Part IV

Signs. It was what had struck my mind. 'I must be seeing signs!' I thought to myself and shook my head as I thought two seconds later that what I was seeing was just me trying to recuperate. I guess I was trying desperately to adjust. As I sat upright on the hospital bed, I felt like I was a five year old all over again and because I thought myself as a five year old child, I felt completely unorthodox and uncoordinated in regards to my mind trying to process itself. I mean, I did get out of a near-death experience.

I don't know if I could make out that that very day was a good day or a bad day. It was that difficult to distinguish. I kept seeing that number 23 on that jar the same way I had seen the ad in the train station. I looked around to see if there was anything else that was as spellbinding as that particular jar. Nothing. I eventually made my way to the clock on top of the doorway. For some reason, its ticking had me nervous.

Suddenly the door opened and through my horror, it was my mom embracing me tightly. I rolled my eyes for what seemed to be the millionth time today.

"Oh sweetheart...are you alright?" she sobbed while holding my head in her arms.

"Yes, mom I'm fine." I muttered. As my face was stuffed on her forearm.

"Your dad's coming. He's also been worried. I told you time and time again, we should always pick you up from the train station instead of you going on by yourself." she cried.

"And I'm guessing that will make me an independent person how?" I bit back a bit harshly.

"I'm just saying that it's safer." she pointed out.

I had enough. For that I said. "I'm old enough to look after myself."

"And look where it's gotten you. In a hospital."

The doctor came back in and looked as if he were trying to make his mind up about something. He looked as if he had not put two and two together. I could tell that about people and this particular doctor looked a bit perplexed as to what he had just found out. That was what made me worried.

"From what you've been saying constantly from the moment you rose up from the ground, you're feeling quite well, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes." The truth was I was more than quite well. I felt like I wanted to jump and do something.

"Any chest pains? Shoulder pains from the gunshot?" he asked.

"No…" I flexed my arms again and waved them in an L-position and put them up and down.

"Are you sure you don't feel any pain right now?" he said as he sat down and put on a strict manner matter-of-factly.

"Yes. Do you take any drugs?"

"No"

"No!"

It was rather amusing that my mom and me said the same response at the same time but I rather paid attention to the annoying doctor for some reason than laugh. The doctor continued to absentmindedly flip over a random folder in his hands.

"Have…" the doctor began. "you had any hospitalizations for illness?"

"About a couple of months ago, he had the flu." My mom pointed out and of course, I had to put my hand on my temples. I had to explain now.

"Obviously that doesn't label me as an indestructible person. But I mean who doesn't get the flu nowadays?" I asked the doctor who continued to look at me as if I was the nuisance and not my mother.

"The problem is I don't have any syringes in this hospital until tomorrow unfortunately and I apologize for that. I can sense your frustration about the medical attention you're receiving but the fact of the matter is you were just shot in an area that many would not recover from so quickly and somehow you did. It disappoints me that this hospital has run out of syringes. You can go home now. But I want to see you back here so that we can conduct some tests because truthfully…" he sat back and crossed his arms.

"I see such rapid healing as abnormal."

I was unimpressed by the doctor's so-called speech and turned to my mom. "When's dad coming so we can go now?"

Thirty-five minutes had gone by and it was the usual questions being given to me everytime. The police were the most concerned and the most suspicious. I had told them the same response that I had not seen the guy anywhere. The news crew was the most exciting part that I participated in. I gave them my account to what happened and it was implied that the incident was not only going to be on television but in newspapers as well. I could not help but feel a bit humbled by that information.

My dad had finally arrived to pick my mom and me up and I was most glad to see him. He had taken off work for me and that meant something. He had put my arm on my 'undamaged' shoulder and said: "Glad you're not hurt." It was the basic response a parent should give to their child every once in a while and I felt a hint of gratitude for that. My dad was the serious one and one I tried so hard to impress. He was the main person I wanted to be.

"Let him go and be a man." my dad would say and he definitely said it again this time.

I had gotten to the gym after convincing my mom for over a half hour and told my dad he could go back to work so that he can make up for the time has lost. I had told them adamantly: "I'm fine. I promise." As I passed through the corridor where the bottom half of the walls were full of lockers, I made my way to the bathroom area where I examined my shoulder. My eyes widened with shock as the wound where the bullet entered and exited was almost completely gone. All that stayed was a closed scar.

