Were your eyes always that colour? Wait, why am I noticing this?

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Current Date: July 26, 2023

Character: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 39
Current residence: Spirit Falls, Wisconsin
 

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Life has its ups and downs and I do my best to go with the flow. I still meditate daily because I know I can’t get through my days without that. Four of the pills I usually took have completely run out and there is no renewing them. It’s been a struggle over the last year to adapt to the lack of their presence in my life. They weren’t pills I took often, but they were pills I still took often enough that I could feel the symptoms of withdrawal when I ran out.

Romeo, over the last few years, has gone out of his way, or so it feels to me, to adapt the way we prepare our foods. Without the pills and the treatments that I’ve gone through, I couldn’t have anything that wasn’t as bland as it could be, my body couldn’t cope for some fucked up reason, but I know that he’s also, little by little, changed the recipes again. I think he started when it was clear that the pills wouldn’t last forever. His way of trying to get me to adapt to this new life—or try to adapt, in any case.

I can tell that there are flavours in the foods that there weren’t before, and my body doesn’t go crazy over them; maybe it’s exposure therapy. I’d heard my doctor back then talk about it, but he’d said that it would work best done as slowly as possible and while I still took my pills just in case something went wrong.

I know that, before the year is over, the rest of what little pills I have to my name in this house is going to be gone. It’s a miracle at all that I’ve been able to stretch them all out this long but that’s going to be it and recently, after meditating for far longer than I ever had, I sat him down with me, my heart hammering in my chest, because I wanted to tell him that I would understand if he didn’t want to stick around once my pills were gone.

I could understand if I was too much to handle when the meds were going to run out and that I wouldn’t blame him. That I would forgive him completely if he just packed up and left—or told me to pack up and leave.

He told me to look at him—because I’d been looking at my feet, feeling my anxiety rise with each passing second—and it took work, but I did. Before he could say anything, I found myself taken aback by the colour of his eyes. It’s not that I’d never known them to be the colour they were, but they felt so much more vibrant in that very second that I felt as though I’d never actually noticed at all.

Romeo is like a brother to me, I’ve never had a brother and, at this point in life, I’ll never have one, but he feels like that to me. He takes care of me, I take care of him, I tease him just softly about the way he prepares food, and he wrinkles his nose somewhat at me when I prepare it. We’ve settled into a comfortable life here, but I still worry about how things are going to turn out when the pills are all gone. Just a few more weeks at this point, really.

He told me, after I’d managed to drag myself out of this odd sense of things at the sight of his eyes, that he wouldn’t leave. That this was my house anyway and even if I told him to pack up his stuff and leave, he wouldn’t. He’s got his heart set on making sure I’m going to be okay once the pills are all gone and that we’re family—even if we’re not, not by blood—and that family just doesn’t abandon one another in times of need.

How do I repay him for everything he does for me? How do I give back to him all the time he’s spent on me, ensuring that I’m okay? I just barely remember what happened during the seizure I had a couple of years ago. I’d never had one of those before and one of the few things I do remember from that day was the terrified look on his face when I could focus again. I never want to see him look like that, I just don’t. I know I can’t fix my health, not in any real way.

I just have to keep doing what I’ve been doing from the start and hope for the best. It’s not the greatest feeling in the world but it is what it is and that’s that, in the end.

Final Word Count: 801

Grudge? Are you kidding me? You literally betrayed me yesterday! Of course, I’m mad!

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Characters: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 38
Current residence: Spirit Falls, Wisconsin
Final Word Count: 815 words
 

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I’ve been using pills less and less. Before the fog, my regime of pills was probably something akin to a horror movie. Some I had to take daily, others I had to take twice, even three times a day. When the fog first settled, it took a few weeks of trial and error so I could find out how I could function while taking some of the pills much less often. It became all the clearer to me that my pills wouldn’t last forever when Sarah-Lee gave me everything she had left of the pills that I was the only one taking.

From that point on, it became a bit of a struggle to calm myself down and think about things methodically. I had to figure things out and, little by little over the past year or so, I think I’ve managed pretty well. There are certain pills that I’ve managed to stop taking altogether unless something crops up and I feel myself beginning to lose it.

