Christmas Eve

An early winter morning, I woke up with a strange thought of “Something’s need happen before December 31.” The weather was cold, and the morning atmosphere promised a perfect day. I am looking at myself in the mirror “Why it doesn’t come off?” I ask myself. I was staring at my own complexion when suddenly, my phone rang. I got it and an unfamiliar voice greeted: “Good morning, Doc.” I wondered who it was. It was a deep husky voice with a special accent. Never heard of this voice before... an old man, I suppose.

“Good morning, who is this?” I responded.

“I’m the new patient who called you last week. I scheduled myself for a therapy today. I am just confirming my appointment. Sorry for the bother to call” I pick up myself and pulls back my confidence.

“Ah, yes! Mr. Zoldyck.” I responded with a smile.

The man on the other line hung up after I confirm his appointment. That phone call made me think a lot.

A few minutes later I forget about it. I had breakfast and went to my clinic. The smell of Christmas eve celebration was hovering in the air. The weather is cold. I was sitting beside the window of my office, still asking myself random philosophical questions that I should not be. I am a psychological therapist. I am here to help people get over from their traumas, but why can’t I help myself?

A knock from the door knock me out from my undying thoughts.

“Come in” I said, facing my chair at the table.

“Good morning, Doc” a man in his 70’s entered the room.

“Ah, good morning sir. Merry Christmas to you” I greeted. He greets back as I get my folder and led him to the therapy room.

“Ah, sir Atsumu Zoldyck. The one who called earlier?” I smiled and he just nodded.

I ask him about different things like his age, what he do in life, from small things diving deeper but all he answers is smile and a nod.

“What a coincidence, we had a same name” I am trying to build the rapport between us to make him more comfortable in the environment.

“Atsumu Zoldyck is a common name in Japan if you would ask me. There are over 30,000 living in Japan that has that name” he chuckled.

I also chuckled as a response. I remember how my mom used to tell me stories about how common my name is. She is a Japanese.

Because of that conversation, our session becomes smooth and comforting. Not just my patient, but also me.

I look at the clock, it is already passed by the allotted time for this session, but we have not even reach halfway of his concerns. Honestly, this kind of people are hardest to deal with. It really takes time for them to open about their burden.

“Is it already time for our session?” He asked. He noticed me looking at the clock.

“We can proceed. You’re my last patient for today.” I smiled again.

“Don’t you want to come home early to celebrate the eve with your family?” he asked.

“I’m living alone so it’s fine. How about you, sir? Why book an appointment during Christmas Eve when you can wait after Christmas?” I responded with another question.

“Ah, I just feel like I should see you today. I am also alone right now in our house; I have three children. But I will stop by at my daughter’s apartment later to celebrate. My other two sons are abroad. The middle is at Madrid

majoring economics while the third is in Japan majoring animation, my wife visited him in Japan. All of them are very bright and loving kids. They never forgot to call me and my wife almost every day.” he answered.

“Why didn’t you come with your wife to visit him?” I followed up a question.

“My son wants me to have a rest. I just finished the last series of my book; it takes 20 years before I finished that” he openly answers.

“You’re a writer?” I asked.

“Yes. I am a former psychotherapist, but I quit my job after realizing that I want to pursue my dream” He responded with a satisfied gaze in his eyes. “and that was the best decision I ever made in my life.

“What a coincidence, I also aspire to be a writer when I was a kid. What’s your book all about?” I continue to dive in.

“It’s about a teenager who lost his family in a car accident when he was 18. It was his birthday and his dad gave him a car as a gift, he was also a psychotherapist and teach his son all the bright and sunrise of being in his profession, hoping that the boy would follow his dreams and have the title neurosurgeon he failed to achieve. He wanted his son to enter med school, but the boy wanted to be a writer. Him and his father argued about it and because of his frustration, the boy lashed out and run away to have a drink with his friends. He drowns himself in alcohol, ranting how controlling and manipulative his father is. He rants about how messed up his life, how his mom neglect him when he was a child to make her lesson plan for her students, how his sister brings her boyfriend to have sex whenever their parents aren’t home and how nagy she is to him just because she’s older, how his younger brother draw things on his assignments he works for weeks.” The man chuckled.

