Time

Irrational

Grab the bottle of liquor off the coffee table. It is lighter than you realize, which puzzles you because the clear plastic half gallon was only opened a few hours ago. Then the light bulb goes off; you’re partially intoxicated and that’s okay. The irrational thought begins again. It only ever does when alcohol enters the bloodstream and that, my friend, is becoming a more common occurrence. Your new daily routine is as follows: Go to work, come home, tear up in the shower, drink and maybe eat. It might be time to act on your irrational thought. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

Darkness has set in and an impending storm is slowly navigating into town. Your mind continues to race as more liquor travels down your throat. The TV is on but muted; it’s the only thing lighting up the room. You keep eying the car keys hanging on the wall near the front door. The irrational thought becomes more and more rational. Grab a plastic bag from under the sink. Once the liquor label is peeled off the plastic, put the jug in the bag. What’s the worst that could happen?

You grab your raincoat just in case, even though the thought of rain hitting your skin sounds soothing. Keys are now in one hand and the plastic bag in the other. Leave the TV on, that’s your nightlight. You’ll be back…eventually. Lock the door on the way out. It’s the 21st century. No one can be trusted. As you walk, take in deep breaths and maintain composure. With each step, the irrational thought becomes even more rational than it was five minutes ago. Your vision is okay, not the worst, yet not the best. You’re about to act on your irrational thought. That makes you smile. The first one in a while. What’s the worst that could happen?

Navigating at night was always something you were good at, so this 10-minute drive is nothing. This route has been engraved into your brain. Right out of the driveway, follow the main street through multiple stop lights, then a left after 3 miles next to that local restaurant. As you near the destination, you continue to look at the rearview mirror. No police officers so far, but you can’t be too cautious. Take a sip out of the plastic bag. It tastes better than usual. The final right turn is coming up. You straighten, face gets warm, the left eyebrow begins to twitch. It always does when the anxiety kicks in. Take another sip out of the bag, it’ll calm the nerves. The turn is less than 100 feet away, make sure you put your turn signal on. Can’t get pulled over now. Your irrational thought is now turned fully into a rational one. Pull over on the same side of the house, just past the driveway. Put the vehicle in park. Grab the plastic bag. What’s the worst that could happen?

The wind is now blowing heavily. Thunder is echoing in the background. After putting the raincoat on and with bag in hand, you lock the car from the driver’s side. No need to wake up the neighbors with an audible honk. The house still looks the same. You hadn’t seen it in some time. Not since that afternoon months back. A gust of wind knocks some leaves off the surrounding trees as you walk up the driveway. Just like you remember. Now you’re standing at the front door. Jiggle the doorknob. Silence on the other side. You’re looking for something that’s not there anymore. Take a swig of liquor. The irrational thought is now right in front of you. What’s the worst that could happen?

The door is old. With some force behind your right shoulder, it budges without cracking the doorframe. Pretty pathetic. You’re not that strong. Hadn’t been for a while. Darkness stares you in the face. No lights, no candles, not even flashing light from a TV. You step inside and pull your smartphone out. The flashlight app is about to come in handy. Shutting the door behind you, stare at the empty space. The house smells the same, now just warmer than before. Dust has collected throughout the flooring. You begin to bend down to start to clean it up, then stop. An old habit that wasn’t lost. There’s suddenly a lump in your throat. Grab the plastic liquor bottle and take two heavy chugs. What’s the worst that could happen?

The lump goes away. You walk to the back of the house. It’s not very big. Look out the back window; it’s still the same. Weeds have overtaken the sitting area. No more mini pool. Take a swig of liquor. The bottle is now in your left hand, plastic bag on the floor behind you. Now you’re drunk. Rainfall begins bouncing off the roof. You better pick up that bag or you’ll get scolded. Turn around and look at the room you just left. Emptiness. Just like the way you last saw it. Your phone buzzes and your heart skips a beat. Could it be? After all this time, could it finally be? If it is, you shouldn’t answer it, but you want to. If it is, you decide, you’ll answer it. What’s the worst that can happen?

