Chapter 13
Our words are still hanging in the stagnate air around us like heavy mist, and I strain to see what had been so evident with my eyes shut. Across the room, I can see his form, visibly trembling, and I know-- I know he feels just as numb and electrified as I do.
It's like we're puzzle pieces-- but instead of turning one to fit into the other, we each keep turning around and around.
I close my eyes. It's unbearable-- this silence, but the mere thought of even moving is utterly terrifying. So here we are-- statues.
Grandmother had some statues commissioned for the garden last year-- they were much prettier and probably less rigid then we are now.
I look back over. His hands are resting on the window sill, no doubt holding him up. His neck is stretched, maintaining the full weight of his head. Something needs to change soon or he's going to lose all blood flow to his brain.
"You gonna jump or what?"
His head turns slightly at my comment. I guess this is one of those moments you just need something stupid to break the tension.
Unfortunately, there isn't anything stupid enough to say to break this....
He turns around slowly, as if he's fighting the realization that he can't just live the rest of his life staring out the window, and as he does, I realize the same thing--
There's something so tempting-- so comforting about sleeping. I can't help but wonder if I let it go again, if I could just scream and cry maybe I could drive myself crazy again-- after all, Jason did say my coma was probably because of prior mental problems-- maybe I could drive myself into darkness again......
But I can't live the rest of my life looking out the window.......
Damn life lessons. It'd be so much easier to be ignorant.
I bow my head slowly. I can feel his eyes on me, and I shiver even though I feel warm all over. In my head I already know what comes next-- what I will inevitably do-- and it pisses me off. I'm slowly but surely reverting back to the person I was the night I went to bed....
I thought-- I hoped-- maybe she was going to sleep for an eternity.
And sure enough, the words start rolling out of me, the air piercing in my lungs like the crackling of a fire.
"Okay...... We just forget this ever happened-- I didn't hear anything, and you didn't say anything, and nothing--"
I break off, the story nearly impossible to survive. I can't look at him. I can't. So I turn away-- looking to the other side of my bed. The metallic gleam of my IV stand catches my eye, and I can see Lucky's elongated form reflected along the pole. He looks comical-- like a clown you'd see at a child's birthday party, folding balloons into stupid shapes and squirting seltzer down his pants.
Well, that's the way he looks if you don't really look at him.
If you really look, he in no way, shape or form resembles a party-goin' entertainer. He looks more like a little boy whose puppy got run over.
A really *tall* little boy.
I stop, momentarily retracing my train of thought. It feels like I can't keep up with myself, and when I eventually hear what I'm really thinking I laugh in astonishment. Maybe I'm trying to prove to myself I really am mentally ill..... Maybe I am just mental.
"I think you need to leave now--"
I hold my breath to keep the scream that's following the words from escaping. God just give me a few more minutes-- a few more minutes to keep in, and then he'll be gone, and I can go crazy. I can literally lose my mind for the rest of my life....
I don't want a mind if it'll remind me of this.
He watches me closely, considering-- fighting and struggling. I swear I can hear the pummeling of his heart from here. His jaw sets tight, and he turns abruptly, heading to the door.
Just hold it in, just hold it in....
His hand touches the door knob and I feel another tear slide down my cheek. Every step closer to gone is pure agony for me. The pressure is still building in my chest-- the anxiety of waiting for him to leave mixing with the dread of missing him...
I close my eyes tightly, waiting for the click of the door, but it doesn't come-- and when I look up again, he's still standing frozen.
"What if...... What if-- I don't want to forget?"
And when I finally hear him-- he's gone.
Our words are still hanging in the stagnate air around us like heavy mist, and I strain to see what had been so evident with my eyes shut. Across the room, I can see his form, visibly trembling, and I know-- I know he feels just as numb and electrified as I do.
It's like we're puzzle pieces-- but instead of turning one to fit into the other, we each keep turning around and around.
I close my eyes. It's unbearable-- this silence, but the mere thought of even moving is utterly terrifying. So here we are-- statues.
Grandmother had some statues commissioned for the garden last year-- they were much prettier and probably less rigid then we are now.
I look back over. His hands are resting on the window sill, no doubt holding him up. His neck is stretched, maintaining the full weight of his head. Something needs to change soon or he's going to lose all blood flow to his brain.
"You gonna jump or what?"
His head turns slightly at my comment. I guess this is one of those moments you just need something stupid to break the tension.
Unfortunately, there isn't anything stupid enough to say to break this....
He turns around slowly, as if he's fighting the realization that he can't just live the rest of his life staring out the window, and as he does, I realize the same thing--
There's something so tempting-- so comforting about sleeping. I can't help but wonder if I let it go again, if I could just scream and cry maybe I could drive myself crazy again-- after all, Jason did say my coma was probably because of prior mental problems-- maybe I could drive myself into darkness again......
But I can't live the rest of my life looking out the window.......
Damn life lessons. It'd be so much easier to be ignorant.
I bow my head slowly. I can feel his eyes on me, and I shiver even though I feel warm all over. In my head I already know what comes next-- what I will inevitably do-- and it pisses me off. I'm slowly but surely reverting back to the person I was the night I went to bed....
I thought-- I hoped-- maybe she was going to sleep for an eternity.
And sure enough, the words start rolling out of me, the air piercing in my lungs like the crackling of a fire.
"Okay...... We just forget this ever happened-- I didn't hear anything, and you didn't say anything, and nothing--"
I break off, the story nearly impossible to survive. I can't look at him. I can't. So I turn away-- looking to the other side of my bed. The metallic gleam of my IV stand catches my eye, and I can see Lucky's elongated form reflected along the pole. He looks comical-- like a clown you'd see at a child's birthday party, folding balloons into stupid shapes and squirting seltzer down his pants.
Well, that's the way he looks if you don't really look at him.
If you really look, he in no way, shape or form resembles a party-goin' entertainer. He looks more like a little boy whose puppy got run over.
A really *tall* little boy.
I stop, momentarily retracing my train of thought. It feels like I can't keep up with myself, and when I eventually hear what I'm really thinking I laugh in astonishment. Maybe I'm trying to prove to myself I really am mentally ill..... Maybe I am just mental.
"I think you need to leave now--"
I hold my breath to keep the scream that's following the words from escaping. God just give me a few more minutes-- a few more minutes to keep in, and then he'll be gone, and I can go crazy. I can literally lose my mind for the rest of my life....
I don't want a mind if it'll remind me of this.
He watches me closely, considering-- fighting and struggling. I swear I can hear the pummeling of his heart from here. His jaw sets tight, and he turns abruptly, heading to the door.
Just hold it in, just hold it in....
His hand touches the door knob and I feel another tear slide down my cheek. Every step closer to gone is pure agony for me. The pressure is still building in my chest-- the anxiety of waiting for him to leave mixing with the dread of missing him...
I close my eyes tightly, waiting for the click of the door, but it doesn't come-- and when I look up again, he's still standing frozen.
"What if...... What if-- I don't want to forget?"
And when I finally hear him-- he's gone.