Chapter Text
I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes. - e.e. cummings
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The cream-colored chrysanthemums sitting in Adashino’s office contained shades of butterscotch and honey threaded through its petals. He had received them from a young woman tending a sidewalk stand earlier that mid-afternoon. She was folding her stand when Adashino passed by her. The air had been thick with impending rain when she stopped him, holding a bundle wrapped in parchment paper.
“Take these,” she offered, extending her arm. There was pollen on her fingertips. “Fresh from my garden.”
Adashino stepped forward to purchase them, a quick exchange of money, which he already had in-hand, but she declined.
“Promise me you’ll put them somewhere nice,” she told him. “I have no place for them. They would have been thrown away after tonight.”
Now the chrysanthemums were left forgotten on his desk, folded within the parchment paper to keep the stems from drying. It was a magnificent desk, skillfully crafted and carved from rosewood imported from India and uniquely crafted for a wealthy family in the Northern regions of the country. A rare collectible containing a rich and rumored haunted history. A weathered patina finish from the desk gleamed under the warm natural lighting within his office.
Heavy curtains saturated the office with warm shades of white, creams, and peaches, which blocked the daylight from entering. Adashino parted the curtain softly then, allowing natural cold light from the late-afternoon to filter into the room instead.
Closed windows subdued some patients, making them more relaxed whereas a sunlit room amplified their energy. When it was an ordinary meeting between him and a random visitor, Adashino preferred to keep his windows open.
A month ago, faculty from the psychiatry and behavioral health department where he worked had attended a conference. Renowned Professor Tanyuu Karibusa had been invited as a guest speaker that day. Due to her condition, Tanyuu rarely made public appearances and many in attendance had gone strictly to hear her speak, Adashino included. Though he had not known it at the time, Ginko had also been in attendance as well. One of the faculty members pointed him out to Adashino before the lecture.
“See that student?” his colleague whispered loudly to him alongside the rest of their attending department. “That’s Ginko.”
Adashino was unimpressed. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“He used to be a patient of mine.”
Adashino was stunned. Discussing patients with other people was considered a violation of ethics. “Was that necessary to tell me?” he asked her.
His colleague immediately peddled back, realizing too late the error of what she had done. “I’m surprised to see him still alive, that’s all.”
Suicidal? Adashino wondered, glimpsing at the man sitting a few rows across from them. The auditorium dome caving high above them cast a warm and sullen glow over the audience. There was nothing special about their surroundings. It was traditional auditorium seating. And yet Ginko’s gaze was wandering, almost as if he was enchanted by what was around him.
At some point, Ginko locked eyes with Adashino. Neither one smiled. Adashino had looked away first.
It wasn’t smart to be engaging further on the topic, but Tanyuu still had not come on stage. Adashino was bored. “Was he ill?” he asked.
“Severe case of childhood amnesia. Exhibited signs of psychosis. That’s why he was referred to speak to me,” his colleague explained to him. That made sense. She was one of their residential trauma therapists. “Other than that, I never knew for certain.”
This enigmatic conversation was going nowhere fast, and Adashino was losing patience. “Then why are you surprised to see him here? This is a public event.”
His colleague blinked. “I never heard from him after our last session. One day he stopped coming to see me. That was over a year ago.”
Clearly you must have been so helpful to him. Adashino did his best to roll his eyes in pained exaggeration. The lights in the auditorium suddenly dimmed. The rubber click of crutches against hardwood echoed as Professor Tanyuu Karibusa stepped onto the stage.
The audience stood applauding.
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Ginko knocked on the frame of his office door. It had been purposefully left open. “Dr. Adashino?”
“Ah, Ginko.” Adashino pivoted to face him. “Come in…”
Ginko had his hands splayed on either side of the door frame, paperback book in one hand, and snubbed cigarette in the other. He eyed a trash bin nearby and flicked the half-spent cigarette into it.
“Sorry,” Ginko apologized, adjusting the straps of his backpack, which had slipped off his shoulders and down his back. He tugged the straps securely back onto both shoulders. “Probably should have tossed that sooner.”