You can see through the front window shade that lightning is dancing around the house. Good thing the electricity is off. Head into the bedroom, it’s just off the main room. Dust is on the floor here too. Don’t clean it up. It doesn’t matter anymore. Stand in the doorway for a minute. You’re looking at an empty room, but the memories flood back. Soon the room is full of life. Full of laughter. Full of love. Then full of anger. No, no bad thoughts. Only happy ones. You have to remind yourself as you punch your thigh. Shaking the bad out of your head, you walk to the window that’s slightly taller than you. Sit below it. Nothing is making noise. Not like before. Turn off the flashlight app. This makes you check to see if its’ what you’re hoping for. Your hand shakes. Partially from the booze. Partially from anxiety. Take a sip of alcohol. Sitting below the window, you finally check the notification. Your heart sinks. The lump forms in your throat again. Not what you wanted to see. Tears begin to form. Just let them out this time. Don’t hold back. You’re not in the shower. You’re alone. The house is empty. Start crying. Cry like you did the last time you were here. Let the snot run down your chin onto your jacket. Pull your knees to your chest. Let it all go. What’s the worst that could happen?

It feels good to cry like this. Drunk crying makes this whole ordeal feel a little bit better. As you continue to rock back and forth, you’ll start saying “I’m sorry.” Repeat it. Over and over again. Tell the room how wrong you were. No one else will hear it. Only the memories. Call yourself stupid while you’re at it. Because, well, you are. A fucking moron actually, but stupid works for now. Suddenly you’ll be interrupted. There’s a knock at the door and it slowly swings open. You look up from the floor and see flashing lights from the living room window. What’s the worst that could happen?

The two officers shine their flashlights into the empty room. Their guns will be drawn. You triggered a silent alarm. It wasn’t their when you left, but guess what, it’s there now.

One officer will yell: “Police, anyone here?”

You have to reply, “Yeah.”

That’s all you can muster up. Tears still run down your face as the beams of light move gradually to you. What’s the worst that could happen?

They stand in the doorway and look at you. They see the tears and the jug of liquor.

“Is that your vehicle outside?” one officer will ask you.

Just nod. He’ll then ask how much you have been drinking tonight.

Just respond and say “A lot.”

Tears will form in your eyes again. The other officer will soon join him and they both look at you. They’ll see the pain on your face and in your eyes.

After a moment of silence, say “I. Fucked. Up.”

You’ll hyperventilate between each word. You can’t help it at this point. One then goes back to the front door. He’s going to radio in that the threat (you) has been neutralized. The first officer walks closer and sits down.

“We gotta take you in.”

You will nod in compliance. Silence begins again, as the thunder and rain drown out the crying. “Is there anyone you want to call?”

You look up at the man. You grab your phone and click a side button to light it up. You point at the lock screen photo. What’s the worst that could happen.

I Made It

Wake up before your alarm. That always happens when you have to get up early. Work is an after-thought. Today is the day. The day you’ve been dreading, but also a day of celebration. Walk to the bathroom. Turn on the light. Look at yourself. Eyes are puffy and have dark circles under them. You didn’t sleep. You tossed. You turned. You stared at the ceiling fan, watching it rotate and create a cool breeze. You thought. Anything that didn’t involve sleep, you did. Time to get ready. Put your uniform on. Brush your teeth. Fix up your hair. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

The day is going to go by slow. The work day is 10 hours, with a lunch break in between. Text all day. Try not to seem so distracted. Coworkers will ask what’s wrong. Answer with a ‘just slept like shit’. Make sure to chuckle. That’ll make it less serious. Continue to text as your shift ends. You become anxious. Itch your neck even though it’s not irritated. Shake your right leg when you sit. Your left eyebrow will twitch on and off. Let it happen. No use of stopping it now. Check your watch. Time to clock out. Send another text. Punch out of work. The timeclock glitches and you have to do it again. This pisses you off. You're going to be late. You can’t be late; time is running out.

