Tuesday, March 5, 2019

Part III: Delirium

"... And all I wanted was to get a little bit of closure, and every step I took I looked, it wasn't any closer. 'Cause sometimes when you say good-bye, yeah, you say it over and over and over and over..." - Mike Shinoda

My alarm wouldn't let me sleep the following morning. I reached into the darkness, terrified that I wouldn't find anything in the abyss, fighting the hangover from the previous day spent at the hospital. If I had known that I was going to feel this bad, I wouldn't have talked myself out drinking that bottle of rubbing alcohol the night before. I remained laying in my bed for longer than I should have, staring in the general direction of my ceiling. I listened as Melissa breathed deeply next to me, still asleep, un-phased by my alarm. I tried to convince myself to call in sick that day. The job can wait, I thought. But then I started hearing the dissenting voices I’ve heard since I was a kid. You have vacation coming up. And you just started this new position. You don't want to give them a reason to think you can't handle the job. I felt my legs move on their own from out of the shelter of the blankets and be greeted by the brisk, early morning chill. My body was on autopilot as I felt myself shuffle into the bathroom.

Despite yesterday’s trauma, everything appeared physically familiar in the bathroom mirror: the flabby stomach, the unkempt facial hair, the perky a-cups. But something must have been up with the lights that morning because the eyes I saw didn’t look like mine. I caught a glimpse of someone else’s eyes in my reflection; lifeless orbs where my eyes should have been. I rubbed the sleep from my face, and they became my own again. I must have imagined it. "Come on," I said in a voice that sounded like mine. "Time to go to work."

Melissa awoke to ask me if I was sure I wanted to go to the office that day.

"I'm sure." I wasn't. I kissed my wife goodbye and began my arduous, hour-and-half trek through the desert.

My desert drive is offensively bland with nothing to break the landscape besides Joshua Trees and the occasional roadkill. Since my hiring, people would tell me that the isolated desert road was haunted, but I never put any stock into that. I never once saw a ghost and by that time in my career, I had mastered a slew of coping skills to distract myself from the distance. The trick was to listen to either music or a morning radio show in order to drown out my inner monologue, lest the machinations of my inner demons manifest themselves in the form of existential crises and echoes of self-doubt. Simply put, my mind can't shut the fuck up long enough to guarantee a safe drive to work, so I drown it out with music and sexual innuendos. Plus, the louder the music is, the less I hear my car's constant cries for help. But today was different. I tried to listen to Frosty, Heidi, and Frank make PG-13 dick jokes, but for WHATEVER REASON, I was not in a laughing mood. I switched over to the CD player. Yes, I still listen to CDs. Yes, it is as depressing as it sounds.

In the player was Linkin Park's recently released album, One More Light. I had been listening to it non-stop since Chester's suicide. I heard his ghost sing through my speakers:

"I'm dancing with my demons, I'm hanging off the edge..."

*Click*

Nope. Not today. My hand basically went through the radio only to shut it off. I guess I could have tried to change the CD, but as any of you who lived through the dark ages know, attempting to do so at high speeds was risky business. Plus, I couldn’t guarantee my car would give the CD back. So instead, I opted to listen to nothing. I braced for the dark thoughts that would surely scream through the silence of my drive but... 

Nothing. For the first time I could recount, my inner monologue was silent, almost as if my brain chose to abandon this sinking ship. For the first time since I was hired, I gazed out my windows and truly appreciated the grandeur and beauty of the snow-covered desert. The vast emptiness was overwhelming. I felt my breath and pulse slow and my nerves begin to calm. But when I glanced in my review mirror I saw a sinister pair of eyes staring back. I squeezed my eyes shut to recalibrate them, and when they reopened, I saw my own eyes staring back. My coffee must have had a hard time kicking in.

I pulled into the parking lot and stared at the entrance of the CPS office. My legs felt like cinder blocks; I was unsure how I would be able to perform my duties as a children’s social worker having just... I called Melissa.

"Hello?" she asked, voice groggy.

"Hey, just wanted to let you know I made it," I responded, trying as hard as I could to keep my voice from cracking.

"Okay," she said, "how are you doing?"

"What am I doing? Why did I come in? I should just come home." There was the spiral, right on time.

"Yeah, you should. They'll understand."

But again, I heard the voices. The same, dissenting voices that had convinced me to come to work in the first place. I heard my voice say: "I'm already here. I might as well try to get some work done; tell Jackie in person."