The one pill that I was taking daily, mostly for my nerves, I now take as I might need it. I still let Romeo handle most of the quantities. Every week, he gives me my pillbox and by week’s end, I’m just pleased as can be that I’ve barely touched them, and I’ve been able to function near perfectly without them.

That’s not to say I’m cured or that I’ll ever be. It’s just that I’ve learned to do daily meditation and I’ve managed to change my habits just enough that I can handle myself without medication.

About a week ago, however, I pretty much went through one of my pills like my life depended on it and I’m not proud of it, but I was faced with a situation that seems as though it warranted it.

It’s been a pretty long time since I’ve actually been in the store itself. Usually, I would go with Romeo but I’d let him step inside and I’d wait for him outside so we could walk our things back to the house. I still feel guilt for the pills Sarah-Lee gave me, even though she made it abundantly clear that no one else in the community needed them and I was the one constantly special-ordering them and yeah, I’d ordered far too many last time I’d needed them out of a brief fit of anxiety.

I was outside, just waiting quietly and Romeo was inside, exchanging what little we had managed to save from the outdoor garden for canning. It wasn’t much but we’d had issues with bugs for a good part of the summer. I know that the young man who handles the store let Romeo know that it was all right and we all worked as a community, but I always felt bad for what we took when we couldn’t exchange for anything in return.

Anyway.

I’m waiting there, just quietly. I’m minding my own business and a young woman—my age, maybe?—walks on by. Her pace is determined and behind her, another woman, slightly older, is almost chasing after her, as though desperate to catch up. The older one of the two catches up, reaches out for the arm of the younger woman and the latter turns on her heels, glowering and glaring murder.

Now, the thing here is that I know it had nothing to do with me but even witnessing something like this, something that, to me, felt like it could go downhill rapidly, set me on edge and I felt an edge of anxiety I hadn’t in months. I turned sideways, not wanting to look at them but considering how loud they were being, I couldn’t ignore them, even with my hands over my ears but I felt like that would have attracted more attention and I didn’t do it.

All I remember from the whole thing, before Romeo was at my side and the soothing tone of his voice was in my ear with his arm around me to bring me back down to awareness, was some near-screaming about holding a grudge and how the older one had betrayed the younger one of the two and that, of course, the younger one of the two was going to be mad.

I think I’ve mentioned that I’m broken.

It’s an understatement.

Romeo’s gaze was just so understanding and yet firm when he gave me my pillbox. I still somehow managed to not beg him for more, and I’ve managed to keep to taking only one a day but, thankfully, by the end of the week, even though my pillbox was much emptier than it had been in months, I had managed to calm back down. I spent more time meditating to get myself back to a calmer mindset than I ever had before, and I don’t want to have to go through that again.

I’m starting to think I haven’t made any progress.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Characters: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 36
Final Word Count: 685 words
 

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I remember how I felt when I left the store, when I left Sarah-Lee behind, never to see her again. Mind you, I never saw her following the day I left the store because I never went back. Being out and about seemed to be counterproductive to my wellbeing so I stayed mostly in the house. I went back out with Romeo every now and again but I mostly stayed outside. I breathed in the fresher air from outside because it kept me from focusing too much on the air inside; it kept me from thinking about all the pills she’d given me, keeping them from anyone else who might need them.

I still remember her words, though. I was the only one in the community who ever needed them, so she’d felt no remorse in giving them all to me. She trusted me to dose myself properly and I have. Actually, I’ve done less than that. I only take the pills when I really start to feel my mind become unfocused and I’ve been doing so much meditation that it hasn’t happened all that often.

At least…

At least, that’s what I tell myself but I have so many self-doubts that I feel like I’ve medicated too much. When I start to self-doubt, I start to count out all of the pills but there are so many that I lose track of my count not even halfway through, it makes me start all over again, it makes my stress ramp up and, well you can imagine the mess it leaves me feeling. I’m starting to think that I haven’t made any progress with this whole thing. For years, I felt somewhat in control but that fog had ripped it all away from me.

I’ve given Romeo control over my pills except for a week’s worth. He leaves me with my little pillbox and there are enough in there to last me a week. It’s the only way I can keep sane about it.