Headed over now.

Send the text and wave goodbye to your coworkers. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

Wonder when the next time you’ll take this route again. It’s a quick one. The house is 5 minutes away from work. It made it so convenient before. Those days are over. Take the right to get into the neighborhood. More stop signs this way. More time to think. More time to understand what was about to happen. You stop at the final stop sign before the street. 300 feet, a speedbump, then that left. The left you took a million times when driving through the neighborhood. Put your car in park. Lock the door. Close your eyes. Is this what you really want? You could change it. Just speak up. Speak your mind. You had plenty of chances before. All of this could be different. You couldn’t do it before, but now is the chance. Open your eyes. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Eyebrow starts to twitch. Shift your car into drive. Creep along that last 300 feet. Take that left. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

You see the van in front of the house. Now it’s really real. More real than you expected.

I’m outside.

…….

Okay, come on in.

Park the car in the driveway, as close to the van as possible. Grab a piece of gum from your cup holder. This’ll help mask the pain. Get out and close the door. It’s as humid as it was this morning, even with the cloud layer and the breeze. Drag your hand across the side of the van as you walk slowly to the front door. The back of the van is open. You look inside. You’re impressed. Gently nod at it, chew a little harder on that gum and knock on the door. You hear the familiar commotion. That makes you smile. The door begins to open. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

Emptiness. That’s what you see. It wasn’t like this a couple days, even weeks ago. A pit begins to form in your stomach. Chew harder damn it. Don’t get emotional now. You created all this. But you can change it in one sentence. One little sentence. It’ll make all the difference. Be honest. Say how you feel. As commotion continues, just stand in the doorway. Stare. The pit is growing bigger. Stare some more. Chew harder. A conversation begins in the bedroom, but you’re drowning it out. You become shocked. Interlock your hands and play with your fingers. You can feel the tears form. Chew harder. A familiar face is now at your feet, making noise. Look down. Smile. A tear will run down your cheek. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

The other familiar face comes over too. It rubs against your leg. Another tear runs down. Your smile is there, but so is the quiver. The conversation ends in the bedroom and the bathroom door opens and quickly closes. Look up. Say what you need to say. It’ll change this whole situation. Just do it. Don’t be a little bitch. Just say it. You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Just tears. Bend down and rub your hand around them. Cry. Chewing harder isn’t going to do anything anymore. Say goodbye. As the two walk away, look up and try and smile. Stand back up. Take the two steps. The most familiar face is staring at you. Go in and hug. Squeeze a little. Let the emotions show. That’s what you do best. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

Soon the embrace is over and your back in the doorway. Look at the three faces. They look back at you. Rub your eyes. Slowly nod. Open the door and begin to walk out. Look behind you. One face looks lost. One face looks concerned. One face looks disappointed.

“I love you.”

Shut the door and walk to the car. Kick the stick that’s on the driveway. Put your hands on top of your head. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

You’re laying down in bed again. It’s dark. Grab your phone.

Goodbye.

Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

Hours pass. The sun comes up and then goes away. Your phone vibrates.

I made it.

Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

Chasin’

Time to drive. Drive for a while. You’re going somewhere you’ve never been before. A place where you need to be. Well, you think you need to be. The early morning air is stale. Double check your front door to make sure it’s locked. You’ll be gone for at least two days. Three if everything goes according to plan. This was a last-minute decision. You could say an irrational thought of sorts and you know how that ended last time. That memory travels through your brain as you walk to your car. Get in and turn on the GPS. Type in the destination. It’s a long drive ahead, but worth it. Be prepared for anything.

Get onto the highway. Not a lot of traffic this time of day. You see occasional high beams from third shift workers going home. Fidget with the radio. You’re trying to find something to distract you from this drive and what is at the end. Turn the radio off. Take a sip of coffee. You’ll need that energy. As you continue on, look at the stars. The sun won’t rise for another two hours. They bring a sense of peace and understanding. No one knows where you’re going. You keep it that way. Hearing how stupid of a trip this is isn’t going to help you or your mindset. Take another sip of coffee. Be prepared for anything.