"Okay, sweetheart," said Melissa without any surprise in her voice. She knew me. "Just take care of yourself and come home if you need to." She knew I wouldn't.

"I will," I said. "Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you up. I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

*Click*

I got out of my car, the roaring, icy winds nearly pushing me over. “Only the strongest creatures can endure in this land of extremes,” I thought in David Attenborough's voice, wondering if that was still me. Shit, was that ever me? I found myself wondering how long it would take someone to find my body had I collapsed in the parking lot until I finally reached the door. I made it inside and headed directly to the bathroom, keeping my head down to avoid eye contact. I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to find the nerve to start my day. I looked into the mirror and saw the same, hollow eyes that had met me before. More cold water. More eye rubbing. This time, they didn’t go away, and I found myself staring into a stranger’s eyes. They looked empty.

“Hi,” said the husk in my voice.

“Okay,” I said after confirming I was alone in that bathroom. “What is this? A precursor to my 5150?”

“Nothing that dramatic,” said the husk. “I’m actually just here to make sure you don’t lose your shit today. Don’t worry, I’m still you. Trust me.”

“Yeah, the only people who say trust me are people who shouldn’t be trusted.”

“What about Aladdin?”

“The dude who lied about every aspect of his being to get a date?”

“Fair point. Look. You wanna make it through the day, you gotta close yourself off. Harden yourself to everything and we’ll make it through.” I watched as the husk practiced facial expressions in the mirror. No, shockingly, I didn’t trust the hallucination… but what it was saying made a lot of sense. I felt a numbness take over my body and for a minute, I convinced myself that I might be okay.

My first and only objective was telling Exie, the mother hen. If I could just tell her, I could ask her to tell everyone else for me. Everyone would know and I wouldn't have to confront a single other person. I walked to her desk, already exhausted. "Hey Exie," I said quietly.

"Brockster!" she exclaimed, her youthful features betrayed by her silver hair, always kept in a high bun. She could have been 30 or 60, your guess is as good as mine. Black don't crack. "How are you? How's wifey?" she swiveled her chair to face me, and I watched as her eyes became glassy and the smile slip from her face. "What happened?" she asked. I guess the husk wasn't as convincing as it thought it was. I felt the tears begin to collect in my own eyes and my lip being to quiver.

"We lost the baby," I said, barely above a whisper. Without thinking, Exie got up from her chair and embraced me. I hardly reacted.

"How's Melissa?" she asked with genuine concern in her voice. I shrugged my shoulders.

"As good as she can be," I said, still unable to fully conjure any sentences that would mean anything.

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

"How are you?" she asked, wiping away a tear from her cheek. "What are you doing here? You should be home."

I shrugged again. "I don't know," I said. "I've got stuff to work on and... Maybe I just need things to feel normal right now."

She nodded, not fully believing my answer. I didn't believe it either. "What can I do?" she asked, no trace of hesitation in her voice.

"Can you tell the others? I don't know that I have it in me."

"Of course. Do you want me to keep them away or...?"

"Yeah. I don't know how I'm going to react and if I snap... That's not fair to them. I don't want to do that." At the time, I guess I didn't realize how grossly unfair it was to ask Exie to do this for me. To not only drop the knowledge of… the incident on her, but to then ask her to spread the word to the rest of our cohort. On top of whatever else she was dealing with herself. I just… I needed help.

"Alright, well I'll tell them. Just let me know if you need anything."

"I will." I wouldn't.

I avoided all eye-contact and conversation as I drifted to my cubicle on the other side of the office. “So what happened there?” I thought.

“Hey, it’s not a perfect process,” responded the husk. I’m not sure if I was comforted or terrified by the fact that it answered. “Give me some time, I’ll get it right.”

Fortunately, nobody in the office really seemed to have an interest in talking to me that day and I was able to make it to my desk while focusing on keeping my anxiety in check. Every one of my insecurities knew I was an easy target today and if I wasn't careful, they would consume me. I booted up my computer and began working, grateful that I didn’t have a cubemate at the time. Then Lucia, the little sister, came to check up on me.

"Hey James," she said. Her raven hair reflected the dim glow of the florescent lights and her warm smile attempted to mask the sadness in her normally vibrant eyes. "Exie told me not to say anything but I wanted to come see how you were doing…" I never realized how shitty it is to work with truly wonderful people until I wanted to be left alone.