“He cursed and wish them to be vanished. Saying things such as he does not need them, he is in the right age, etc. What a spoiled privileged boy, I say. He leaves his friend’s house at 7pm, drunk. His friends advised him to stay, but because of his arrogance, he insisted to drive himself home. When his sister hears his engine coming, they gathered his family at the dining area to surprise him with his favorite food. Unfortunately for the boy, he fell asleep while parking his car and accidentally accelerates it towards the house. The car slams at the wall and rams their house’s dining area. The boy woke up and found himself at the hospital. He has been unconscious for 2weeks. He did not remember what happened and lash out at the police officers who keeps asking him questions to the point that the doctors need to pin him down. When he finally calms himself, one of the female officers explains what happened to his family. His father and younger brother got themselves stuck under the boy’s car, his mother got hit by falling debris from the house, and for his sister, she is the least critical and almost survive. She only has a dislocated ankle but when she founds out that she lost her baby, she freaks out and got a heart attack. The boy did not know that his sister is pregnant. They’re about to tell him when he got home.” The old man continued to narrate the content of his books.

“His case got delivered in court, but no one press charges against him, so it got dismissed. Sooner, the boy found out that all the assets of his parents and his sister’s savings will be left on him. After founding out about the massive bequest and heritage his parents left on him, his friends stop by at their house trying to convince him to throw a party. Some of them even said that this is the life he wanted, no family that can command him of his actions. The boy becomes miserable. He party all day and all night using the what his family left on him, he failed almost all of his subject in his last term, and he didn’t bother to take up entrance exams for college applications. He thought he did those to forgot. Until one day, he dreamt of his dad. He talked to him about life and why does he want him to be in the field of psychology like him. That strikes him, wholesome. After that night, he picks up himself and give his reflection a pep talk in the mirror. He will continue his studies and he will be a psychotherapist like his dad. He studies day and night, trying to fight the demons who blame him for his family’s death. He diverse his attention to the thought of “when I become a

psychotherapist, I can finally console myself and free myself from sadness and self-loath”. But it did not end there. He graduated with flying colors and finally got a license and earn his master’s degree. He becomes a light to his patients who destroyed by darkness, he saves those people who drowned from a dark past, he finally fulfilled his promise to his dad’s grave. He become a psychotherapist. But little did he know, every life he saves from the dark past, he pit himself on drowning. He decided that he wanted to end his life before his 33rd birthday, January 1. He promised himself to be a good person for the last 7 days before his birthday. It’s December 24th, he sent his most prized possessions to the people who’s dear to him, and he decided to accept a last two patient he will console. A 17-year-old girl who suffers from fantasy prone personality disorder because she wants to escape the reality of having an abusing household, and a man with a same name as him.” The old man stopped his story there and I just remembered all the things I have been through with my family.

When I was a teenager, I always dreamt of being a writer. I always imagine myself as a rich uncle who spoils his nieces and nephews. I always imagine myself spoiling my parents. But then, I messed up. I become too privileged, my confidence boasts up the ceiling and believe that I can do it without them. If I just control my anger over some stupid things, they’ll still alive. But I didn’t. That’s why I lost them and now I’m paying the price, I don’t deserve to live.

My tears are running and sucking out my eyeballs when the old man held my chin up, like what my mom used to do when I’m frustrated. “You need to forgive yourself, dear. Your healing will not be an instant but it’s all worth it. You’ll find the happiness you’ve been longing for a very long time. You’ll have a family that loves you whole heartedly, a beautiful wife with a kind heart, three children who will serves as your light. You’ll become a world-renowned writer and will retire with the best life experience. Don’t do it.”

My tears run harder. The old man hugged me. “Forgive yourself. Life so young and full of hope... it cut down in its shining prime, the death of you will never be the answer. Continue living, laugh, play, sing… don’t listen to the death knell ring. Forgive yourself.” He wipes the tears on my eyes use his hands to close it.

All the happy memories with my family flashed back. From the day that I was born, my parents are smiling big time as they held me in their arms, my sister in her uniform who refuse to go to school because he wants to see me immediately. To my 3rd and 7th birthday where they throw a huge party for me. To the first time my dad spank me with his slippers, to the first time my mom pinch my ears for being a brat in the grocery store, to the first time me and my sister got into a fight because of some random cartoon character. When my younger brother was born, we were so happy to have him. Until the scenarios in my 18th birthday…

“It’s not your fault, dear” my mom held up my chin and smile.

My dad pokes my forehead mouthing the words “you made it”.

“I’m forgiving you, Tsumu” My sister chuckles while holding a baby.

“I love you, Tsumtsum.” my younger brother hugged me.

Then there he is, my 18 years old self.

“I am no longer you. The one who you need to kill is me, and not yourself. We all commit mistakes, some created a huge damage for us and the people we love, but life never stops there.” He said.

I open my eyes and the old man vanished. I look for him around the clinic but he’s not there anymore. He is me. I am the only one who can allow myself be forgiven.