Everything Must Go

Honestly, if you were to ask my opinion, I would hafta say that I'm pretty sure her voice was the first thing to go. To really leave me. For me, at least.

Lemme explain.

I have all the pictures, so I'll never forget her face. I have all the memories we've shared, and when I focus on them hard enough, it almost feels like I'm there again.

With her.

Enjoying all the best moments we shared once again, even though I know my mind is playing a horrible fucking trick on me. Those emotions and thoughts and feelings that I have aren't real anymore, but they sure feel like it.

And I have her perfume. A whole bottle. It was a gift that never got open before she left. So I'll always have the sweet, sensuous aroma of her at an arm's length away if ever I'm getting down on myself.

Because that smell helps fuck with my mind enough to think she's still somewhere close to me. If I lie and force myself to believe I wasn't the one who depressed the little trigger on the bottle of perfume, anything's possible.

Sometimes I do that, and I almost believe she's in the next room. That if I hurry up, I can see her again before she walked out the door.

But it's just another lie.

And it hurts.

And I'm angry with myself for getting this way to begin with.

If you'll bear with me for just a second, I might also be able to answer a question you may or may not have.

Yes. I do have a camcorder. And I do have videos of us together. So, in theory, I should be able to remember her voice.

And I do.

But it's not the same.

Not by a long shot.

My TV and computer both have a tendency to play back a little on the tinny side. Sure, i can pop in some earbuds to cut out the tinny sound, but then you gotta remember every differet brand of earbud or headphones or whatever you wanna use seem to calibrated a little differently. None of the most expensive brand I could buy could ever truly give me back the sound of her voice that I was most familiar with. None of those brands could ever playback the same soothing tones she had.

I can hear her voice in my head when I think about it. Or when I see something that reminds me of her, but even then, it's my mind fucking with me.

It's my mind's interpretation of her beautiful voice. I knew her and loved her and spent every waking moment I could with her, but, still, her voice seems to have escaped me.

And I miss it.

I miss her.

I don't wanna even think about what's next to go.

I don't wanna be around for the day that her face becomes some distorted illusion of what I'd like it to be.

Or for the day I hafta dig deep into the recesses of my mind to remember her name.

I don't wanna be around for any of those unimaginable nightmares. She was mine.

And I loved her.

-And she'll be back tomorrow, sugar.

-What? Who are you?

-It's Martha, you know that. I'm your nurse, handsome.

-Right. Martha! What was I talking about, beautiful.

-Same thing you always be talkin' about, sug. How you afraid you never gonna remember your daughter's voice, even though she was just in the room.

-Chelsea? My Chelsea was here?

-Mmhmm. Who you think just walked out the room?

-I ... I don't know. Will I see her again? Do you know?

-Yes, darling. She'll be back tomorrow. She's been here everyday for the last year, wishing you'd snap out of it and remember who she is.

-Who?

-I'll tell you tomorrow, sug. It's lights out.

Numbness

I felt it. The pain you’re talking about. You might not believe me because I know it seems strange. Impossible even.

But believe me.

I felt it.

Maybe more than you ever did.

--

It started more as a sort of numbness than any actual pain, but it progressed and transformed into something I never thought possible, and it consumed me.

Day and night I felt nothing but pain coursing its way through my entire body. Fingertips tingling. Eyes burning. Toes curling and cramping into such a contorted form of what they were supposed to be that I no longer went barefoot. I was embarrassed and ashamed to look at them myself out of fear I might vomit at the sight.

Then the memory loss began.

Days slipped by me. I’d stare off into the darkness, where I’d hide. No one knew me there and it was comforting.

I had no one to answer to. No one to judge or mock me. No one to point out my failures.

I started writing as a way to help the memories remain. I didn’t want to live a life where I remembered nothing.

--

The words I’d write became my life. My world. They felt like a greater part of my being. My imagination had blossomed and taken form in words which, as a child, I never thought about. I took them for granted.

Words.

Names.

Things.

Everything with a purpose when a purpose seemed unattainable.

They helped me cope. Helped me grow as a person.

Helped me remember what I wanted to be.

At least I think so. It’s hard to tell anymore.

--

I still feel a numbness from time to time. That never really left me. It’s difficult to describe even though we all know the word and the meaning.

I’ll try to put it like this.

Say you’re learning something for the first time and you’re excited and eager to learn and when you first learn this new task you can’t wait to show all your friends what you’ve just learned. You can’t wait to show them how simple it is to do something that before seemed to be one of the most complex functions you’d ever come across at that point in your life. So you show you friends and they’re excited for you and they feel a new sense of being because they learned something else they’ve never known.

So now we’re all on this same page. We’ve all learned something new. With time, that new task that we’ve learned becomes less of an excitement and more of a monotonous drone that wears at you. It’s like you do the same actions that only a few days, hell even a few minutes ago, seemed like you’d never tire of and you get good at them. So good, in fact, that what once had taken you maybe twenty-five … a half hour to do, become something you can finish in ten.

And then you wait.

Wait and pass the time and think about nothing other than how you feel empty now.

Now that there’s nothing new to learn … nothing new to do … you feel empty.

Once you know that feeling, you can almost understand what I mean by feeling numbness.

Almost.

But not quite.

I don’t think you’ll ever truly know the numbness I feel.

But it’s getting better.

Because of her.