"Thanks," I heard my voice say. "I don't think I'm going to be able to make it to your lunch today." As a group, we had planned to take Lucia out for her birthday, but me and my elephant would literally suck the oxygen out of the room if I went. "I don't want to steal your thunder," the husk joked. It managed what it thought was a smile, but Lucia's eyes became glassy, so who the fuck knows what expression crossed my face.

"No, I figured," she responded. "Just... Let me know if you need anything."

"I will." I wouldn't. The husk watched as she left, proud of itself that the conversation didn't end in an explosion of tears. The pain, while present, seemed dulled after the conversation. Maybe the husk was, in fact, helping. Maybe I was tapping out. Whatever the reason, I felt now would be the best time to tell my supervisor, Jackie, what had happened. I knew the numbness wouldn’t last for long and thought that if I suddenly stopped showing up to work, my higher-up should know why.

The walk to Jackie's desk was literally 5 steps away; fortunate, as I was still unaware when my body would decide to give out. Jackie was perusing new stories of the day on her phone with her long, spider-like leg up her desk; her idle pose. "Hey Jackie," I heard my voice say. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Jackie whipped her head up, her wild, bushy hair bouncing after her.

"Yup, what's up?" she asked. Her cool, twinkling blue eyes met mine, no trace of sympathy or remorse crossed her face. The husk had apparently improved its disguise. It tried to go for a nonchalant approach.

"Hey, so my wife and I were pregnant and yesterday, she miscarried…” and as I said it, I realized that it was the first time I said the word aloud. And that was the first time I lost it; the first time that the full force of the grief tackled me. I let out 3 loud, ugly sobs before regaining some semblance of what could pass as composure. In front of my boss. Jackie said nothing, but her eyes were glassy now. I continued: "So I'm going to work on closing that referral before my vacation. I should have it to you by today or tomorrow." Jackie took the same nonchalant approach that I was attempting.

"Okay," she said. "Let me know if you need to take off."

"I will." I wouldn't.

“Okay, I feel like that one was on you,” said the husk in my head. “How about a little warning before we drop the M-word next time, huh?” I didn’t respond.

The day dragged on and I became more and more focused on my work, trying to ignore the voice telling me that Jackie thought I couldn't handle the job. Nobody else came to talk to me, which I took as a blessing. Mostly, it was a quiet morning until the briefing.

Every morning, my section would have a meeting to discuss the number of investigations open that day and any pressing news. They could last anywhere from 5 minutes to an eternity, and took place right next to my desk every morning. As the briefing was called and my colleagues walked by, I noticed that not a single person paid any sort of mind to me. “See,” said the husk. “I told you I’d get it.”

I stood and listened to the morning announcements, but ran out of energy about halfway through and fell back into my chair. I continued to listen, but gun to my head, I couldn't tell you anything they announced that day. "Let's have a good day," said the duty supervisor, signaling the end of the meeting. I listened to the cavalcade of social workers walk by my cubicle but didn't turn around to face any of them, choosing instead the shelter of my work. Then, I felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around my shoulders. I put my hand on the arms, hoping that they were real and not another manifestation of my shattered psyche. "I'm so, so sorry," said Paulina, Lucia's hetero-life-mate and all around sweet person. I turned and looked into the big, Disney-princess eyes staring back at me. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just trying not to think about it. Trying to focus on work so I don't have to think about it." It took all I had to muster any sort of inflection, but I was starting to sound robotic.

"How's Melissa?"

"As good as she can be. She's at home today."

"Hey, I'm here for you. If you need anything, let me know. We're all here for you."

"I will." I wouldn't. "Thanks Paulina." Again, both grateful and furious at the amount of compassion being thrown my way.

"You know they don't really care about you," said the husk. I tried to ignore it as rage began to form in my core. “None of them. They’re just affirming to themselves that they’re good people. They know they can’t help, and know offering it is an empty gesture that you’ll never take them up on.”

“You’re so full of shit,” I responded. “You’re just trying to convince me that I need you. Because if I feel any sort of support or relief, it means I can allow myself to feel, right? It means you go away?”

“Hey, I’m never gonna go away. I’m you. And before you get all self-righteous, let me ask: why did you come to work today? Because you felt a responsibility to the job, or because you wanted people to feel sorry for you? You could have sent this news over a text message like you did with your folks, but you wanted to see their reactions. You love being the center of attention.”

“Then why am I sitting in the back trying to avoid my friends?!” I asked. “Why did I drive an hour and a half to isolate myself in what equates to the dungeon of an office at a job that I hate?” The husk did not respond immediately, and I hoped that I was alone.