You’re out of the state now. The sun is rising. Put your sunglasses on. You can’t get into an accident. Too much is at stake. Well, that’s what you think. Traffic has picked up heavily. They don’t understand how important this drive is. Stay in the middle two lanes. Let the assholes speed past you. You have to be in one piece. Take a sip of coffee. Now you’re out and need more. The caffeine helps you relax. You don’t understand how or why, but it just does. Get off at the next exit. It’s the last one for 30 miles. You need this gas station coffee. Be prepared for anything.

You pull up to a gas pump. Be smart and top off now while you have the chance. Don’t want to waste more time later. Get out and begin to pump. Someone pulls up next to you and soon is doing the same thing.

“Where you headed?”

Respond with, “A place I’ve been chasin’ for a while.” Make sure to smile as you say it.

“Oh, well good luck to ya.”

The handle jolts and the gas stops pumping. Nod at the guy and walk into the building. Pee and get another coffee. Make sure it’s the largest cup they have. This’ll be the last one of the trip. Can’t get too carried away. Buy a water too. That’ll help. Hop in the car and get back on the highway. Almost half way there. Be prepared for anything.

It begins to get overcast. The radio is still off. You continue to run all the scenarios in your head. One good outcome; way too many bad ones to count. You’re excellent at creating the bad outcomes. Most of them are written in the journal in your bag. The rest you came up with while driving. You cross over another state line. Getting closer. Take a sip of coffee. Rain begins to hit your windshield. Think that it is a sign that this shit isn’t going to work. Punch yourself in the thigh and shake your head. You gotta stop thinking like that. You know it’s hard and that’s why the journal exists. Take the last big gulp of caffeine. It flows through your veins. No more. The rain is now steady and somewhat soothing. Your mind begins to relax. Now just focus on driving. Be prepared for anything.

Now you’re on the home stretch. Sun is out again. You feel happy and sad at the same time. The sun, you think, is a sign that this’ll work out. The irrational idea is okay. But, again, remember the last time you acted on that irrational thought. Now you’re sad. Shake it out of you. Stop being such a mental midget. Have some confidence. Hear your mom say: Everything happens for a reason. Now shape up.” This sort of helps. But, it also doesn’t. She doesn’t really get it. You do. That’s all that matters. Be prepared for anything.

Take the final turn into the parking area. You’re here. Park the car far enough away. Sun is beaming through a cloud layer. Mixed emotions. Either it’s about to work out or you’re fucked. Sip on the water. Get out of the car. Stretch, it was a long day of driving. Look at the building. The sudden feeling of nausea kicks in. Step in front of your car. Throw up. Do it a couple times. Good going idiot, now your breath is nasty. Good thing you have gum. Pop a piece in your mouth and chew. After 5 minutes of staring and chewing, spit the gum out. Have to look professional. Now head for the front door. Leave the bag in the car. Be prepared for anything.

You’re inside the building now. Look at the directional arrows hanging from the wall. Glance for the one you’re looking for. Straight ahead it seems. Take deep breaths. Now you see the gold numbers on the apartment. Stand in front of it. Pull your hat brim down. Knock. Wait. Now you hear the deadbolt unlock and the door begin to open. Be prepared for anything.

All About Perspective

I just sat down when there was a knock on the door.

“Great. To think I was getting comfortable,” I said aloud.

I put my wine down on the table and stood up. It was evening time and getting dark earlier than I liked. I loved the idea of crisp weather, but not what felt like endless darkness. For some reason my apartment door didn’t have a peep hole, so I had to gradually open the door until the security chain stopped it. I unlocked the deadbolt and slowly opened it. Guard was up because you never know anymore.

I looked through the crack and stared. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I spoke.

“Can I come in? I have something to say.”

