I woke up around 2 a.m. realizing that Kat never came back with those donuts. I wondered what she might be doing. Probably something fun that young people do, I thought to myself. The thought of the donuts make my stomach rumble. I quietly got up and went to the kitchen. Very carefully, I fixed myself some Rice Crispies with chocolate milk. I started to think about what the mayor had said when she called earlier. Basically, she said that I should take some time off; let myself heal. It wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. She spoke with such authority yet with a shaming undertone, like my grandma telling me that I shouldn’t be wearing so much makeup to school. Luckily, I am just as defiant today as I was back then. I’m just going to have to put my makeup on at school.
I nearly blew the microphone out of my phone with my discontented sigh. I agreed to take a few days off, see how that goes, as a mental break, but there was no way that I was taking myself off of the case. I was still keeping all five fingers on my left hand in the pot. I could let others do the paper work, but I could still do some of the dirty work. I was still the boss after all. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? At the moment, I was as stable as Barney Feife.
I lifted the Rice Crispies to my ear to see if they offer me advice. Nothing I could use. Damn Crispies! The T.V. didn’t have anything worthwhile to offer me either. Billy Mays screamed at me for a while about my whiles and then later again about something else. I swear that guy is going to have a heart attack someday. I dozed on and off on the couch. Kali slept nearby, but she kept her distance. Maybe she could tell that I was restless and therefore left me to deal with my jolts and bolts of awake and sleep. But she still lifted her head every time I shifted my position for a more comfortable spot. She would look at me, blink, and rest her head again.
The DVD/VHS player read 4:26 a.m. I had only been asleep for a few minutes before the dream woke me up. A mixed-up array of places and people, doing who-knows-whatever, in wherever-places. One part of the dream, though, is clear as a bell. I think I was at a party, something to do with the family. I turned around and there was Kat as a child about ten years old. She was just standing there with the little smile she had, a kind of smirk actually, as though she really didn’t want to smile, but made an effort anyway. I immediately grabbed her and pulled into a hug. I started kissing her, and realizing who she was- my little baby sister standing in front of me- I realized that she was dead so I held her tighter, kissed her more, crying, not wanting to let her go. The really funny part of the dream was that she let me make a fuss over her. The real Kat would have put up a fuss, struggled a little, but my dream girl just stood there, letting her big sis fawn over her. And then she was gone- it was all gone- the room, the people, Kat, everything.
I sat up on the couch with a horrible feeling in my stomach. It could have been the cereal, but it felt more like the dream. I’ve had dreams before where one of my siblings or parents were dead but this dread felt so real, as though it were real. As though Kat were in fact dead. If I were to call my mom right now, and ask her…what would she say? I felt the answer in the pit of my heart, so when I reached for the phone, I pulled my hand back, because it was an answer I just didn’t want to hear right now.
I rose off of the couch without Kali looking at me. I walked heavily and wearily back into the bedroom and slipped as easily as I could back into bed. Tam snorted and gurgled, but for the most part, he stayed quiet and still asleep. I lay on my back, and stared at the ceiling and sometimes at the window and the small specks of light from the streetlamp that invaded the corners of the lowered blinds. I could still feel the dream; I could feel the emotions of sadness as I hugged her, the feeling of panic that she might disappear from my arms, the absolute terror at the thought that she was dead.
The alarm clock rang obnoxiously at 5:35 but I was still awake. Tam stirred, hit the snooze and rolled over. His left arm flopped over me rather awkwardly but I didn’t move it. Ten minutes later, the alarm rang again. This time tam turned it off and shook himself awake. He saw that I was awake too, and realized that I wouldn’t be getting up with him that morning. He kissed me on the forehead and on the lips. “I’ll call you at lunch,” he whispered to me, grabbed his uniform and headed out of the bedroom. A few minutes later I could smell the coffee brewing and a few minutes after that, I heard the door lock.
I sat up and contemplated actually getting up. I didn’t want to. I didn’t feel like I had anything waiting for me outside of the bedroom door except for hungry cats. I didn’t have a job, Tam was off chasing bad guys and I couldn’t do much with my arm still bandaged. The world continued to turn without me.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. At first I thought it was Tam, but then Kat opened the door and stuck her head in.
“GET UP!” she yelled in.
“I am up.”