Adashino was struck by the intensity of the moment. There was something familiar about it. Something in the way Ginko carried himself. It was as if Adashino had lived the same moment before in some variation or another, but he couldn’t explain when.
There was a long passage of silence where Adashino was consciously aware that he was staring. Not that Ginko noticed. The man seemed acutely taken in by his surroundings. “This place,” he murmured in awe taking in every corner of the room.
Adashino gave him a scrutinizing once over. During the conference, Adashino assumed Ginko had been much older given his silver hair, but the auditorium had been dimly lit and Adashino hadn’t been paying close attention to him at the time. In the carefully controlled lighting of his office, Adashino could see his hair was more white like starlight than silver. It was alarming. Disarming even.
“Is this still a good time to meet?” Ginko asked, turning to face him.
“Yeah.” Adashino tilted his chin up, scraped the pads of his fingers over his jaw. “Of course,” he nodded tiredly, blinking as if to wake himself up and snap out of it. He consciously made the effort not to stare before he crossed a line that was perceived as anything other than professional.
He gestured towards an armchair intended for patients, but welcome to any visitor. It was a nice piece of furniture. Painted satin die-cast aluminum frame, smoked stained oak and upholstered in the finest Italian leather. “Make yourself comfortable over there. Take a seat.”
Adashino wheeled his chair from behind his desk and collapsed across it. Their meeting was meant to be casual but Adashino intended to squeeze every opportunity to learn more about Ginko while he was here. Not only was he a supposed student at the local university here but he was also an ex-patient. He would have a case file somewhere. The fact his colleague broke ethics to tell him was perplexing in itself.
There was something mysteriously unsettling about Ginko. Eerily familiar, even. And Adashino was determined to figure out why that was. Off-the-record. “Are you thinking about signing up for my neuropsychology class at the university here?”
Ginko propped his backpack against the armchair. “Probably not. This thing is I’m here studying abroad for only another semester,” he said. “I checked your class. It’s already full.”
“It’s a popular class,” Adashino said. “Not that I'm biased.”
Ginko nodded and rested his chin on his hand. “I figured.”
Adashino let the silence hang while Ginko fixated on the wall past him. Eventually, Adashino looked around, following his gaze.
“Those flowers on your desk,” Ginko said. “They’re nice.”
“You think so?” Adashino said, not terribly interested in talking about flowers, but if it was what Ginko wanted to talk about then it was in his best interest to go along with it. “A woman was selling them on the corner earlier today.”
“For your wife?” Ginko asked.
Adashino sent Ginko a narrowed look
“Girlfriend,” Ginko tried again.
There was a long pause during which Adashino stared at him. Then he lowered his head.
“Boyfriend?”
Adashino raised his head, unamused, which was a stark contrast to the cool and amused look Ginko had in his eyes. Adashino smiled, though he was certain it did not reach his eyes. “If you came here today to ask me to fit you into my class next semester, I hope you’re keeping your expectations low.”
Ginko laughed, but his laugh wasn’t pleasant. “To be honest I’m here today because I think I may be able to help you.”
“You’re here to help me.” Adashino murmured, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Is that right?”
Despite the claim, Ginko did not look terribly concerned. “Have you been noticing anything strange? Something you can’t explain. A feeling that you’ve lived through a present situation before, even.”
“A feeling of déjà vu,” Adashino concluded. “Most people experience it at least once in their lifetime.”
Ginko shook his head. “This is more than that. It’s as if you remembered a part of a dream you had and never remembered until that moment. You can be in a place you’ve never been before or meet someone that you’ve never seen before and it triggers a memory. Little parallels like that. You know what I mean?”
Adashino nodded. “I take it you are experiencing these triggers frequently,” he said.
“It’s happening right now,” Ginko said.
Adashino gave him a weak smile. “Maybe what you’re recalling is a short term memory linked to a long term memory,” he said.
Ginko stared directly at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Why don’t you tell me why you wanted to see me today,” Adashino said. “I want to hear more about how you’re going to help me.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you now,” Ginko told him. “You’re skeptical about anything I’m saying as it is.”