No hi or acknowledgement, which I thought was rude. How can one just expect me to let them into my place? Then again, I knew how long the drive was so I unlatched the chain, fully opened it, and stepped to the side. I still couldn’t believe what I was looking at.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I said again sitting back down on the couch and grabbing my wine.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

I knew what was coming next. He took his hat off and began twisting it. I knew what was coming next. I wasn’t prepared for this or expecting it. As he spoke, his eyes began to fill up with tears. Also knew that was coming. It always did. So did the pain on his face. My stomach began to churn.

“I, uh, I need to tell you that I was wrong. Everything I did was wrong. I’ve said this before and I know my word doesn’t mean shit, but I want you and only you.”

I just stared at him. There was more coming.

“I want you. I want all this in my life. Leaving you that day was the worst decision I’ve ever made. Letting you come here without me was wrong.”

“We’ve gone through this before,” I said, letting out a sigh. I didn’t know what to think. We hadn’t talk in a long time. Deep down I knew he still missed me, but I didn’t think he’d drive this far to tell me.

“I know.” Tears ran down his face. He was trying to breathe and not show so much emotion, but failing. I kept my guard up, but was beginning to feel bad. Butterflies began to build inside my stomach.

“I’ve used up so many chances and know it’s inappropriate to ask for a clean slate, but that’s the only phrase I can think of,” he said now pacing back and forth.

I sipped on my wine again.

“What makes you think this time would be different?” He stopped and stared for a minute. I asked this before. I believed him before. And now we were here again. Deep down I still kept ahold of what we had, but I couldn’t show it or tell him. He was about to speak when my phone rang. It was on the table face up. He saw who it was. I quickly grabbed it, silenced it, and flipped it over.

He began twisting his hat again.

“Do you like him?” he asked after a minute.

“What?” I responded, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Do. You. Like. Him?”

Silence came over the apartment. Clouds had taken over the setting sun and it was slowly getting darker. I didn’t want to answer him. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” I sipped my wine. That’s a lie, I took a gulp.

He put his hat back on and walked toward me. I didn’t know what he was doing so I half put my arms in front of me in case I had to defend myself. It was stupid to think that, I knew he wouldn’t touch or hurt me.

He stuck out his hand. I looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I wanted to tear up, but didn’t. I stuck my hand out and we shook hands.

“I’m sorry I did this. Sorry for all of it. You won’t hear from me again for a while.”

I was speechless.

We stopped shaking hands and he began back to the door. He looked all around the apartment. I knew what he was thinking. This could have been ours, not just mine. His hands clenched into fists and he punched the side of his legs. I sat still, really not knowing what to do. He opened the door and turned to me again.

“I love you and always will.” He waved, turned around and walked out, closing the door behind him.

“I love you too.”

Got Away

I still didn’t understand what just all happened. The man I used to love and still did in a way that was too hard to describe just said goodbye. Half of me wanted him to fight for us. The other half was glad it was over. Or was I really glad? I looked at my phone after polishing off my wine. Had a missed call and three unread texts. Those could wait. This couldn’t. I got up from the couch, grabbed my jacket off the kitchen chair, slid on a pair of sandals and ran out the door.

I could see his figure just leaving the building as I jogged down the hallway. I got to the front doors and saw him getting into his car.

“Wait!” I said.

He turned around and saw me running toward him. He shut the door and waited.

“Let’s go over to the bench and talk.” I grabbed his sleeve and soon we were sitting on the bench placed to the side of the building. It was now almost completely dark and the wind blew leaves across the parking lot. Light posts scattered around the property gradually flicked on.

We sat down and faced each other. He still was sniffling and wiping away tears.

“Look it, I began, you know I still love you and deep down want us to work out, but you’ve ran away from us twice.”

He didn’t say anything, but just nodded in agreement.

“And I want to trust you and take all the things you say and believe that they’re true, but that’s hard.”

Again, just a nod and a wipe away of tears.

My stomach started to churn again and knots built all the way up to my throat. I hated seeing the pain in his face. His hands shook and so did his leg.