“Well, then…GET…UP!”
After the dream I had of her last night, I shouldn’t be annoyed with her visit but rather happy that she was there, in the flesh, alive and well. But I was.
“I had a dream about you last night.”
“Awe, that’s sweet.”
“Don’t get too excited. You were dead.”
She didn’t squeal in horror like I thought she would have. Instead, she looked down and then made her way over to the bed and sat near me. “I know this has all been really hard on you: the funeral, Kaylie…”
“Just promise me you’ll never leave me.”
“I promise.”
“But go away on occasion…”
She laughed, “I promise.”
“Will you help me get dressed?”
“Do I have to?”
“Please?”
“Oh, fine. But at least let me pick out your clothes. You spend every day looking like… well… like you. The least I can do is help you look good…” Her voice trailed off as she went sorting through my closet for something ’cool.’ Depressed over her selection, she pulled out my favorite jeans and a black t-shirt. “You win! An artist cannot create if she has nothing to work with!” She followed me to the kitchen after she helped me dress.
“Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Hey, whatever happened to those donuts you went out for last night?”
‘What?”
“Donuts! You left me a note.”
“I didn’t go out for donuts.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Sorry.”
“That’s odd.”
She shrugged again.
“The note- it was right on top of my journal.”
“Are you sure it was from me?”
“Maybe it was Colleen…”
“She goes for donuts, right?”
“I suppose.” The subject was soon forgotten as we watched more Dog Whisper reruns (a whole day marathon) on Nat Geo. The next time we spoke was when the phone rang at noon. It was Tam.
“We’re getting hungry,” I said.
“Who have you got there?”
“Just me and the cats…” I laughed at my own pun. Kat rolled her eyes.
“Would you like me to bring you something?”
“No, that’s ok. I can warm up some leftovers.”
“That won’t last you long. How about I pick up later and take you back to my house for a few days.”
I was shocked that he brought it up again, and so soon after his initial proposal. I took too many seconds trying to think up a reason to say no.
“The cats will be fine alone for a couple of days and I can check on them in the morning to make sure they have enough food and water.”
Again, I said nothing. Speak dummy!
“Molly?”
“I’ll be ok tonight. I think I need a night alone anyway. I haven’t have a minute to myself in a while.”
It was his turn to be silent.
“I’ll be fine. I didn’t sleep much last night, so I’ll most likely nap all day…”
He was still quiet. I didn’t know what else to say; Kali has separation issues; I’m expecting the cable guy in the morning; My mom is coming over… I had nothing.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
“Ok.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
And that was it.
I thought about calling my mom, to tell her what had happened. But if I did, she really would be up here within 24 hours, fussing over me, fixing things for me, yelling at me that I hadn’t called her sooner. I thought about Tam’s offer and being with him would have been nice, but his house is not my home. In some ways, I wish it was, but I’m not sure if I’m really ready for that transition in our relationship. The scars from my last relationship still hurt. What a stupid excuse. Tam was the best thing to come into my life and I will never in a million years find someone better; more stable, more responsible, more sensitive, more adoring and adorable, more wonderful, more willing to take care of my sorry ass. I trusted him with my life, but I don’t think it’s my life that I’m worried about.
***************************
Kat was gone when I woke up from my nap. I felt bad falling asleep, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I was hungry but I had eaten all of the leftovers at lunch and there was nothing recognizable in the fridge, except for the lime Margarita mix. What the hell…
I knew I shouldn’t have called him, but my fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. And then, I was going to give him a piece of my mind. Who did he think he was? Keeping secrets from me is not a part of this relationship. I hiccupped and realized my hypocrisy. I’m such a loser.
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I am not,” I lied.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Yes...” I hesitated to tell him, but it was the truth. I had been mixing myself some very strong On the Rocks Margaritas all night, well, at least for the last two hours or so. I never knew tequila could taste so good when mixed with equal parts of lime Margarita mix.
“What’s wrong?”
“Besides life?”
“Are you ok?”
“No.”
“What can I do?”
“Bring her back. Make life not hurt so much.”
“What if we take some time off?”
“It wouldn’t make a difference. She would still be gone.”
“You are still here...”
I cried when I heard his words. Hadn’t he realized yet that I would have given anything, done anything, to change places with her. I would have easily, gladly, have put me in her place in a heartbeat, in half of a heartbeat. No doubt, no question in my mind, I would have died for her.