"That's so weird..." I said.

In order to get over my surprise at what just happened to me, I dressed myself in a white T-shirt and black sweatpants and I went to go work out as a way to clear my mind and relieve some stress. 'I couldn't possibly heal that fast in a matter of hours', I had thought to myself. I tried to get rid of that event as hard as I could. The more I thought about what had happened to me, the stranger I felt. As I got to the bench press area where I had the most trouble performing heavy sets, I really wanted to try it. For the only reason, I saw the girl working out her biceps with dumbbells. I had always seen this girl working out and I was always shy to talk to her, let alone be around her.

They say there's always going to be the most beautiful woman in the world going for her equal or more than her equal. In other words, the man would have to better in regards to mental and physical attributes. Whether those qualities are better than anyone else would be enough for the said ideal woman. Me, on the other hand, was never the strongest nor the smartest but that didn't mean I didn't fantasize at times to be so. The girl in question, the one that caught my eye, was right next to the dumbbell section which was adjacent to the bench press area.

I fought realism with fantasy. In my fantasy, I actually had the courage to ask this girl out and she had said yes. Unfortunately, fantasy was always dominated by reality. I was smart enough to know that this girl who seemed to be the same age as me would never go out with a guy like me. The young woman was caramel-skinned, had lime-green eyes, and a great smile. Her body was beyond perfection and judging by the amount of time she spends in the gym, she did keep herself in good shape. She was curvy of course in certain areas and was taller than most other girls. For being so wanted, I forfeited ever talking to her.

After I was done coming back to reality, I went back to the bench pressing. I had not even started lifting. The truth was I was still thinking about that girl when I was lying underneath the barbell and began to put my fingers around the bar. I took the bar with the weights off its place and began to lower it down and up, down and up, closing my eyes, I repeated the process several times when I heard commotion all around me. Stirs of excitement erupted and a few were cheering me on. I was wondering 'Are these guys trying to make fun of me? I'm lifting hardly nothing at all!' I thought.

I had to stop to tell them off. As I put the bar back in its place and sat upright, I turned to look at the large amount of spectators behind me. "May I ask what your guys' problem is?" I asked in my macho manner.

"How in the hell you do that?" one of them, in a tank top asked.

"Osmosis." I responded with sarcasm. "What do you mean 'how did I do that?'"

"You just lifted 400 like it was nothing." Another guy responded.

I looked away from them and immediately my frustration towards them evaporated as I saw how much I had really lifted. "I lifted this?" I asked as I looked at both sides where there were four 45s, and several 25s placed.

"Like yeah!" the first guy said like it was obvious.

"Holy crap..." I whispered. In all my duration in the gym, lifting this much weight today was the first. I looked at all the people who were staring at me not like the ones at the train station with fear and shock but with excitement and eagerness shown in their faces.

It was hard to believe indeed.

"Yo man, do some more!" one of them cried out.

"No hold on, in order to prove this ain't a trick, we'll put more weight on." The first guy said and brought another 45 pound plate. The crowd was agreeing as well.

"No hold on…" I was unsure about it. It could have been adrenaline that made me lift it the first time and hence, I wouldn't be able to do it again.

As the muscle-bound guy put the extra weight on, he then went behind me and stated. "Do it again, I'll make sure you don't hurt yourself if it falls on you." Several of the people looking were laughing. I was hesitant at first but then I saw the girl ahead looking at me with an expression that I read as 'indifferent.' Like if she didn't care. Looking back at the bar, I immediately felt that I had to make her care.

Laying back down on the bench, I looked at the bar with the weight on. It was indeed a lot of weight and I could have had a serious injury than the one I had a few hours ago. I tried to clear my mind of anything that would make me nervous and without using any effort which surprised me, the bar was lifted by my hands and I went down and up. I opened my eyes and found out that no one was helping me. I was actually lifting more than 400 pounds! Everyone in the gym was now cheering. It kept me going. Now I was smiling.

I put the bar back on its place and looked around at the crowd of people applauding to the girl ahead. But she was gone. I had felt discontent. I wanted her so much for her to finally notice me. This could have been it but it wasn't. Sadness flooded over me and despite the opinions given by the people who were trying to figure out how I had lifted that much weight including a guy who said I had to have been on steroids, I got up and walked away without saying a word.

I even managed to ignore the 17 in "$17 every time you start!" sign on the window.

End of Part IV