure.
When yearning reaches its peak, one not only can “hear” non-existent voices, but also “see” people who have already passed away.
When Micah left, Hattie didn’t cry. She felt a deep pain within her, as if her soul was struggling in the raging fire, but she couldn’t shed a tear. Her eyes were red, unable to open due to the pain. She felt she would never cry again, until she ate this sour and bitter orange. The tears were stimulated and a drop fell on the back of her hand, causing her fingers to tremble.
She felt like she wasn’t eating an orange, but the most bitter medicine in the world, a residue in her throat that she couldn’t get rid of. She cried in a stifled manner, her heart felt constricted, so painful… she wanted to tear open her chest and release the pain.
Feeling her distress, Coco sat quietly by her side. There was an unhidden expression of concern in its eyes. Seeing Hattie becoming more and more upset, Coco began to fret. It paced back and forth in front of her, licking her hand one moment, then nuzzling her, and resting its chin on her knee.
Hattie lowered her head and met Coco’s eyes. She said, “Coco, what will you do if I’m not here anymore?”
Coco whimpered twice, seemingly responding to Hattie’s words.
Hattie turned on all the lights in the house. She wanted to take care of herself and Coco.
She went into the kitchen and found it full of food, probably bought by the students.
Hattie cooked some vegetables and beef. The beef wasn’t seasoned; it was simply boiled. She gave half to Coco and mixed the other half with the vegetables for a cold dish. It didn’t taste very good, but it was edible.
If Micah were here, he would have made braised beef, tender and flavorful.
After dinner and washing the dishes, Hattie and Coco were inseparable. She was too tired to take Coco for a walk outside.
She didn’t forget Micah’s instructions; she needed to soak her feet when they felt cold. There was a foot bath with a built-in massager in the house, but she found the machine massage too painful. Micah would massage her feet for her every night.
When Micah massaged her feet, she would massage his shoulders. They took care of each other.
After soaking her feet, Hattie returned to the bedroom. Coco slept on the carpet next to the bed. The room was too dark, and Hattie was afraid. But if it was too bright, she couldn’t sleep. So, she turned on a table lamp and said, “Goodnight” to Coco by the foot of the bed.
Losing Micah was sudden. Hattie had lived alone before, but once she got used to relying on someone, losing them made it difficult to adapt to the loneliness.
…
Spring went and autumn came, year after year, and in the blink of an eye, Hattie turned seventy. Coco, too, had become an old dog at thirteen. Micah had been gone for two years. The bougainvillea growing on his grave flourished. It was so red that it was visible from far away. Hattie wondered if Micah could see it from below and if it made him happy.
In the past, whenever Hattie had nothing to do, she would take Coco to Micah’s grave to visit him. But as she aged, with her legs no longer as strong, she only went once every two or three months.
On December 24th, Christmas Eve, Hattie held Coco’s leash in one hand and a basket in the other, walking and stopping along the way. She had no new clothes for the New Year. The clothes she wore and the accessories she had were all chosen by Micah, but still fit her perfectly two years later.
In the basket were incense, paper money, and a pink rose. She took out the rose and placed it near the bougainvillea. Then, she lit the incense and watched the thin blue smoke rise.
“Micah, time passes so quickly. I’m already seventy. I thought my frail body would be the first to go, but I’ve outlived everyone. It’s just me and Coco now.”
“Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. There won’t be any fireworks in the city, so it will be much quieter this year.”
“The space next to you has been empty for a long time. It won’t be long before I have to lie down next to you.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself, just like you told me to. But the fish soup I make is never as delicious as yours. I’ve been drinking it for so many years, with the same fish, the same bones, but it just doesn’t taste as good…”
“As people age, their memories remain sharp… I haven’t developed dementia like Harry. But honestly… I’m really afraid of forgetting you. Every night before I go to sleep, I have to think about you repeatedly and look at your photos, fearing that I’ll forget you the next day.”
“My legs still ache during cold weather. As people age, the biggest feeling is that the body isn’t as strong. Even though my memory hasn’t declined, my hearing isn’t as good. I can’t hear well, and alarm clocks are no longer effective. Sometimes, I have to wait for Coco to wake me up.” Mentioning Coco, Hattie couldn’t help but smile.
“Coco is so well-behaved.”
“I went to see my parents yesterday and didn’t bring anything. I was still carrying the basket in my mouth the whole way. People passing by praised it for being obedient and sensible…”
Upon hearing Hattie’s praise, Coco barked “woof”, wagging its tail happily.
Hattie reached over and stroked Coco’s fluffy head.
“It’s our child. So obedient and sensible. I can’t leave it alone here, so you may have to wait for me a little longer…”
Hattie took out a bowl of fish soup and a fish from the basket and placed the fish at the grave. The fish soup was still warm in the thermos. Every time she visited Micah, she would bring something for him to eat, sometimes food, sometimes candy. Nearby, there were stray cats, which would eat whatever she left at the gravesite, so nothing went to waste.
After drinking the fish soup, she put the thermos back in the basket. She patted Coco’s back, and with great effort, she stood up, knowing Coco understood that it was time to leave. It obediently carried the basket in its mouth.
After taking a few steps, Hattie’s partially deaf ear suddenly caught a sound.
“ttie.”
She turned around but saw nothing. She looked at Micah’s name on the gravestone and the photo engraved inside.
“Micah, Merry Christmas!”
After saying that, Hattie took Coco home. Some students wanted to visit her on Christmas Eve, but she declined. It was a time for being with family and children, not for visiting an old woman like her.
In a group chat, the students decided to bring gifts to Hattie on Christmas Day instead.
In the two years since Micah’s passing, Hattie had been taken care of by the students. They treated her like their own mother, buying groceries for her when they noticed she had none, and stocking her house with nutritional supplements.
On Christmas Eve, Hattie received several phone calls in a row. Her hearing wasn’t good, so she had bought a hearing aid, and she had to turn the volume up to the maximum to hear clearly, even then, she still had to wear reading glasses to read text messages.
She couldn’t hear what others were saying, so she replied with “um-hm” and “okay,” and she was never wrong.
There were no fireworks, and Christmas Eve was indeed very quiet. Hattie placed sparklers on the balcony and had the TV tuned to the program. The host shouted, “Merry Christmas” to the audience.
On a day that should have been worth celebrating, Hattie inexplicably felt a pain in her chest. She pressed her chest and returned to the bedroom. She opened the medical kit and searched for the medication she needed. Her hands were shaking so much that when she opened a bottle, some pills fell to the ground, a pile of white pills. She looked at what should have been two but realized it was only one.
Suddenly, Hattie understood… she might be leaving today.
She leaned against the cabinet and unsteadily made her way to the balcony. Her breathing became increasingly rapid. The sharp pain in her chest had lessened, as if she was being supported to complete her final act.
The orange tree had yielded a lot of fruit this year, so sour that no one wanted to eat them. The oranges had fallen from the tree and rotted away under the sofa.
Using all her strength, Hattie climbed onto the sofa, half-closing her eyes as she gazed at Coco by her side, “Coco, help me get a sparkler and a lighter. Can you tell where they are?”
Hattie pointed to a box not far from her.
Coco obediently went over, brought a sparkler to Hattie, and then searched for the lighter.
Hattie only had the strength to light the sparkler, but it took all her effort to do so. The sparkler burst into light in her hand, igniting the dusk in her eyes.
She just kept staring… staring…
Although there were no fireworks outside, Hattie heard a voice. She looked up and saw Micah slowly walking towards her, as if light had broken through the clouds.