“Molly?”
I sobbed to let him know I was still on the line.
“Molly, I’m coming over.”
“No,” I said. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want anyone here, to see me sobbing, to see me drown in my tears. I wasn’t the dignified Sheriff everyone knew me as, correction, as he knew me. I was a puddle on the floor and I didn’t want his sympathy or his outstretched helping hand. I wanted to be left alone, to wallow alone in my own self pity, to let my own sorrow wash over me, bathe in the salt water of my tears, to let me wallow in the mud of a life I chose, and to somehow claw my way out of this whole mess. “Molly!” He shouted in my ear still glued to the receiver, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. My drunken sobs drowned the noise of the living out and I was left in my own quiet solitude, left to my own self-destructive thoughts of how I should have died instead, how she could have been saved, if only... oh... if only....
I must have passed out. I woke up slightly to the touch of his arms around me, carrying me to my bed. I felt the comfort of my blanket wrap around me, engulfing me in a sense of ease, a sense of protection that he was ready to give to me. Being an officer of the law or not, he was ready and armed to fight off the nightmares. I have never met someone so brave to fight off my nightmares.
Morning broke and he stayed, keeping vigil over me. I wanted to call to him, to say his name, to whisper to him my gratitude and love, but I puke over the side of the bed instead, right into the wastebasket he so thoughtfully left for me. I couldn’t help it. The words in my head got caught in my throat and made me vomit any romantic sayings I could ever dream up. Whatever trouble I caused him last night cannot compare to the hang over that plagued me. My pain is his comfort. He laughed at me as he patted my back in mocking sympathy, and I just let him.
4:00 a.m. and awoke to a very dry mouth. The glass of water I usually keep on my nightstand was as dry as I was. I longed for my stale drink still sitting in the living room, alone and warm. The directions on the bottle read 4 parts mix to 1 part tequila. I used equal parts. I smiled to myself, the ingenuity! The cleverness of putting in as much alcohol as sugar flavored mix. I felt very proud of myself for duping Tam. I don’t think he realized how drunk I was. Now I know why people drink. It takes everything away, washes it away like a wave upon the beach, sucking it back out to the ocean, back out into the mass of the primordial ooze, dissolves it, tries to make it pure again. Why don’t I stay here more often? So often I torture myself, I should love myself, make myself feel good. Drink more, feel less. Do I really enjoy this? Do I secretly need to be miserable? I wish I could remember her face, her voice, her eyes... oh fuck. I got the hiccups. I heard a snicker from the body next to me, so I punched it. “Ow!” It said, as I giggled. “Take that, naive...” He had flinched. Slowly, his right eye opened and looked at me. “Why?” He slowly gasped out. I smiled at him, and he knew that he was welcome, but it pained me to let him in, into my home, into my life. I hiccupped again, irritated. He just laughed. Funny for him, he doesn’t have the goddamned hiccups. I get up for a glass of water.
“You shouldn’t be so hard on him...” I hear in my ear. I know whose voice it is and I swat at it like a bug. “He loves you...” I heard it again... “Let him love you...” it said, so I swatted at it again. I think I hit it because it didn’t come back. I took my glass of water and my hiccupping shoulders to couch. “You ok?” Tam asked. I couldn’t answer him. Between the alcohol and the crying, my hiccups were here to stay. I shrugged.
I was completely unaware of what day it was, where I was, or even who I was. What a wonderful feeling, but it didn’t last long. Tam made his way to the kitchen and started to cook something. It smelled great. After a few minutes of whistling of a tune I couldn’t place, he came back to the couch and began to shove a plethora of carbohydrates in front of me, trying to coerce me to eat them all. I ate a little of the French Toast, but only because there was maple syrup to drown them in. Once that ran out, I lost interest and stopped eating all together. I wasn’t hung over; I was still drunk. The food hit my stomach and I had to run to the bathroom to keep from vomiting on the floor. My body felt toxic. All the while I wretched into the toilet, the song Rockin’ in the Free World by Neil Young rang in my head. It’s funny what the mind tells you when you can’t think straight. I wonder what life will be like with out me in it?
I pray to the porcelain goddess... It was supposed to be me.
No comments:
Post a Comment