I can’t put into words the relief I feel when we go over the box on Saturday afternoon and I still have a few left; that usually means I was doing well, it means my mind was okay and I was focused. I think it’s the only thing that makes me feel good about things. For the week or so after I’d first given the full bottles back to Romeo, I kept on panicking, I kept on thinking I needed my pills when I didn’t really and he took my pillbox back. Every morning, he’d check in on me and see how I was doing, he’d give me my pill and that would settle that.

He’s a good young man. His life hasn’t been easy—though I think that a lot of our lives haven’t been easy—but it’s been soothing to have him here with me. I feel like he’s the brother, or maybe even just the cousin I’ve never had. That one family member that looks out for you when you need it the most.

Now that the fog is gone, we’ve both had to sit down and talk about it because we’re not sure what we’ll be doing. This is my house, my home. I don’t want to go out there and I’m not in any need for pills any time soon. I mean, I know I’ll run out but it hasn’t happened yet. I’ll have to get more when that happens but I still at least have a year and a half’s worth. That’s how well I’ve been doing. I haven’t even used half a year’s worth in the almost ten months it has been since she gave me the pills. It might not seem like a huge victory to anyone else but me, but it’s a huge victory to me.

For the longest of times, I had to take that pill every morning, I had to take it twice a day, on some days, but I’ve gotten better. It’s not perfect, it will never be, but I don’t mind. I’ll work with it.

I’ve never seen someone look so sad.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Characters: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 36
Final Word Count: 639 words
 

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It would be a lie if I said I don’t know what drew me into this little town. While my health issues have mostly gotten better over the years, there still are problems for me to face and having lost the one friend and scientific genius who was keeping me supplied with these things that made my health issues better, there was no getting any better. Just staying better.

For a while, I was honestly terrified as to what would happen to me now that he was gone. Would my issues revert themselves? An unfounded fear, since his solutions to my problems were long-term, but still. It wasn’t perfect but it was getting there. My attention span still requires medication and with the fog around this place now, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to keep taking it for very long. Even now, I only take it when I feel myself slipping into a bad day and I have so much to think about that I have more bad days than not.

Sarah-Lee who works behind the counter at the pharmacy gave me enough to last me about two years and told me that it was likely they wouldn’t get any more, not with that fog. It made me cringe to imagine it and I felt bad for taking so much with me, especially when, legally speaking, she wasn’t allowed to do it but I haven’t seen her since and I worry about what she might have done.

I know these will last me more than just two years, I’ll do all I can to make them last.

The fog terrifies me but I know that there’s nothing I can actually do about it so I just have to take each day as it comes.

I still remember his funerals as though they had happened yesterday but it was more than ten years ago, closer to twelve now. There was this young boy there; he couldn’t have been much more than fourteen or fifteen. I suppose that calling him a young boy is being unfair, seeing as I only was ten years older than him but I suppose it’s part of the whole scene.

There was a faint drizzle going on, just enough to add moisture to the air but not really enough to be a frustration. There weren’t a lot of people around and I never had seen the boy before. He looked so distraught, just standing there, back stiff and eyes locked on that coffin. I’d never seen someone look so sad before. Was he a nephew of sorts? Adonai had been too young to be a father of someone that age and again, I’d never heard of him and I was there weekly, we were close or so I’d have liked to believe.

I wanted to go to him once everything was said and done but another young man, perhaps closer in age to Adonai, walked the boy away before I could even cross over to talk to either one of them. I didn’t chase them; I didn’t want to cause a scene.

It’s after that that I ended up moving to this little city. I mean, I moved to a few different places and it actually took me two years to find this place but I eventually did. It was just far enough away from the rest of the bigger cities to be comfortable but still close enough that a short drive—something I’d learned with a lot of difficulty—could take me to the bigger city as necessary.

This fog, though, this thing has changed everything and yet, there’s nothing to be done about it. This fog is what this life is about now, or so it seems. There’s no escaping it, so why focus too much on it?

Zebras are such a cool animal, am I right? The stripes are on point.

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Characters: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 33
Final Word Count: 545 words

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I was an easily excitable child. The doctors would mention that it was in the mind, but later on, it would turn out to be closer to something in my system that made it so that most things that held a certain amount of—I don’t know how to put it. If the food wasn’t bland and dull, something in my body would just get the jitters and I’d pretty much go into overdrive, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. I learned to deal with it, of course. Bland, tasteless foods that wouldn’t tantalize the taste buds in any way.