“Well, I guess we’re going to find out together. And you’re never alone.”

It was nearly noon; the day was half spent. I stepped back into the elements and called Melissa again:

"Hey sweetheart, just checking in. How are you doing?" I asked.

"Well they were showing a Gilmore Girls marathon and it was the one where Lorelei thinks she's pregnant and Sookie gives birth. So I changed the channel to a Psych marathon, because it’s Psych! It’s safe! And they played the one where Lassie's baby is born. Then it went to commercial and there's apparently a show that follows pregnant women around through their pregnancies. And because I went several minutes without breathing Rory had to come resuscitate me."

"Shit."

"And then..."

"Fuck, there's an 'and then'?"

"And then I went to Target which is just full of screaming newborns today because apparently the universe isn’t done fucking with me. Oh, and my mom's friend works there, heard that we were having a baby, and decided to ask me about it."

"So, you're doing great," I said.

"I mean, I’ve run out of tears so I guess that’s a plus?" she responded. She continued to tell me that she was studying for her final the next day, because I’m married to a goddamn superhero. I told her a bit about my day, but kept the details to myself. I didn't want her to have to take care of herself and worry about me.

"Well," she said, "just let me know when you’re headed home."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too."

*Click*

Just as I was hanging up, I saw my friend Kono walking towards me like the best dressed Ross mannequin in the high desert. The man had been through a lot this last year, and I thought he was coming to offer me his condolences as a fellow broken man. Instead: "I'm heading over to Lucia's lunch. You need a ride?" In the millisecond it took me to answer, my mind played out all terrible and very possible scenarios. I had every intention of saying 'No,' but what came out was:

"Sure, thanks." The husk was assuming control, and it was getting cocky. As we drove, we talked about nothing in particular. Weather, work, holidays. Those sorts of things. For a few brief moments, everything almost felt normal, until we reached the restaurant.

The looks of shock and horror on my friend's faces were indescribable as I walked through the door. Nobody had expected me to show up… probably because I told Lucia that I wasn't going to show up. "Hey, everyone," I heard my voice say. I saw everyone's body tense and watched as their faces contort into nervous smiles as I sat down. “Happy Birthday, Lucia,” I said. I opened with a joke, but can't remember which one. Must not have been that funny because nobody laughed. I tried making small talk, yucking-it-up as the world's saddest clown, but they all knew what was going on. It's the eyes, guys. The eyes are a dead give-away. And what I saw in the eyes of my work-family was the same look one would cast on a bird that flew into a window. They didn't know whether to help me, leave me, or put me out of my misery, as I became an uncomfortable reminder of what could have been. To their credit, my friends did their best to make things normal for me. I think we even got a few genuine laughs out of each other and before we knew it, lunch was over and we were headed back to the office.

On the way, I broke the news to Kono. “Hey, so I don’t know if you heard, but we lost the baby.”

“Dude,” he said, “I don’t even know how you’re functioning right now.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I admitted.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know if I’m trying to normalize it, not think about it, or I’m just on autopilot. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.”

“Well, if you need anything, I’m here. Let me know,” he assured as we pulled into the parking lot.

I stood outside in the quiet for longer than I should have, listening the wind. “You haven’t told Cynthia yet,” said the husk. “Between everybody, you know she’s already planning for your old unit to shower you with baby gifts.” I knew the husk was right; Cynthia’s personality made her an intense supervisor and a fiercely considerate friend. In truth, I was hesitant to tell her for fear of her unrelenting attempts to cheer me up. However, I knew the longer I waited, the harder it would be.

Cynthia's desk was on the polar opposite side of the office, giving me plenty of time to prepare myself for what I thought she would say. I listed off all of the placeholder phrases that people like to say to fill an uncomfortable silence. The phrases that people use to preserve their world view without any regard to what they would do to me.

The universe has a plan. God is mysterious. It isn't your time. There was probably something wrong with the baby. At least it was early. You can try again. You're still young. All of these expressions would be hurled at me and Melissa over the coming days and weeks, and I had expected to hear at least one of them when I spoke to Ms. Silver Lining over there. "Hey Cynthia," I said. She turned and smiled at me, a smile that would normally brighten any room she was in.