“I get it,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you did the same thing to me.”

I grabbed his hand and couldn’t hold back the tears.

“I want to be with you so bad. You’re my soulmate,” he said, squeezing my hand.

I looked at him. Another tear ran down my cheek.

“You have to let me go. You have to let me let you go.”

He squeezed my hand more and I squeezed back.

“I know,” he said, full out crying again.

We hugged each other, hard. Then he stood up. I looked at him, but stayed sitting. He shook his head and cried some more.

He walked to his car, looking back at me with every other step he took. Got into the driver’s side, drove past the bench, rolled down his window and smiled then drove away.

I walked back inside, hiding the fact I had cried some from the front service man and locked the apartment door behind me. I sat down and picked up my phone.

I saw the notifications from earlier and then the one new one. I opened it and it took me to an app. It had a message; For the one who got away, but never left my heart.

Attached was a gift. I started to cry.

____________

Breaking News: “A serious crash occurred on Interstate 5, moments ago. A car headed south bound collided head on with a sedan traveling on the wrong side of the highway. Alcohol seems to have played a factor. Both drivers were transported to the local hospital, condition is unknown at this time. More details to be provided as they become available.

Where Are We?

The last thing you remember is driving on the highway. Headed home. You were sad. Really sad actually. You had just looked at the GPS and saw it was a long way home. All of a sudden you then saw headlights. Headlights coming straight for you. You honked your horn and began swerving, but it was too late. BANG. That’s the last thing you remembered. Nothing less, nothing more. Just those headlights. Where are we?

Now you’re in a coma. But you don’t realize it and maybe never will. Depends if you ever wake up. But for now, you’re just stuck in your own head. Free to think about whatever you want. No one will know. A common theme. No one knows you drove all that way just to get someone back into your life. No one knows you were driving back with a broken heart and regret. No one knows you’re in the hospital. Well, the cops, paramedics, nurses, and doctors know. No family members. Not the familiar faces. Where are we?

Still in a coma, but now you’re having a dream. You’re lying in a field wearing your hospital gown. Somehow your brain registers that’s what you’re wearing, along with the cuts, bruises, and a broken left foot. You open your eyes and see the sky. It’s pure light blue with a thin scatter of clouds. Sitting up slowly, you’ll see a walking boot on your left foot. Your head is pounding. This is from the concussion. Pick up your left hand. There’s a gash on your palm and you see no wrist watch. They cut it off before operating. You do the same with your right and see cuts and bruises on that arm too. Touch your face next. Feel the right eye and all the puffy skin around it. Looks like you just got done fighting a heavy weight boxer. Where are we?

Look forward now. The tall grass is moving with the blowing wind. The sun is shining down on one spot. A figure is standing underneath it. You can’t tell who or what it is. Stand up. Slowly. Don’t be an idiot. You were in a car crash. Your body hurts. A cane is lying next to your feet, bend over and pick it up. This’ll help you conquer the journey that lies ahead. Keep most of the pressure on your right foot and begin limping toward the sun and figure. The grass continues to dance around you as you cut through it. As it grazes your skin, you become itchy. That’s not the main focus. Getting closer makes your heart beat faster. But soon you have to stop and rest. Sit on the rock to your left. Sun is still shining. Then you hear a sound. A sound that’s oddly familiar. Where are we?

You’re sitting now and scratch your head. You hadn’t realized it before, but you have a bandage wrapped around your skull. That was from the operation. They had to stop the bleeding before it was too late. Or maybe it was already. You won’t know yet. You hear the sound again. Look around. Then you see them. Two familiar faces. Right there. Right there for you to touch. They are excited to see you. What the fuck is going on? You reach for them, but they dart off. They head toward the figure in the sunlight. You stand up. Say aloud: “Is it you?” Strat limping as fast as possible. Where are we?

The sunlight is now fading some. You’re still chugging along. The figure is getting closer. Then comes another noise. A voice. It’s echoing through the field and grass.

“Hurry here.”