Adashino decided to turn it into a challenge. A bet: “Try me.”
Ginko smirked, but his expression remained wary. “You’re being followed by something very few people can see.”
Adashino made a mental note of this. Hallucinations, check.
“You can’t see them,” Ginko realized. He leaned into the armchair, arched his spine around the backrest and stared at the ceiling. “I thought since...” his voice drifted. “I wonder what attracts them to you.”
Elbows across his knees, Adashino leaned forward, propping his head in his hands. Delusions. Paranoia. It could be temporal lobe epilepsy or some sort of undiagnosed psychosis, maybe. He needed more information. “Describe them to me. Can you only see them or can you hear them too?”
“Depends.” Ginko seemed to have come to some sort of self-realization. He dipped his head forward briefly and the swing of his hair hid his eyes for a moment, until he looked back up, coolheaded and poised. “Coming here was a mistake.”
“What makes you say that?”
The silence between them remained warm and good-natured. “You already believe I’m crazy,” Ginko said.
“No I don’t.” A number of explanations could explain what was happening. It was possible Ginko had an undiagnosed brain tumor for instance. That could explain everything from the hallucinations to these beliefs that were not based in reality to these grandiose delusions that Ginko was still here to help Adashino. “Let me ask you. Have you ever had an MRI or CT scan?”
Ginko stared at him, cold and unamused. “I’m not crazy.”
“I never said you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Adashino scratched the nape of his neck. “Alright.” He ruffled his hands through his unkempt hair and sighed. “You said I’m being followed. Tell me what is following me.”
“Whatever it is exists somewhere between life and death. It’s hard to describe what it is exactly.”
“Okay.” Adashino was genuinely fascinated. “Tell me more.”
“It’s life in its purest form,” Ginko continued.
“That doesn’t sound bad,” Adashino said.
“It’s not good for you to have them following you like this,” Ginko told him. His expression was flat. “They can make you unwell even if that’s not their intention. Their effects can still be dangerous.”
Adashino was willing to go along with this. “How do I stop them then.”
Ginko visibly relaxed then and retrieved a steel cigarette case from his backpack. This was a textbook addictive reflex if Adashino had ever seen one.
“Don’t even think about it,” Adashino abruptly stopped him. “The last thing I need is for you to set off the fire alarms here.”
Ginko made an exasperated noise and pulled the collar of his flannel higher. He snapped the case shut. “This isn’t helping,” he said.
Adashino did not quite follow what Ginko was trying to say so he remained quiet. Who is supposed to be helping who now?
Ginko nodded apologetically then, regret tangled up with exhaustion and satisfaction. He took an unlit cigarette in his fingers, shrugged one strap of his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door. “Maybe I should go.”
“No, wait.” Adashino couldn’t let Ginko leave like this. “The hell with it.” Cool sunlight streamed in from the open nearby window. He grabbed the velvet curtain behind him, getting to his feet. Peach silk lined the cream velvet curtain. He pinned it behind a brass hook. Stale rainwater still stained the glass. When Adashino unlatched the panels and yanked them open, the damp October air blew in a cool breeze. Noises of traffic and people and plain old city life came with it.
“Sit.” Adashino directed Ginko to come away from the door. “Smoke here. Do whatever it is you need to do.”
There was a flicker of light in Ginko’s eyes. “Thanks.”
Ginko turned his attention to the chrysanthemums on his desk when he passed. He ran his fingers across the butterscotch and honey tips. A petal fluttered to the carpeted floor. Ginko rubbed his forehead with one hand when he sat in his chair. “You have nice things in here,” he said.
Adashino leaned across his desk and flipped the switch on the lamp. It cast the room in amber light. His eyes squinted against the warm incandescent light. “It’s a hobby,” he shrugged.
“Interior decorating?”
Adashino snorted. “Collecting.”
“What else do you collect?”
“Anything I want.”