I still had something of a bubbly personality or so I was told. I still had all the modelling contracts I could ever want but now and again my mind would just wander off on a tangent.

One of these sort of sad tangent happened when I was just sixteen. Someone had brought me some sort of fruit juice because the day was a scorcher and the clothes being modelled were zebra-printed and I just started babbling, grinning a little as I did. About how they were such a cool animal, how the stripes were perfect. I remember that moment now. I was happy to talk about it all, not really noticing anything else until I finally did wind down.

Thinking back on that day though, now I can notice little things from my memory that my brain picked up, even while I was rambling away. The somewhat pitying look from one of the makeup girls, the way the photographer would roll his eyes but he couldn’t really complain. Sure I was talking but I was still holding my pose just fine but my mouth wouldn’t shut. I just kept on talking and talking and talking.

The saddest part of that particular memory is the look of… I don’t know—disdain?—on the face of the model I had been working with. It was in his eyes. He was the one I was chattering away at, of course. Not that I was really seeing him, not in that way. My mind was far away; still latched enough to listen to any requests from the photographer but that was it. At that very point in my life, zebras were the coolest thing ever and nothing would ever compare to them.

There are memories like these that I actually wish I could forget, now that my system has been balanced. I still take pills almost every day but it’s the shots I was given almost a decade ago that helped me settle into the life I have now. I’m still a little picky about the kind of food I eat but now I can appreciate the finer taste of things. This has made such a huge impact in my life.

I look back to the photos from my younger years and I can see there’s something missing in there, an almost vacant sort of thing in my eyes. Not vacant-vacant but I know my own stare and I can just tell that there was something wrong with me back then. Most people wouldn’t notice and I guess that this is for the best, in the end.

I still think zebras are sort of cool though, by the way.

Orange

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – Unspoken Promises
Characters: Cristofori Maestri
Race: Human
Age: 33
Final Word Count: 528 words

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For as long as I could remember, I had to eat bland foods, drink bland drinks. There was just something wrong with my digestive system that more or less sent me into overdrive and something not much different from hyperactivity. An apple? Not happening. A glass of sweet iced tea? Nope. Iceberg salads, bland croutons, unseasoned pasta with unsalted butter.. well the list could go on, I ate a lot of sauteed tofu that had not been seasoned. All for my own well being.

That is, until I met Nati. Though it wasn’t so much Nati who saved me from death by blandness as a contact of his, a scientist. I still remember my first meeting with Adonai, it’s hard to forget. It took a few months, almost a year really. A shot of this, a shot of that, this pill, that. I didn’t mind, I could try all kinds of new things. In small dozes of course but eventually, he perfected what he’d been working on, a small pill that I had to take once a week or so, likely to the end of my life but that was fine, I could discover so many new things I didn’t know where to start.

Most of the time, I’d let Nati decide, let him pick what we were going to eat together while we were on shoots together, otherwise I just tried whatever new thing I could get my hands on, it seemed to be the best method in the end.

One of those new things I discovered with Nati was orange juice. The fresh squeezed kind, not the store bought kind though I’ve looked at the ingredients of the one I’m currently buying when I do my shopping and it’s short, no added sugar, no stuff I can’t pronounce. A few additives for vitamins but that’s it and I figure those can’t hurt.

I can’t really explain what it tasted like, what it really was. All I can say is that my taste buds were rejoicing over the sweet taste of the liquid as I took my first sip, my teeth squishing the little.. I call them bulbs of flesh, the pulp? It was heavenly, one of the sweetest things I’d had to this point. Of course, now years later, I can admit that I’ve tasted much sweeter but not often.

I’ve tried chocolate but I couldn’t get used to the taste of it. White chocolate was way too sweet, milk chocolate in small dozes just was too much still but I admit that black chocolate, like, that 70% type with a hint of either fruit or citrus or other things in there, that I like, maybe once or twice a year.

My body is still attuned to milder things and I won’t complain, but bursts of extra flavours every so often is wonderful. I do like my warm milk with a bit of honey at night, it helps me sleep. Or chamomile tea. A good bowl of cereals with extra berries on top or oatmeal with those same berries in winter breakfasts… there’s just so much more for me to eat now and I’m forever grateful.