“How’s the baby?” she asked. I told her and watched her smile disappear. I braced myself for the onslaught of love and support. I was ready for anything. Anything, it seemed, except for what she said:

"It's never going to stop hurting." I paused, dumbfounded. She wasn't supposed to say that. She was supposed to console me, tell me everything was going to be okay, tell me that these things happen and I'm making a big deal over nothing. She wasn't supposed to tell me the truth. Evidently, I had paused longer than I realized. She took this as a sign to keep talking:

"It won't always hurt like this, but you're never going to forget. It doesn't matter how many kids you and Melissa have, or how many Christmases or birthdays you celebrate as a family. There isn't anything that's going to replace the baby you lost. Don't let anyone make you feel dumb for it; it’s just the way you’re going to feel. It won't always hurt this bad, but it will always be there." I didn't ask her how she knew. I didn't have to. “Let me know if you need anything.” Still at a loss for words, I thanked her and walked back to my desk.

And I felt a little better.

At that point, it was about 15 minutes away from quitting time when I finally told Jackie I was heading home ‘early.’ She told me to drive safe and to let her know if I was coming in tomorrow. “I’ll be here,” I said, not entirely sure I would survive the drive home. The roads were slick with rain by the time I started my treacherous drive. You'd think I'd have been on guard due to the poor weather, but given the circumstances, I couldn't bring myself to care. I tried to bask in the silence of the drive as I had done in the morning, but this time I wasn’t alone. The cacophony of my friend's voices blared in my mind like the sirens of an ambulance.

IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything IfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanythingIfyouneedanything
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed
Whatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneedwhatdoyouneed

Then in the distance, a different voice; a voice I didn't recognize. It was faint, and sounded scared, quiet. I tried to listen, but I couldn't hear anything over the shouting of the other voices. I focused, not on making the unfamiliar voice louder, but on shutting out everyone else. One by one, the voices my friends, the voices of dissent, and the voice of the husk became silent. As they did, I realized the unfamiliar voice was mine own. My voice may have been quiet and scared, but the message I was trying to communicate to myself was undeniable.

"You need to feel this."

My arm instinctively reached for the power button on my radio. Once again, I heard Chester's slight but powerful voice:

“I'm dancing with my demons, I'm hanging off the edge...”

Almost immediately, I felt sharp daggers pierce my heart and the fog in my head begin to clear. I was suddenly very aware of the coldness of my skin and the darkness of the road. With each passing song, a little more of me slipped away; I would occasionally glance in the rearview mirror to see if there was any semblance of myself remaining. Then, the needle drop I had been dreading since I pushed play:



It didn't sneak up on me. I knew it was coming. But that information did nothing to dull the hurt. And as I listened to the simple melody play on the haunted highway, there she was. Everybody told me that they thought we were having a boy, but I knew my daughter when I saw her. She couldn't have been more than 3, her chubby, round cheeks framed by dark, curly locks. Her eyes, a sea of blue-green like her mother's.

"I'm sorry," I said between sobs. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you." She giggled.

"I know Daddy," she responded, and just as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone forever.

I screamed into the desert, louder and longer than I have ever screamed in my life. I felt my vocal chords rattle and snap under the strain, and the metallic taste of blood coated the back of my throat. My lungs were desperate for air and my sight began to go dark, but still, I screamed, and for a single moment, I thought about letting go of the wheel; let the desert finally have its way with me. I didn't want to die. I just wanted a pain to focus on that wasn't this. This was too much.

“Sssshhhhh,” said the husk. “I’ll take it from here.” The numbness started at my fingertips and traveled through my veins as my grip tightened on the steering wheel. I felt my lungs fill with the chilly desert air and the weight of the world slowly lift off of my shoulders. I felt the walls erect in my mind, closing me off from the pain and the torment. It wasn’t until several months later that I understood that the husk wasn’t just protecting me from the bad. “And don’t worry. We’ll keep this between us. Melissa doesn’t have to know.”

Somehow, I made it home. I was greeted at the door by Rory. She seemed excited to help me forget my pain. Or maybe she was just excited because my arrival typically signals that she would soon receive human food. I'm weak.

Melissa lay on the couch, doubled over. She turned her head to meet my gaze as Parks and Recreation played on the TV. Once more, I stared into the sea of blue-green that were her heartbroken eyes. "How was work?" she asked.

"You know," I responded, "pretty shitty. How was your day?"

"You know," she said, "about the same." A silence fell between us. Each of us knew there was nothing left to say, but somehow we knew that we would be okay. Eventually.

We just wish someone could tell us when.

And that's the story of how we, Melissa and James, were almost parents.


No comments:

Post a Comment