Ginko lit a cigarette and inhaled, breathing out smoke, which dissipated into the open air. “These things I see…” he paused. There was a brief flick of his eyes as he turned his attention out the window. Headlights of cars crossed the rain-soaked streets below.
Adashino waited and watched as Ginko tugged the sleeve of his flannel. He was patient when he needed to be.
“...I can’t ever seem to get away,” Ginko murmured.
“Have you considered these things you see may be hallucinations.”
“When I was younger,” Ginko reflected. “They’re not.”
“Let’s talk about that.” Adashino may not get another opening like this again. “About when you were younger.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Can’t recall?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s fine. Tell me what you can remember.”
Ginko flicked his cigarette against the window sill and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Waking up in an orphanage.”
“That’s where you grew up?”
“Not always, no. I was always being sent between there and foster homes.”
Adashino reached for a notepad in this drawer.
Ginko was quick to notice. “Taking notes?”
”A few.”
Ginko took another drag from his cigarette. He stopped talking altogether. It was as if he was reconsidering what he should say next, so Adashino put the notepad face down.
“Is that okay with you?”
“Mhmm.” Ginko seemed indifferent to it.
“Good.” Adashino jotted down the date.
Ginko’s eyebrows raised and he leaned back into his chair. “What did you write?” he asked, genuinely intrigued.
Adashino held his pen, tipping the end of it against his lower lips and grinning wide enough to show teeth. “Nothing important.”
“I see.”
A deep sigh from Adashino broke the intense silence. He kept his eyes wide for some semblance of honesty to show though. “I could recommend you speak to a professional.”
“You’re a professional.”
“I’m not speaking to you now as a professional. This is just us talking. A professional could prescribe you something that might help.”
“I’ve been prescribed everything. Nothing helps.”
Adashino leaned forward with a frown. “You’re not taking anything now?”
Ginko sat a little straighter then looked around as if remembering where he was. “No.”
“That’s fine.” Adashino let his head fall back and closed his eyes. “How are you sleeping at night?”
“Fine.”
The dark circles around Ginko’s eyes said otherwise. Adashino tapped his pen on the clean white pad of paper. Clipped under the pad were prescription slips. He ran his thumb over those and considered something.
Ginko tossed the question back at him. He was leaning forward now, eyes troubled. “How about you?”
Adashino resented that question as he wiped the water from the corners of his eyes with the pad of his thumb, trying to conceal a yawn. “Fine…” another yawn, a palm smearing across his mouth. “Just fine...thank you.”
Ginko adopted a bit of humor and a half-formed smile. “Liar.”
Adashino shrugged, slightly unnerved being under reserved scrutiny like this. “I had a late night,” he admitted. That much was true. “I’d rather we not talk about it anymore.”
“Why not?” Ginko asked. “Are you hiding something?”
Adashino gave him a look. “I want to hear about you.”
“I’m not your patient,” Ginko murmured with keen eyes, cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke. “Like you said we’re just talking.” There was an honest tenor to his voice. He took the cigarette out of his mouth then and his green eyes narrowed, gaze fixed onto a point behind Adashino.
Adashino turned around.
“Hey,” Ginko said, voice soft. “Close your eyes.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you then.” Ginko took a long pull of his cigarette then and blew it in his direction.
“Ginko!” Adashino stamped his foot and made a noise that was something between a squeak mixed with a hacking cough. Smoke hovered in whorls around them. It contained a strange scent. Something herbal and heady. He swatted the smoke around them and grabbed Ginko by the arm, plucked the lit cigarette out of his fingers and threw it out the window. “What the hell?!”
Ginko went still, not even breathing when he locked eyes with Adashino. “At least they’re gone,” he said. “For now.”
Adashino leaned back into his own personal space. “Your hallucinations?”
“They aren’t hallucinations.” Ginko told him solemnly. “Smoke disperses them. Tonight you should be able to rest easy again, but they will be back. I can help teach you how to—”
“This is ridiculous.” Adashino flipped his notepad revealing the prescription slips. He stopped. Inside his office, he kept a limited stock of antidepressants and antianxiety pills. Nothing to ease symptoms of grandiose delusions and hallucinations. Not that he should pass them out to Ginko if he had. He threw the notepad onto his desk.