--

I’ll keep it brief for now because they’re coming. You don’t know them yet but, in time, you will.

You’ll be able to sense them as well as I can. And when you get that second sense … that extra feeling that you’re not alone, you’ll know why I’m cutting it short.

Suffice it to say that she helped me through more than I ever led her on to believe and I can only wish I’ve returned the favor.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to fully repay her or thank her, but I want her to know I love her.

If you take nothing else away from this, let it be that I love her. And that I want everyone to know how I feel.
That’s all I can say for now. The ground’s shaking, and I feel them upon me. Gotta run.

--

SYSTEM ERROR

fix me

it's still good right?

Birthday Wishes

     Oh no. I see them bringing the cake. I can almost feel the tension mounting as they draw nearer to the table. How am I gonna put this? I’ve been keeping silent for so long, waiting for the right moment to lay it all out there. Shit. They’re at the table now, setting the cake down in front of me.
     Force a smile.
     Play along.
     They’ve spent plenty of money on you. Carried you this far.
     Maybe I should wait. They’re all singing now, and the smiles on their faces are killing me.
     Do it.
     Now.
     “Yeah. Excuse me. Thanks. For all of this. Really, it means a lot. You all mean a lot to me. Hell, if it wasn’t for all of you … I’d be nothing.”
     Their faces again. All smiles. They all look at each other, a collective “aww” escaping their mouths. For me. I had a life of no worries. No bills. Everything was handed to me. I knew my father was planning on giving me the company when he stepped down. I might not exactly be qualified for the position, having never actually worked a day in my life. But still. Without batting an eye, he was gonna give everything to me.
     My palms are clammy. Throat dry. I reach for my water. Almost down the entire glass.
     Here it goes.
     Now or nothing.
     “I’m leaving.”
     Their smiles fade. Jaws drop.
     My father, there to ground everything, scoffs at me.
     “Leaving? What are you talking about? Where would you go?”
     “I don’t know, exactly.”
     “How would you get to ‘you don’t know’? You’re definitely not taking your car, that’s for damned sure.”
     “Walk, I guess.”
     “Don’t be an idiot, son.”
     My mother chimes in, saying, “Clifton, don’t be ridiculous, sweetie. What your father is trying to say is that you’re better suited for the company. You were born to -- ”
     “Born to what, ma? I’ve never done anything on my own. You guys have bought my way through everything.”
     The rest of the family is dead silent. But not my father.
     “Don’t talk to your mother that way, boy. She went through --”
     “Just give me a chance. I could actually make something of myself if you gave me a goddamn chance to pick myself up. I’m not afraid to fall down, Dad.”
     Finally a moment of silence for all of them. My grandmother looks close to tears, but I refuse to acknowledge that. I stand up, push my way through the wait staff and make my way for the door.
     Outside, the air feels new now that I’m free. Finally, I feel like an adult. Like I can make something of myself. Prove my worth. I dig in my pocket and grab out my wallet.
     Fuck.
     I navigate my way back to the table where my father has taken on consoling my grieving mother. I’m such an idiot. I feel like an asshole.
     I clear my throat. All eyes on me, only this time, they’re judgmental.
     Deep breath.
     Do it.
     Now.
     “Can I have some money, Dad?”

Frankie's Grillin'

     A long silence hung in the air after I completed my order and I was about to turn the radio back on, when I heard the sort of conversation I’d always dreaded hearing at Frankie’s Grillin’.
     “What do you mean off? Like completely?”
     “Yeah. Middle finger’s down to the nub.”
     “Dude! How?”
     “Jenny wasn’t paying attention when she was choppin’ the steaks and she cut right through the bone.”
     Another voice in the distance chimed in, gradually getting closer to the man with the headset still audible to me.
     “That’s not how it happened.”
     “How would you know?”
     “I was there. Saw the whole thing.”
     “So … ?”
     “It was a challenge, y’know? Jenny was braggin’ on her skills with the knife. Said she’s been practicin’ along with the Iron Chef shows at night. So Donny asked her to demonstrate. Said he was lookin’ forward to seein’ her fail. Then the rest of the guys in the back started eggin’ her on, cheering ‘Jenny! Jenny!’ until she caved in and started dicing onions paper thin. Pretty impressive. Donny dismissed the whole thing, sayin’ that’s amateur stuff. He learned how to do that just by watchin’ his grandma cook. So he sets another knife down on the counter. Says to impress him, she needed to up the ante. Two hands, two knives, y’know? She tried backin’ down, but the chants started up again. I mean she was so good with one knife, really, what’s one more? She gets a hunk o’ steak. Starts to do the whole tartare thing, and she’s doin’ it good, too. So good, that Donny left the back, pissed off. We’re all cheerin’ her on until she finally stopped. She sets down the knife from her left hand, the hand she’s not the best with, and for added flare, she tosses the other knife in the air. Gives us all a wink, and that’s when the blade came right down on her finger. Cut it clean off. She starts screaming until she faints. Joey calls the ambulance over and they just carted her away.”
     “Wow.”
     “Shit, man. They gonna reattach it okay?”
     “Nah. That’s the worst part. They couldn’t find the finger.”
     I pulled up to the window, feeling a little sick to my stomach. The window slid open.
     “Here’s your “Frankie’s Steak Special.”
     Before he could hand the sandwich over, I sped away.