Now you’re really moving. Heart is beating out of your chest. The figure is right there. Long dark hair is the first thing you notice. Then those hazel eyes and perfect smile. The other two familiar faces sitting next to the figure. They look excited. 35 yards sperate you from them. Where are we?

Suddenly the sun goes away and dark, ominous clouds move in. The wind picks up drastically. 20 yards to go. You’re breathing heavily and start seeing double. Your head feels weird. BOOM. A clap of thunder echoes through the field. Your legs begin to shake. 15 yards. Suddenly you’re on the ground. Face first into the dirt and grass. You have no strength to get back up. It begins to get dark. You pick up your head and quickly rub the dirt from your eyes. 12 yards away. The three familiar faces are right there. They all look so excited to see you. Another clap of thunder. Wind is blowing the grass every which way. They rustle. You hear the voice.

“Hurry here.”

The three begin to fade. You reach for them, desperately trying to hold the figure’s hand and pet the other two. They fade some more. Start crawling. Another clap of thunder. The three fade away. Now you’re alone. Put your head back down. Lay in the dirt. The tall grass surrounds you. Close your eyes. Where are we?

What If

I happen to see the news of the accident when I was picking a tv show to listen to while getting ready for work. I called my boss from the car to tell her I wasn’t going to make it. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I just saw him. Just spoke to him. Just said goodbye to him. Now I’m driving 30 minutes to see him in a hospital bed.

I was bobbing and weaving traffic lanes like a stunt driver. I gripped the steering wheel hard. My phone was buzzing constantly. I ignored it. I had to make sure to get there. I didn’t know the condition of him, but I tried to think positively. Thankfully the traffic was light so I was making good time. I knew what we had was over and it was time to move forward, which I was doing, but I still couldn’t think about the times we had. How caring he was and how he wore his emotions on his sleeve. That was both good and bad. At one point I thought he was it. That he was the one I’d spend my life with. It was right person, wrong time. He fought so many demons and it got in the way of what we were trying to do and trying to be.

I saw the hospital exit and soon was on the side street speeding to get to the ER. I pulled into the parking lot and raced into the hospital.

“I’m here to see…”

The receptionist knew who I was talking about before I could finish.

“Room 108. And just be prepared he may not look like you’re used to.

Her eyes were kind and remorseful. A knot formed in my stomach. I thanked her and swiftly went through the double doors and headed to the room. It was at the end of the hallway, which seemed to be taking forever to get to. I still couldn’t believe this. The ‘what ifs’ started running through my head. What if I let him back in? What if we worked things out? What if I let him stay? I was suddenly jolted back to reality when I heard a buzzing noise take over the hallway. Soon a doctor and two nurses came racing from the other end. and into a room. I stopped and realized it was his room. I began running. The knot grew bigger with each step. Suddenly the buzzing stopped and one nurse walked out of the room. She had her arms crossed and was looking down. She saw me and didn’t say anything.

I was at the doorway and could see the other nurse and doctor around him. They turned around and saw me. I didn’t say who I was. It was like they knew who I was. No one from his family was here yet. They both walked to me and the doctor placed his large hand on my shoulder. He shook his head. I stared at the doctor and then back at him.

I broke down. I let it all out. I didn’t care who saw. I walked to him and stared at his lifeless body. He had a cast on his left foot, cuts up and down his arms, a black eye, and a bandage wrapped around his head. The receptionist was right. This isn’t how I wanted to see him. I wiped away some tears and grabbed his hand, half hoping he would squeeze back. It was warm and oddly enough comforting.

I stared at his face. I squeezed his hand. I cried some more. Then my phone began to ring. I looked at it and saw who it was. I looked at him again. Squeezed his hand again. I began reciting the message from the gift he had sent me hours earlier in my head. For the one who got away, but never left my heart. My phone buzzed again.

I finally let go of his hand

“Goodbye,” I whispered and turned around.

My phone went off and I picked it up, the what ifs still running through my head. He was gone and part of me was too.