“You’re in my way. Go over there,” Adashino said forcibly grabbing the chair on either side of Ginko and wheeling him away from the window. Adashino nodded towards an ornate sofa pressed against the far wall. “Lie down. I’m going to bring you something.”
“If you insist,” Ginko said. He did as he was told, lying across the sofa and folding his arms across his chest, head resting back onto the cool leather of the armrest. Eyes were wide open, he watched the ceiling as if enamored by the drywall above him.
“You were at Tanyuu Karibusa’s lecture last month.” Ginko said as Adashino prepared a cool damp cloth and glass of water. “I first noticed them being drawn to you then.”
“Yes. I remember,” Adashino acknowledged. “The lecture, that is. She’s done extensive research on psychosis intervention. I was hoping for the chance to talk to her after her session. Apparently so did everybody else. I never got the chance.”
“I was only there because she asked me to come,” Ginko said.
Adashino was standing over him now, glass of water in one hand and damp cloth in the other. “Tanyuu invited you?”
“I used to be her patient,” Ginko explained. “I would tell her things. She would listen and write them down. Nothing ever changed. Nothing ever got better.”
“Maybe there was nothing wrong with you,” Adashino suggested, kneeling beside him now.
“Or there was nothing she could do,” Ginko admitted.
In the resulting silence, Ginko drew in an unsteady breath.
Adashino warned him next. “I’m going to place this damp towel over your eyes, is that alright?”
Ginko nodded, asking nevertheless. “Why?”
“Think of it as an exercise in sensory deprivation.”
“Go ahead.”
Adashino covered his eyes. “Rest there. Stay here for as long as you like. I have administrative work to get done. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”
Ginko pinched a corner of the damp cloth over his face and lifted it to reveal one eye. “I’m not interrupting you, am I? If I am, I could leave.”
“No.” Adashino insisted. “Stay right there.” He set the glass of water across a sofa table behind him. It would be within reach. “I’ll check in on you later. Water is there for you.”
Ginko glanced at him sidelong, his mouth a tight thin line. He dropped the cloth back over his face and resigned himself to laying there. “What’s in it?”
“Nothing but pure bottled H2O,” Adashino said. “With a few electrolytes.”
“I think I’d rather have a scotch.”
Adashino snorted. “You and me both.”
Ginko went remarkably still then.
Adashino took a step back. “Wait.” He started to drop his hands to his side but brought them forward once again. “Let me fix this for you.”
“Mm’kay,” Ginko murmured, consenting to something he could not know.
Adashino lifted the damp cloth and brushed his fingers through Ginko’s hair, tucking stray white strands past the top of his head. Adashino dropped his hand as quickly as he had raised it along with the damp cloth. “Better?”
Ginko made a low sound in his throat, something like a hum. He tilted his head back when Adashino pulled back. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Adashino snorted. He walked away, positioning himself behind his desk and cracked open his laptop. The screen lit with windows showing him a barrage of unanswered emails and bookmarked research papers. His hands moved swiftly across his laptop keyboard. He closed down everything and opened a fresh tab.
Their department had access to a vast digital array of academic journals and scholarly content. In the search bar, he typed: paranoid schizophrenia.
He scrolled through the many articles and journals that appeared, plenty which he had already read before today. After a while, his computer pinged. A chat window popped up.
eli: let’s get dinner together after work. i still owe you.
adashino: working late. got an unusual case.
eli: mino’s ex-patient?
Adashino tried to play dumb.
adashino: what?
eli: ginko. he's with you now right?
So much for doctor-patient confidentiality. The gossip that spread through this faculty was unreal.
Fingers poised over the keys, Adashino dropped his gaze down to his ankles. He blinked. Ginko had left his backpack here. Reaching his fingers under the haul strap, Adashino placed it in his lap.
Damn, it was heavy.
Despite his better judgment and ignoring every violation of privacy he was about to break, Adashino shamelessly went exploring through it.
It was brimming with books. Mostly textbooks. There was a paperback copy of Gravity’s Rainbow. A leather wallet. On the back of it was a famous Tolkien quote of ‘Not all those who wander are lost.’ There was a pocketknife. Multiple knives. Loose coins. And an unmarked prescription pill bottle that had been filled, which caught Adashino’s attention the most.
Ginko remained on the sofa laying completely still.
Adashino returned his belongings as they were and set the backpack where he found it—except for the prescription bottle. That he tucked under his forearm. He stepped away from his computer then, taking his notepad and leaving the message from Eli unanswered.
He knelt next to Ginko. There was a sudden rush of bitter oranges and sea salt and underneath that, something sweet and smokey, like roasted vanilla beans and juniper.
“Hey,” Adashino spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”
“A little tired,” Ginko replied and he indeed sounded drained, speaking in a barely-there voice. Sensory deprivation tended to make one drowsy.
“That’s to be expected,” Adashino replied. It wasn’t that Ginko had been unmanageable before this, but now that Ginko was prevented from making visual observations and asking questions of his own, Adashino hoped he could get more information out of him. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Go ahead.”
“Earlier you were telling me about these things you can see and hear.”
“That’s right.”
“Do you hear them now?”
“Yes.”
“What do you hear?”
“I suppose…” Damp cloth still draped over his eyes, Ginko raised a hand overhead, rotating his wrist as if trying to describe the sound. “The sound of light. If you can imagine what that could be like, it would be something like it.”
Other than the whir of the heater and the occasional sound of a passing vehicle outside, Adashino heard nothing. “These sounds of light,” he said. “Are they as clear and loud as my voice?”
“Sometimes.”
Adashino backpedaled for a moment. “Do you hear voices too or is it only noise?”
Ginko paused for a beat longer than necessary. “No, I don’t hear voices,” he said, tugging the damp cloth off his face, staring at Adashino with something near criticism in his eyes. He lifted his head slightly. His hair fell back into his eyes. “And I’m not delusional.”
Adashino rocked back on his heels, putting space between them. “But you do see how someone would consider this to be peculiar hallucinatory behavior.”
“I guess.”
“Good,” Adashino said. “Then you’re not that delusional.”
Ginko reached for the glass of water Adashino had given him, but he did not drink it. Instead he rolled the cool side of the glass over his face.
“You said you aren’t taking any medication,” Adashino said.
“That’s right.”
Adashino held out the prescription bottle between them, clasped between his thumb and index finger. “Then explain this.”
Ginko’s eyes darted from the bottle to his backpack, which was where he last left it before turning to Adashino. “Where did you get that?”
Adashino jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Where do you think?”
“It’s not for me,” Ginko said.
“Ah,” Adashino nodded, not believing a word of it. Half-joking, he quipped, “You’re dealing prescriptions then?”
Ginko made a grab for the bottle then, but Adashino’s reflexes were quicker. He held them out of Ginko’s grasp and opened the bottle, spilling a pill into his palm.
“Hey!” Ginko made another snatch for them.
Adashino jumped to his feet. On his desk was a pair of reading glasses. He grabbed them to examine the pill more closely. It wasn’t an antidepressant or any other type of antipsychotic he could recognize.
“It’s arthritis medicine,” Ginko calmly explained then. “For my cat.”
Adashino blinked. Then he laughed, rubbing his face in amused frustration. “You’re kidding.”
Ginko glared while Adashino blushed.
Feeling utterly embarrassed, Adashino bowed his head in a silent apology and placed the prescription bottle on his desk. “Well!” he said, clapping his hands together. “I really should get going along. How would you feel about coming back tomorrow?”
Ginko visibly relaxed. “Would that be okay?”
“I mean...” Adashino was taken by surprise that Ginko would want to return. “Yeah. I have a few appointments in the morning but I’ll be here tomorrow, same time.”
Ginko smiled softly.
Adashino handed him his belongings in return. “And if you still want a seat in my class, I’ll see what I can do to fit you in next semester.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Good. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”